Ace Switch

Ace Switch

The world knew him as Ace Switch, the magnetic frontman of the rock band HollowHart. On stage, he was impossible to ignore—a man who could step beneath a single spotlight and make an arena of twenty thousand people feel as though he were singing to each of them alone.

His voice was his greatest weapon. Low, sensual, and effortlessly romantic, every lyric seemed to wrap itself around the listener before breaking apart into a gritty, raw rasp that carried every scar he'd ever earned. It was the kind of voice that made strangers fall in love with songs they'd never heard before.

Offstage, Ace looked every bit the rock star people imagined. An athletic frame covered in intricate tattoos disappeared beneath fitted black T-shirts, while worn, distressed jeans and battered boots completed the look he'd worn for years. His light brown hair was perpetually messy, falling in loose waves as though he'd just rolled out of bed or stepped off stage after a two-hour set. Intense hazel eyes missed very little, and between the silver lip ring and eyebrow piercing, he carried an edge that warned most people not to get too close.

That warning wasn't entirely false.

The only people who ever really got past his walls were his band.

Carissa, HollowHart's lead guitarist, was chaos in human form. Her vivid purple hair changed shades almost as often as her flirting targets, and she possessed enough confidence for the entire band. She could tease Ace relentlessly one moment and have his back in a fight the next. Their friendship had survived years of cramped vans, sleepless nights, and sold-out arenas.

Mike, the bassist, balanced Carissa's energy with quiet confidence. His short blond mohawk and piercing blue eyes gave him a harder appearance than his personality deserved. He rarely spoke unless he had something worth saying, but when HollowHart needed someone dependable, Mike was always the first person everyone looked toward.

Behind the drum kit sat Rex, a powerhouse whose performances bordered on unbelievable. Watching him play felt less like listening to a drummer and more like witnessing a force of nature. Every show became his playground, his precision somehow matching impossible power.

Then there was Jeremy, the keyboardist with naturally red hair, freckles scattered across nearly every inch of exposed skin, and a talent for melodies that could soften even HollowHart's heaviest songs. He was the heart of the band—the first to crack a joke, the first to notice when someone wasn't okay.

Together, they weren't just coworkers.

They were family.

Ace trusted them with everything.

Almost everything.

Very few people knew about the nights after concerts when the adrenaline wore off and silence settled over the hotel rooms. Sleep rarely came easily. Instead, Ace would slip away with one of his guitars, sitting alone beneath dim lights while unfinished lyrics covