Mary @marry1293 - Tumblr Blog

Chapter 2: Someone New

AU: Ace x R

Synopsis: You are a busy editor currently working on publishing the next novel of the novice author Deuce. At the presentation of his book, you catch the eye of his best friend Ace, a songwriter. Can something happen between a womaniser who believes he doesn’t deserve love, and a self-absorbed woman with trust issues?

Age: late twenties/early thirties.

Characters: Ace, Nami, Luffy, Marco, Thatch, Usopp

Read under your own discretion: mention of alcohol, soft drugs, flirting.

So, here's the second chapter of the story I'm writing. For this chapter, listen to Hozier.

Hope you enjoy it.

Ace woke up in a softly lit room. Looking around, he noticed you were cuddled on the other side of the bed, still asleep. He traced with his eyes your naked back and the curve of your waist disappearing under the sheets, grinning at the sight of you. He lay there for some minutes, absorbing the warmth of having you next to him, imagining what it would be like to wake up every day next to you, have you near him, for him to quench his desire –but the idea died quickly. Fantasising about seeing you again after what was plainly a one-night stand was foolish. He got dressed as quietly as he could, trying not to wake you up, and went out, leaving the door partly open, afraid that the noise of it closing might disturb you.

He stopped to check your place for a second since he hadn’t paid much attention to it last night. You were overwhelming his senses with the expectation of getting you to bed, not caring about your place as much as your body hiding under that alluring white dress. But now he noticed the huge bookshelf that covered half a wall, from floor to ceiling. Some of the highest levels were empty, but apart from that, the rows of books covered everything. He went to have a closer look. He had expected you to have lots of novels, something like Deuce’s books, but he was wrong. Half of your bookshelf was children’s books, graphic novels, and comics. Some of them he recognised, most he didn’t. He took pride in the fact that he always had a book at hand, like he wasn’t the most avid reader, but he was definitely above average. But you put to shame his small bookshelf.

He smiled to himself, thinking how perfectly the collection suited you. It was striking at first glance — beautiful, even mesmerising — but the longer you looked, the more tangled and unexpected it became. The genres didn't seem to match, books clashed like colours in a chaotic collage, each pulling your attention in a different direction. It was captivating as a whole, but nearly impossible to make sense of piece by piece. He couldn’t quite figure out what kind of girl you were — and judging by your shelf, nor what type of reader. He made his way to the entrance, not without a last glance towards the bedroom, somehow wishing to see you one last time. He sighed and walked out of the apartment.

On his way out, Ace caught the faint whiff of cigar smoke curling through the lobby air. The guard was at his desk, feet propped up, the cigar trapped between his teeth. For a man who couldn’t have been more than mid-forties, his white hair was striking.

“You’ll need to sign out, young man,” the guard said, his voice even, almost bored.

Ace nodded, stepping forward and scrawling his name onto the visitor log.

The guard glanced down at the entry, then back at Ace with a calm look that lingered just a second too long.

“You came in with Miss (Y/N) yesterday, right?”

Ace shifted slightly. “Yeah,” he said, trying for casual. “She’s a friend.”

The guard let out a faint hum, something between acknowledgment and amusement. “Mm,” he said, puffing the cigar once. “She’s got a lot of friends.” He didn’t press, but the way his lips tugged at the corner made Ace feel like he’d just been measured and sorted.

Ace gave a small, uncertain smile, not sure what to make of the comment. Was this man making him do the walk of shame?

The guard just looked at him, unreadable as stone. Then, a nod. “Have a good one. See you soon.” He went back to his cigar like the conversation had never happened.

Ace gave the guard a last glance, not wanting to think much about the odd conversation they just had. He stepped out into the street, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He went to the bus stop. The bus should arrive soon, so he took out his phone and checked his messages while he waited. He had a couple of messages from Deuce from last night. ‘Dude, please, please tell me you didn’t go home with (Y/N),’ read the first text. The second one was about 30 minutes later, ‘Answer me! DON’T you dare sleep with my editor!’ The last was an hour later. ‘I’ll kill you if you mess around with her.’

Ace smiled and texted back, ‘Sorry. I didn’t see your text on time. Oops, my bad.’

Almost as soon as Ace pressed send, the three dots that marked that Deuce was typing appeared. “Ah! Why? Of all the people you could have chosen to sleep with, you decided to pick up my editor! I work with her! Dammit Ace!”

“She was cute, couldn’t help it,” Ace texted back, teasing his friend.

“Please tell me at least you weren’t your usual asshole and kicked her out of your place as you do with every other girl,” replied Deuce.

Ace typed back, “Hey! I’m not an asshole and… actually… I’m leaving her place. I’m on my way home.”

“That’s a first. Did she kick you out?”

“No. I just left…”

“Mmmm… did you make her any promises, got her phone, made yourself incredibly charming just to later ghost her?”

Ace started to type, and the more he thought of his attitude from last night, the more he became aware that it had been the other way around. You had been incredibly charming, you had invited him to your place, and you hadn’t even bothered giving him your number, much less asking for his. He thought he was leaving to avoid any further compromise, but… what if you were not interested?

“Man, chill. We didn’t even exchange numbers. It was just a one-night stand.”

“For your own good, I hope she thinks the same. Because if she stops checking my work just to avoid an awkward situation, I’ll fucking kill you.”

The bus arrived at that moment, and Ace didn’t bother to answer back, not that there was anything he could do right now to calm his friend’s anxiety. On his way home, Ace pondered the idea that maybe you were not as interested as he had thought. Did he imagine it? He had felt such a strong pull towards you that he hadn’t stopped to consider whether it hadn’t been mutual. But that was absurd, it had been too intense not to be. If it hadn’t been mutual, you wouldn’t have invited him to your place, right? You wouldn’t have smiled like that, touched him like that, let him touch you like he did.

Ace’s thoughts went back to last night, the mere memory of you shot a thrill through his spine, and an involuntary smile appeared on his face. It had been mutual, that chemistry, that spark… it couldn't be faked. Ace stared at Deuce’s last message and knew that he wouldn’t give him your number. Not in a million years. If Deuce didn’t give him your number, there was no way for him to contact you. He sighed. ‘I should have asked for your number.’

…

The ringing of your phone woke you up. Groggily, you reached for it and answered.

“Rise and shine, darling. We’ve got brunch reservations at noon. Kick the man out of your bed before it gets late,” said Robin on the other side of the phone.

You turned to look around and realised you were by yourself. “I think he already left.”

“Go check the kitchen. Maybe he is like that sweet boy, Drake, who made you breakfast,” mocked Robin.

Grudgingly, you answer. “I doubt it. That was one time. I completely misread him. He was more of a gentleman than I thought.”

“Anyway, check you don’t have a man roaming around your apartment and text me when you are on your way. See you later,” Robin said, hanging up.

You lay in bed, listening for noise or any sign of someone else being at your place, but it was completely silent. You kicked your sheets, went to the kitchen, and, just to be sure, called the guard.

“Hey, Smoker-san… Did my guest leave?”

Even through the phone, you could sense his mocking tone. “Yes. He left an hour ago.”

“Thank you,” you replied, ignoring the tone.

“Is he going to be a regular?” he asked matter-of-factly.

“What!?” You were partly shocked and partly embarrassed by his question.

“Just wanted to know if I have to kick him out the next time he appears asking for you or not,” he added, as if asking for the weather.

In the past, Smoker had had to kick a couple of dudes who had been a little too intense for you to handle alone. The guard had become a silent friend watching over you and your shenanigans. You had the impression that he found your messy love life amusing. “No, thank you. I highly doubt he’ll come back. But thanks for asking,” you said sarcastically.

“OK. No kicking him when he comes back. Noted,” he said and hung up.

You rolled your eyes. He was definitely making fun of you. You went back to your room to get ready. Some part of you was happy that Ace had gone before you had to kick him out, but another was a little disappointed he hadn’t asked for your number. Truth be told, you’d had an amazing night. It had been a while since you’d felt such attraction, but it was better this way. You knew that if you saw him again, it would be hard not to try to keep him around. Maybe it could work for a while, but it would only be a matter of time before something went wrong. You didn’t want a relationship, and something tells you he wasn’t looking for one either. The way you both carry yourself made it plain to the sight. With that last thought, you decided to put him out of your mind and forget him. Just another stranger in bed.

As always, you were late —just ten minutes, but late all the same. Robin was already seated at one of your favourite brunch spots, casually scrolling through her phone.

“I take it no man made you breakfast, since you’re here,” she said with a smirk, not looking up.

You chuckled as you slid into the seat across from her. “Nope. He left while I was asleep.”

The waitress appeared with menus and a polite smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Black tea, please,” you said.

“Coffee. Espresso,” Robin added.

Once the waitress walked off, Robin picked up right where she’d left off.

“So… are you going to see him again?”

You shrugged, glancing at the menu without really reading it. “Doubt it. He didn’t ask for my number.”

“That didn’t stop Drake from showing up again,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes. “God, are you ever going to let me live down poor Drake?”

“He was a keeper.”

“He was needy.”

Robin scoffed. “You just say that because he wanted to spend time with you. Unlike the last, what… two or three disposable flings?”

You laughed, but there was a sharpness to it. “I’m busy running a publishing house, Robin. I don’t have time to deal with their needs. And I’m upfront about that. If they don’t mind not being a priority, great. Law managed just fine.”

Robin sighed, toying with her coffee. “Forget Law. That man was starting to catch feelings, and honestly? That was the healthiest breakup you’ve had in a while. You weren’t interested, and he wasn’t exactly a picture of emotional stability.”

You pouted. “Still. It was fun.”

“It was also messy. You need to stop playing with people who don’t know they’re playing.” Her tone was light, but there was weight behind it.

You gave a bitter little laugh. “Oh, come on. They know. They all know, they are all the same. And maybe you need a reminder of how well serious and committed worked out for me.”

Robin’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt.

You leaned back, eyes on the ceiling for a second. “This way? It’s clean. No hurtful breakups, no disappointments. I get what I want, and they know the deal. No numbers, no promises. With Law, I spelt it out from the start.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes people hear what they want.”

“Then that’s on them, not me.”

Robin hesitated, then said quietly, “I just don’t want you to shut everyone out because of one asshole.”

“It was not one asshole, and you know it.” The silence stretched a beat too long before you said, “I’m not shutting anyone out. I’m just… choosing better exits. I’m fine by myself. I don’t feel like having a relationship now.”

Robin shook her head in defeat. “Fine, if it works for you, go ahead.”

You both looked at the menu, deciding what to order. “Are you going for something sweet or savoury?” asked Robin.

You thought for a second. “I think savoury… you?”

Robin eyed you a little suspiciously. “Are you going to ask me to share something sweet afterwards?”

You grinned childishly, “Yes, I am!”

Robin laughed and made a hand gesture to the waitress to let her know you were ready to order.

…

Two weeks passed without you thinking about Ace. As busy as you were, it was hard to focus on anything else that was not work-related. You were having lunch with Nami and Usopp in the small rooftop garden of the coworking space —a quiet little escape from the usual buzz downstairs. You rarely ate in the cafeteria; whenever the weather allowed, you preferred the sun on your face and a bit of fresh air to break up the day.

“So… any plans for this Saturday?” asked Nami, smiling.

You knew her well enough to know she had already planned something. “Guess I’m about to. What do you have in mind?” you asked.

She grinned. “I’ve heard from this bar called the Phoenix. It’s supposed to have live music every Saturday.”

Usopp looked at her unimpressed. “So does The Red Force.”

“Yes, but this is kind of like an open mic thing. Producers go there to listen to different people sing. So it’s interesting because it’s not like proper bands who play like in The Red Force, it’s more like an underground vibe with unknown artists who audition. My friend Vivi says it’s cool. She wants to go this Saturday. Would you like to come?”

You nodded while munching on your homemade chicken burrito.

“Oh, I see. I’ll have to check with Kaya. I think she already had plans,” said Usopp, uncertain.

“Bring her, it’s been a while since we last saw her,” prompted Nami.

“I’ll ask her and I’ll let you know.”

“Great!” said Nami excitedly, “I’ll send you the location later. We can meet there around 9:30? I’ve heard that the good artists start playing around 11. Better to arrive early to get a table.”

You nodded again. “Cool. Is it too far away?” you asked.

Nami shook her head. “I would say it’s some 30 minutes away from your place.”

“Great. Sounds like a plan,” you said.

A ding from your phone made you wince.

Usopp grumbled, seeing your expression. “Do we have to get back to work?”

You opened the email and skimmed it. “Nah, we can finish eating without hurrying. A couple of manuscripts came in,” you said with a heavy tone. “Man, I really hope these are more promising than the last one. I need to find something soon, or else the releases for next year will be shitty as fuck.”

Nami looked a little gloomy. “Have you checked on the ones I sent you?”

“Yes, they are quite good. But we need to buy the license and hire a translator to bring material from other countries. I talked to Bege about it, but the licenses are not cheap. I would like to have at least one more good manuscript to publish, and not to put all our money in foreign bestsellers. I still want to keep the essence of having fresh releases, new stuff. I have to decide by next week how many books we are going to publish next year so Bege can run the numbers,” you sighed, “anyway, that’ll be a problem for future us.”

“Would you like me to read one of the manuscripts?” Nami offered.

You frowned a little at her and asked. “Don’t you have a lot of work with the marketing campaign for the upcoming releases?”

She shrugged. “I have a little time. I have to wait for him to finish the designs,” she said, slapping Usopp playfully on the back. He glared at Nami while she just smiled back at him.

You laughed a little. “Thanks, Nami. I’ll have a look at them and send you one. Just give it a quick read to get the feeling, see if you see it marketable,” you smiled, relieved. You all were swamped with work.

The week passed, and Saturday arrived. You had slept until noon since you spent your Friday reading the manuscripts. You thought you had found a new promising author. Nami had also liked the story, so with one less problem on your mind, you slept like a baby. You didn’t have plans until the night, so you went about your day taking care of some chores. You rarely had time to deal with your apartment, so one of the few luxuries you allowed yourself was hiring a cleaning service. Nevertheless, the cleaning service didn’t do the laundry, nor the groceries, nor cook for the week.

Once you were done with the groceries and the kitchen, you spent the afternoon folding clothes while watching a series, something you tended to do when you needed to turn off your brain for a while. You were so invested in the series that by the time you finished folding your clothes, it was 7 pm. You grabbed your phone and saw that Nami had already texted you the location of the bar. You sent her an emoji letting her know you got the message, and decided it was time to start getting ready if you wanted to be on time without rushing. You enjoyed a long, hot shower and pampered yourself. You blow-dried your hair and went to your closet to look for an outfit. Knowing Nami, she was probably going to wear something revealing. She loved short skirts, but you found them so uncomfortable. You tried on several outfits till you finally decided on some baggy jeans and a lacey crop-top; comfy, but still not too casual for a bar. You’ll add some nice jewellery, and that should give it the final touches.

By the time you finished dressing up, it was almost nine. It was a little early, so you texted Nami to see how she was doing. She was also ready, so you decided to go to the bar and be early for once in your life.

Nami and you both arrived at the same time. She looked stunning in a short dress and platforms.

“Hey!” you waved at her, “should we go in or should we wait for the others? Who else is coming?” you asked.

Nami scrolled on her phone and said. “Vivi is on her way, she’ll be here in some 15 minutes, and Usopp and Kaya said they might join later. I also invited my friend Luffy, although I don’t know when he is coming.”

“Cool, so let’s go in and try to look for a table,” you said.

Nami nodded. We followed the narrow staircase down, the walls getting rougher, brick showing through patches of old paint. At the bottom, it opened up into this dim space that looked like someone had turned a wine cellar into a bar.

“Whoa,” you said, glancing around. “This is kinda amazing.”

The arches overhead made the whole place feel like an underground cave. Warm lights hung from the ceiling in tangled strings, and there was this soft buzz of people talking, laughing, clinking glasses. The bar stretched along one wall in an L-shape, and at the far end, a tiny stage sat under a red curtain. Someone was already up there with a guitar, strumming quietly.

We weaved through mismatched chairs and worn-out couches until we found an open table near the back.

“This okay?” Nami asked, dropping her purse on a faded armchair.

“Perfect,” you said, sinking into a seat. “I like it, if the beer is good, we could come more often.”

“Definitely,” Nami agreed.

“Should I get us something to drink, or should we wait for your friend?” you asked.

“If you want to go get some beers, it’s fine. Order a third one for her. I’ll guard the table.”

“OK,” you said, standing up and heading to the bar. Moving through the crowd, you eyed the bartender, a red-headed guy with a cool tattoo on his arm that looked kind of steampunk.

“Hello, sweetheart, what can I get you?” he said when you approached the bar.

“What would you have me drink?” you said, flashing him with a flirty smile.

He grinned, “What’s your poison?”

“Give me three beers. If you want me to come back, better be one of your best,” you chuckled softly.

He smirked and poured three mugs. “Here you have. I guarantee you will be coming back for more.”

All of a sudden, a pink-haired woman smacked him on the head. “Stop flirting, Kid, and get to work.”

He glared at her and shouted. “Fuck you Bunny,” he then turned his attention to you. “It’ll be twelve bucks, sweetheart.”

You paid and grabbed the beers, not before saying. “I’ll see you around.”

Going over to your table, you noticed Nami’s friend had arrived.

“(Y/N), Vivi, Vivi, (Y/N),” she introduced you when you sat down.

“Nice meeting you. Here, have a beer,” you said, handing out the mugs.

“Oh, thank you! Nice meeting you, too,” she said with a sweet smile.

“Luffy just texted me, he said he will arrive around ten,” said Nami.

“Cool. Meanwhile, cheers,” you said, raising your beer. The other two girls clinked their mugs and drank. “So, you used to work with Nami, right?” you asked Vivi.

“Yes, although I know her from college. We studied together, actually,” Vivi said. “We shared some classes, but it wasn’t till work that we began hanging out more often.”

“As I’ve said, nothing bonds people together like hate,” Nami added, looking at Vivi. “And truth be told, I should hate you, because you were the one to offer me the job,” she joked.

Vivi stuck her tongue at her, “I needed someone with brains who could do the job. I was tired of doing all the work by myself.”

You laughed a little at them and added. “Yeah, no doubt. Nami is the brains of the team.”

“Oh, you don’t need to flatter me. I already like you as a boss,” she playfully said.

You all laughed. You continued chatting, and soon enough, a guy with a chill free vibe approached the table.

“Luffy!” squeaked Nami and jumped to hug him. Vivi also stood up to greet him with a hug.

“Hey! Nami, Vivi, good seeing you!” he said with a huge boyish smile.

Once again, Nami made the presentation.

“Hey! Nice meeting you,” he greeted while taking up a chair across you, with his back to the stage.

Nami excitedly grabbed Luffy’s hand and said. “Guess what, Luffy! The other day, we met your brother, Ace. It turns out we are editing one of his friends’ books!”

You almost choked on your beer. You had completely forgotten about that. Nami didn’t know you had gone home with Ace, but you didn’t know how much he shares about his life with his little brother.

“Really? When did you meet him?” asked Luffy, innocently.

You masked your relief with another big sip of beer. Good, for a second there, you thought this would turn out to be an awkward situation.

“A couple of weeks ago, at the book presentation of his friend, Deuce,” answered Nami happily.

“Cool. I knew Deuce was writing some novels, but since I’m not a big reader, I don't know much about his work, hehe,” he laughed casually.

They continued chatting, exchanging different work-related jokes. At some point, Usopp and his girlfriend Kaya joined.

“Hey! So nice to see you,” you greeted them both. “I was going for a beer, would you want me to bring you something?” you offered.

“Yeah, sure. Beer is fine, thanks,” said Usopp.

You went straight back to Kid and ordered more beers, not without winking at him when he handed you the mugs.

“Here you have, guys,” handing Usopp and Kaya each a mug.

The chit chat continued and by the next round of beers you went to get Vivi asked you. “How do you do it?”

A little bit clueless, you said. “Do what?”

“Get drinks so quickly. Last time I went, it took me ages to get a single beer. There are so many people at the bar,” Vivi explained.

You let out a hearty laugh. “Easy. You flirt with the barman. His name is Kid, if you want to try it. I guarantee you, by the end of the night, he’ll be offering free beers.”

Vivi looked at you in disbelief. “I don’t think I could.”

“Next round, you come with me. It’s easy,” you said, winking at her.

By eleven, a man with a blond mullet appeared on stage and said. “Thank you, everyone, for being here tonight. I hoped you’d enjoy our section of cover artists, and I hope they enjoyed their time in the spotlight. Now, let me introduce you to our next artist, she is a rising star with an angel's voice. Please welcome Conis.”

There was a small round of applause, and a small, fair girl went on stage. She started playing a soft melody on a harp. She was good, although not quite your cup of tea. You listened to her first song and gave her polite applause when she finished, going back to your conversation, speaking a little bit softer so as not to be disrespectful. She played three more songs, and then she thanked everyone. After her went two more artists, all presented by the same guy with a blonde mullet. In general, all were good. Nice and interesting new voices. Now you understoond what Nami said about it being a place for artists to play.

“I think we can make this our Saturday bar, Nami,” you said, while giving the last artist a big applause.

“See, I told you it was a cool place,” she said, grinning.

Once more, the host went up on stage and presented the next artist. “This next artist is a dear friend of mine. If you are a regular, you might have seen him in this scenario before. But don’t worry, he always has new songs to play. Please welcome, Ace!”

At the sound of his name, your heart skipped a beat. When you saw him walking on stage with a guitar, you wanted to die. He looked fucking handsome, just wearing some jeans, a tight black t-shirt and a red necklace. Like some chill rockstar who knew he didn’t need anything more than his looks to pull this off.

Nami turned to Luffy and said. “I didn’t know your brother was playing tonight.”

“Neither did I,” he answered, twisting so he could see him better.

Ace grabbed the microphone and said to the mullet guy. “Thanks, Marco, for that lovely intro. Man, I’m just going to say, you owe me again.”

Marco just laughed and left the stage. Ace sat down in the high chair and adjusted the mic. He played a couple of chords to make sure his guitar was tuned and said, “This first song is called Too Sweet. Hope you like it.”

He started playing something upbeat, smooth and catchy. You weren’t really listening at first—just watching him. That stupidly familiar face under the dim lights, guitar resting on his lap. The second he started to sing, you knew you were in trouble.

His voice had that kind of effortless charm—warm, a little raspy but smooth at the same time. It wasn’t just good; it was magnetic. The sound wrapped around the room, soft but confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing to everyone listening. To you.

You felt it hit, your heart sinking a little in your chest. If you’d found him attractive two weeks ago, now you were practically unravelling.

He moved into the first chorus, and you glanced around. The whole bar was locked in. Heads turned, eyes fixed. People weren’t just listening; they were feeling it. He was good. Too good. And now, somehow, he was more than just a guy—you were watching him turn into your next mistake.

When he finished the song, the room erupted into applause. It wasn’t polite clapping—it was loud and genuine. Luffy’s was the loudest by far, yelling as he slapped his hands together.

The noise caught Ace’s attention. He turned toward the table, brows raised in confusion until he spotted Luffy waving. For a split second, he looked pleasantly surprised. He waved back, his expression softening with that easy warmth he had. Then his gaze drifted around the table, checking out the rest of the group.

And then his eyes landed on you. Everything stilled. Just for a beat.

There was a little shock on his face, like his brain needed a second to catch up. He hadn’t imagined you’d ever cross paths again, let alone end up here, at this exact table, watching him.

Then, slowly, that familiar grin crept across his face. That same mischievousness from two weeks ago lit up his eyes. It was like he was daring you to pretend it hadn’t happened.

You didn’t. You let the corners of your lips lift, just enough for him to know you’d seen him. He gave the smallest nod, something just for you, then turned back to the mic.

"Alright,” he said, voice a little brighter now. “This next song is called Take Me to Church.”

This time, he started singing with a little more seductiveness, if that was even possible. At first, you thought you were just imagining him singing to you, but then, on the pre-chorus, he looked at you, smiling.

My church offers no absolutions

She tells me: Worship in the bedroom

The only heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

You stared at him in joyful disbelief. He was flirting right there on stage, in front of everyone — and only you knew it. There was a delicious tension in those brief glances, like a secret shared in plain sight. Something mischievous passed between you, unspoken but undeniable.

The song ended to a wave of thunderous applause. He waited for the noise to settle, casually raking a hand through his hair, that half-smile still lingering on his lips.

“This next one,” he said, half-joking, half-confessing, “I wrote while thinking of a girl who played me.” A few chuckles stirred the crowd. “It’s new, doesn’t even have a title yet. So… here it goes.”

He looked at you again. Not a glance this time — something slower, more deliberate. And then he played.

Don’t take this the wrong wayYou knew who I was with every step that I ran to youOnly blue or black daysElecting strange perfections in any stranger I choose

Would things be easierIf there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way

And so I fall in love just a little, oh, a little bit

Every day with someone new

You listened, heart catching on every lyric. Was it about you, or about him? A confession, or a warning? His voice curled around the words like a touch, coaxing you into the song. When the last chord faded, the room roared — but you barely heard it. The moment lingered. He hadn’t hidden his intent. Neither had you. ‘Alright,’ you thought, letting a slow smile pull at your lips. ‘If you want to play... let’s play.’

…

After leaving your place, Ace told himself not to think too much about it. Just a one-night thing — no strings, no complications. But the truth was he found himself craving for more of you, your skin, your lips, your kiss…

For the next two weeks, he kept busy, sticking to his usual rhythm. Long days in the studio, working with a new band trying to cut their first singles. He gave them his focus, his advice, his best producer face.

“Alright, let’s run that bridge again,” Ace said through the talkback mic, leaning over the console. “You’re rushing the tempo right before the drop, let it breathe.”

The drummer groaned playfully. “Man, you’re ruthless.”

“You’ll thank me when it hits like it’s supposed to,” Ace shot back with a grin. “Trust me, this track has legs. Don’t trip it before it walks.”

He ran the sessions like that — sharp, encouraging, always chasing that perfect take. But when the others cleared out, Ace stayed behind. Most nights, he lit up a joint, cracked open his notebook, and filled pages with lyrics that might never see the light.

It was a way to clear his head. Music had always been his scape. But before he knew it, there you were — in the margins, between verses, threading yourself through metaphors. When he looked down at what he’d written, he realised the song was half about you, half about him.

Ace laughed under his breath, shaking his head. Karma, maybe. His friends had always joked that one day he’d meet a girl who’d flip the game on him — turn the charm back in his face and leave him spinning. Maybe that was you. Hell, maybe he deserved it.

He told himself the song helped. That writing you out of his system was the fix. And maybe it was, a little. He didn’t really know you—not beyond that night—but the version of you he’d built in his head was already dangerous enough.

There was something about you, the way you didn’t fall for his lines, the way you played right back — not naive, not cold, just... real. Like you saw through him without trying. And that was the problem.

He knew his own patterns too well. Whatever this was, it couldn’t go anywhere. Not just because Deuce would lose his shit if he found out — though that was part of it — but because deep down, he didn’t believe anything good could come from two people like you and him. Two players. Two people who didn’t do feelings.

He didn’t know your track record, but he knew his. And if he had to bet on who was going to mess things up, he’d bet on him.

It was Saturday night. Ace sat cross-legged on the studio floor, guitar across his lap, plucking out the last few chords of the song you inspired. The air was still, heavy with cigarette smoke and reverb. Just as he scribbled a final lyric in the corner of his notebook, his phone buzzed.

“Hey man, what’s up? Are you busy? said his friend Thatch.

“Not really,” Ace replied, fiddling with the cords of his guitar, “just finishing some songs at the studio.”

“Marco texted, wants to know if we’re down to hit the bar.”

“Sure, I’ll wrap up and meet you there.”

“Cool. See you then,” said Thatch and hung up.

Ace sighed and set the guitar aside. His body ached from hours in the studio, and the song — your song — had left his brain felt wrung out, too many hours on the same song, too many thoughts circling the same face. Going out for a drink sounded like just what he needed. He put away the instruments, turned off the console and closed the studio.

He decided to walk to the bar, since it wasn’t that far. It was a warm night, and he needed to stretch his legs. When he arrived, the bar was already crowded with people. He didn’t want to stand in line, so he went round to the back door. He knocked, and Marco opened.

“Yo! How are you, Ace?” greeted his friend. He was the owner of the bar, The Phoenix. He and his friends love to spend time there, and particularly for Ace, it helped a lot with his business.

“Good, and you?” greeted Ace, clasping Marco’s hand and going in.

“Working,” he chuckled, “I’m about to close the list of today’s artists.”

“Anyone interesting?” asked Ace, while both men made their way through to the back of the bar where Marco had his little office.

“A couple of artists, you’ll see. You might find your next…” Marco was interrupted by a call, “Have to take it, give me a second,” said, apologising to his friend.

It wasn’t a long call, but Ace could see on Marco’s face that it wasn’t good news. When he hung up, Ace asked, “Everything alright?”

Marco cursed under his breath. “One of the artists just cancelled. I have a 15 minute space in between acts.”

Ace just nodded looking at his friend. There was a moment of silence where they looked at each other, knowing what would come next. Marco opened his mouth, but before anything could come out of him, Ace cut him off.

“No. I have nothing prepared to fill your 15 minutes. I had a hellish week, so no. Forget it.”

Marco kept on looking at him with pleading eyes. “Even if you only fill in for 10 minutes would help me.”

“No,” repeated Ace, “Man, I didn’t even bring my guitar,” he complained.

“I’ll get you one, don’t worry about that. Please? And I’ll pitch you beers for the whole night, anything you want,” begged Marco.

Ace grunted and finally agreed, “Fine. At what time do I have to go on stage?”

“In about an hour, I’ll leave you last,” said Marco, relieved.

“Fine. Go get me a guitar and a beer,” said Ace, dropping onto the couch.

Marco nodded and ran out of his office. Some minutes later, he came back with an electric acoustic guitar, a mug of beer, and his friend Thatch.

“Will this do?” asked Marco, handing Ace the guitar.

Ace nodded, grabbing the guitar. “Hey Thatch, you heard the news?”

“Yes, you are in to break some naive girl’s heart tonight,” said Thatch, mocking his friend and sipping on his beer.

Ace just rolled his eyes and took a sip as well. Not that it was something he did unpurpose, but every time he played, girls went looking for him. He obviously took advantage of that every time he could, but it had come as a recurring joke among his friends that he only played on stage when he wanted to get laid.

Truth be told, he rarely likes playing his songs on stage. There was a reason why he recorded in private, in the peaceful space of his studio. He loved making music, but being a rock star was not something he felt comfortable with.

He took out his phone and looked through the songs he had ready. “Thatch, can you hold the phone, please? I need to see the score.”

Thatch grabbed Ace’s phone and held it so he could read it. Ace began tuning the borrowed guitar and getting the hang of it. He practised the first song a couple of times.

“That was so good,” said Thatch.

“Thanks, man,” answered Ace, grabbing his phone and swiping so he could see the score of the next song. He practised for some 45 minutes when Marco came in.

“You are ready? You are next once this dude finishes.”

Ace shrugged and said. “As ready as I can be on short notice.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You’re the best,” said Marco reassuringly.

Thatch and Ace followed Marco out of his office. Thatch went to the bar to sit and watch the show, while Marco guided Ace to the stage.

They stood backstage, waiting for the guy playing to wrap up. As the performer exited, they gave him a polite nod in passing.

“This next artist is a dear friend of mine,” Marco said into the mic. “If you're a regular, you’ve probably seen him up here before. But don’t worry, he always brings something new. Please welcome Ace!”

Ace exhaled and rolled his shoulders back, slipping into the familiar armour of charm. He walked onstage, guitar in hand, and flashed Marco a grin.

“Thanks for that touching intro,” he said. “You owe me… again.”

The crowd chuckled. Marco laughed and exited, giving Ace the stage.

He plugged in his guitar, adjusted the mic stand just a little too precisely, stalling. The bar was packed. He scanned the room like he always did, hunting for familiar faces to anchor him. Thatch was at the bar, giving him a thumbs-up. Solid ground.

The first song came easily. Once his fingers found the rhythm, the nerves faded. The audience slipped into the background, and he let the music take over. This was always the space where things made sense — melody, chords, rhythm. His songs were his way of translating the parts of him that didn’t fit into casual conversations.

The loud applause caught him off guard, but one voice rose above the rest. He looked out, searching instinctively for the source… and there he was. Luffy, waving excitedly from the back table.

Ace grinned. He hadn’t known Luffy would be here. The sight of his little brother comforted him. He scanned the rest of the table, casual curiosity, until his gaze landed on you.

Time stuttered. You were watching him. Eyes locked. Cool, steady. He hadn’t expected to see you again, let alone here, tucked among friends like it was nothing. Like you weren’t the girl who’d been haunting the corners of his thoughts for the last two weeks.

For a second, Ace forgot where he was. Then, slowly, the grin crept back onto his face. That dangerous, familiar pull lit behind his eyes. He threw you a glance, playful, daring: You gonna pretend none of it happened?

You didn’t. You met his stare with a small smile — barely there, but enough. He nodded, subtly, just for you.

‘Alright,’ Ace thought, fingers moving to the next chord. ‘Let’s see how far this goes.’

He started the second song, but this time, something shifted. Knowing you were there, watching, made his voice dip lower, smoother. He wasn’t just performing anymore. He was provoking you.

He caught the way your eyes tracked him, the slight change in your posture as the lyrics landed. The tension between you stretched taut across the room, quiet and crackling.

And this time, he was setting the rhythm. It felt like a soft kind of payback for that night, for how you’d lured him with nothing but the sway of your hips and a look over your shoulder. How he’d followed — your steps, your rhythm, your pull — all the way back to your place, like he never stood a chance. But tonight? Tonight he wasn’t following. This stage was his. The song, his. The game? His rules. He saw the moment you realized it too — that flicker of surprise in your eyes as his voice dipped lower, more intentional. The way you couldn’t stop watching, listening.

The crowd cheered as the song ended, but he barely noticed. His attention was already shifting to the final one. Your song. The one that had clawed its way out of him night after night.

“This last one,” he said into the mic, with a wry grin, “I wrote while thinking of a girl who played me.” Laughter from the crowd. A few whistles.

He looked at you — not a glance, not a flicker. A full, deliberate look. A challenge. ‘You started this,’ he thought as he lifted the guitar again. ‘Let’s see if you can finish it.’

And then he played. The lyrics spilt out like truths disguised on melodies. Half confessions. Half cover. Some lines were about you. Some were about him. Some blurred the line.

She doesn’t know me. I barely know her. And still… Still.

The applause still echoed as Ace stepped offstage. He exhaled sharply, fingers running through his hair. That last song had come out too intense, filled with intent, filled with anticipation.

He slung the guitar off his shoulder and made his way backstage, passing Marco near the wings. Marco grinned and tossed him a bottle of water.

“Crowd ate it up,” he said. “You’re welcome, by the way. My intro was clearly the secret weapon.”

Ace scoffed, cracking the cap and taking a long drink. “Yeah, thanks for that, host of the year.”

Marco gave him a look. “You nailed it. Especially that last one. Sounded… personal.”

Ace didn’t answer right away. He simply gestured with the neck of his guitar. “Gonna drop this in your office. Wait for me at the bar?”

Marco nodded. “Sure. But hurry up, you’re probably already someone’s groupie fantasy by now.”

Ace chuckled under his breath but said nothing as he headed down the back hallway into Marco’s office. He set the guitar carefully back in its case, then paused, staring at it for a moment longer than necessary. That last song still hummed in his chest like an aftershock. He shook it off and made his way back out.

By the time he reached the bar, Marco and Thatch were already leaning against the counter, drinks in hand. Thatch was talking animatedly.

“There he is!” Thatch called out. “Star of the night.”

Marco smirked and elbowed Ace lightly. “Told you. You’ve got a couple of fans already circling.”

As if on cue, two girls sidled up beside them, all lip gloss and glances.

“You were amazing up there,” one said, touching his arm lightly. “Is it true what they say about musicians?”

Ace smiled, the reflex kicking in like muscle memory. “Depends on which rumours you’ve heard.”

They laughed, and for a moment, he played along. Tossed a few lazy smiles, let the charm flicker. It wasn’t hard. It never was.

Marco chuckled at the scene. It never failed, after every presentation, they appeared summoned by the charm of his friend. Then he squinted toward the far end of the bar, suddenly his expression shifting. Annoyance flickered across his face like a warning light.

“Give me a second,” he muttered, already peeling off toward the other side. “Idiot’s at it again.”

Ace and Thatch watched as Marco strode behind the bar, walking toward one of his bartenders, who was leaning in far too close to someone at the counter.

Ace turned to look and froze. You were there. Leaning casually over the bar, smiling like the world had just offered you a private joke. Your fingers toyed with an empty mug, and your eyes were locked on the man serving you. You tugged your hair behind your ear, flashing the bartender a smile Ace remembered too well.

It pulled something low and sharp from his chest. As if drawn by gravity, Ace took a step forward, barely registering the two girls from earlier who were still hovering nearby, trying to pull his attention back. He ignored them completely.

As he neared, Ace caught just enough of your conversation to feel the heat rise in his blood.

“If you keep coming to me like that,” the bartender said, leaning in too close, “the next round’s on me. Maybe I’ll give you more than drinks tonight.”

Before Ace could close the distance, Marco’s voice cut in, smooth but edged.

“Yo! You keep giving drinks away for free, and I’ll dock every one from your paycheck,” said Marco, giving his employee a cold smile. The bartender stepped back immediately, posture stiffening.

You laughed under your breath, unfazed, and turned to leave — only to stumble slightly as you pivoted, colliding right into Ace.

You weren’t ready for him — he saw it immediately. The small intake of breath, the widening of your eyes. You hadn't expected him to be that close, that fast.

He caught you instinctively, hands settling at your waist to steady you. For a second, neither of you moved.

“Careful,” he said, voice low, smile lazy. “Wouldn’t want you falling for me twice.”

You burst out laughing at the pickup line. “You wish I would, wouldn’t you?” you shot back, tossing him that familiar look—half a glare, half a smirk, the kind of expression that screamed trouble, the kind that had lured him in once already.

Ace didn’t flinch. He grinned, cocky and unbothered.

“I don’t wish on wells,” he said, leaning in just slightly, voice dipping into that sweet spot between teasing and promise. “I like to make my own luck.”

Your smirk faltered for a second — not in retreat, but in surprise — and that was all he needed. He saw it, that flicker of reaction, and it lit him up inside.

He let one hand slide away, the other lingering at your hip as if to say this wasn’t over yet.

“Didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he said.

You arched a brow. “Would you have played differently if you had?”

His smile widened, teeth flashing. “We’ll never know, do we?”

You laughed, and he felt it — the shift, the spark — like striking a match between you.

This time, he wasn’t following your rhythm. This time, he was setting the pace.

Marco eyed Ace from behind the bar, brows subtly raising. He knew his friend well enough to spot when something was different. This wasn’t the usual casual charm Ace threw around like confetti. The way he’d left the two girls hanging at the other end of the bar, the way he moved toward this one — like a magnet — it was telling.

Marco didn’t recognise her, which was surprising. He had a fairly thorough mental log of Ace’s misadventures. Whoever she was, she wasn’t a fling Marco had seen before — and that alone made her worth watching.

He picked up a glass and a rag, polishing idly while listening in.

“So,” you said, smooth as ever, “would you join me for a drink? Come say hi to your brother.”

Ace smiled at the invitation and gave a soft nod, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was already two steps ahead. He turned back toward the bar and immediately caught Marco watching them too closely. Ace shot him a glare.

Marco didn’t flinch. “What can I get you?” he asked innocently, just another bartender on shift.

Ace rolled his eyes. “Idiot. Give me my free bar tab — and hers, too, if you don’t mind.”

Marco chuckled, dragging out the pour like a man enjoying his backstage seat to a drama unfolding. He handed over the drinks with a smirk, but said nothing.

You raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking between them. “Free bar?” you asked, amused.

Ace tilted his beer toward you with a grin. “He’s the owner. My friend. And he’s going to pour me free beers for life.”

Marco opened his mouth, clearly ready to call him out — but then Ace gave him a look. The kind that said: Don’t. Marco closed his mouth and grabbed another glass instead, holding back whatever comment he’d been about to throw.

Ace took the drinks and turned toward your table. “C’mon,” he said, brushing his arm lightly against yours. “Let’s go say hi to Luffy before he starts yelling across the bar again.”

You made your way toward the table, where the chaos of your friend group bubbled in full force. Luffy spotted you first, bouncing up from his seat.

“Hey! That was awesome, Ace!” he said, grabbing his brother in a hug with his usual lack of volume control. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna play? Man, Sabo’s gonna be pissed!”

Ace knew his brothers loved being part of his musical career and more often than not, got pissed at him because they thought he was wasting his talent simply as a producer.

He chuckled, slinging an arm over Luffy’s shoulder briefly. “It was improvised. Marco had someone else booked, but he bailed last minute. I was just passing through... I just helped him out of the pinch.”

Swiftly, you slid into your seat—deliberately choosing to put a little distance between you and Ace. He noticed, of course. He’d learned by now how easily you could switch gears—this effortless glide into the breezy version of yourself you wore around friends. Charming, a little guarded, but always in control. Still, he wasn’t about to let you off the hook so easily this time.

“So,” Ace said casually, eyes scanning the table. “I think I recognize a few of your friends, but I’m not sure I’ve met everyone.”

Luffy pointed them out quickly. “That’s Vivi and Nami—my coworkers from Buggy’s hellhole.” All three grimaced in sync at the ex boss's name. “Then there’s Usopp, Kaya, his girlfriend, and (Y/N)—Nami’s friends. You might’ve met them at Deuce’s book presentation.”

Ace greeted everyone with a grin, dropping an intentionally pointed, “Nice seeing you all again,” before pulling out the chair next to you and sitting down without so much as glancing your way. Smooth. Intentional. You noticed.

Ace asked what brought you to the bar and let the conversation roll naturally. Nami filled the space, chatting about how they'd all ended up here thanks to Vivi’s review and a craving for a solid drink. Ace, ever charming, bantered easily with everyone, sliding in compliments and teasing remarks that made the girls laugh and the guys relax.

You rolled your eyes and took a long sip of your drink, pretending not to notice how often his attention subtly drifted back to you. When he finished his beer, he stood, smiling.

“This was great,” he said. “Lovely meeting you all. But my friends are probably wondering where I vanished.”

Then, subtly, he leaned in close to you, his voice low and smooth, brushing just against your ear. “I’ll be at the bar when you’re ready.”

And just like that, he walked away—no hesitation, no second glance. It was the same trick you’d pulled the first time you met. You stared after him, annoyed... and maybe a little thrilled. You liked that cockiness. Damn him.

Ace made his way back to Marco and Thatch, who were already watching him with raised brows.

“Well?” Marco asked, amused. “Going to tell us who she is?”

Ace grinned, cool and unreadable. “Maybe. For now? Just a fling. An interesting one.”

Thatch exchanged a knowing look with Marco. Ace caught it and waved a hand.

“Don’t get carried away. She’s just a girl.”

“Sure, sure,” Thatch said, taking a slow sip of his beer like he didn’t believe a word of it.

Ace glanced back at your table. You were taking your time, of course. Making him wait. But eventually, you stood, finishing your drink before sauntering over with a look that was pure mischief.

Instead of speaking to him, you turned to Marco. “You’re Marco, right?”

He gave you a curious smile, casting a glance toward Ace. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Ace’s freeloader,” you said smoothly. “Would you mind pouring me another drink? I think Kid over there’s done flirting for the night.”

The men blinked at you. Ace let out a sharp breath of laughter, biting his lower lip with a small shake of his head.

You tilted your head at him, all innocence. “What? You’re not paying for my drinks?”

He smirked, caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief. “Marco,” he said, voice amused. “Put it on my infinite tab.”

Marco chuckled, pouring your drink with a mock salute. “Consider it done.”

You took the glass with a wink. “Thanks. I’m (Y/N), by the way. Nice to meet you both.”

Thatch leaned forward, smiling. “Thatch. So... how do you two know each other?”

Before you could answer, Ace explained. “She’s Deuce’s editor.”

Both men sat up a little straighter. “No way!” Thatch said. “You’re the one publishing his books?”

You nodded, sipping your beer. “That’s me.”

“His debut novel was amazing,” Thatch continued. “I devoured it in two days.”

You smiled, genuinely pleased. “Thanks.” It was nice having your work complimented. “And how do you three know each other?” you asked, returning the question.

“Ah, fate and questionable decisions,” Marco answered. “Thatch and I go way back. And Ace… one day showed up wanting a studio, I had one to sell. I opened the bar with the money. Now our businesses run side by side, and we drink a lot more than we should.”

“Sounds like fate knew what it was doing,” you said, glancing at Ace, letting your words carry more weight.

“Sometimes it does,” Marco agreed.

You turned your attention back to Ace, your voice softer now. “So... how’ve you been?”

“Good,” he replied easily. “Writing songs. Like the one you just heard.”

You blushed, a soft smile on your lips. “You’re really good, you know.”

He ruffled his hair, showing some modesty. “Just a little improv. Marco loves to throw me to the wolves.”

“Well, if that was improv, I’d kill to hear the real thing.”

Ace’s smirk returned. “Maybe.”

You let out a soft laugh, exasperated but charmed. “Modest as ever.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Same old. Life of an editor… paperwork and deadlines. But I love it.”

Ace liked that about you. Even when you groaned about work, it was obvious how much heart you poured into it.

The conversation flowed, casual and easy. Marco eventually excused himself with a muttered comment about checking the ice, and Thatch, not wanting to become a third wheel, quickly followed.

As soon as you were alone, something in you shifted. The relaxed ease disappeared, replaced with something bolder, more deliberate.

“That last song... who was the girl you wrote it for?” you asked, eyes locking with his.

Ace didn’t flinch. “As I said… a girl who played me,” he said, voice low, “straight into her bed.”

He looked at you, gaze heavy with implication. His words didn’t say it, but his eyes did.

You smirked. “Do you regret it?”

He leaned in, hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closer with a deliberate slowness.

“Not in the slightest.”

Heat sparked from his touch. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand slid up his arm, fingers tracing the muscle there. Slowly, you tilted your head and met his gaze.

“So... should we make it a two-time incident?”

Ace’s breath hitched. You’d thrown the gauntlet down—and he loved it. He didn’t answer. He just took your hand, and with that cocky, familiar grin, pulled you from the bar. Whatever game the two of you were playing, it was far from over. It was a dangerous game, but neither of you cared. Not tonight, not yet.

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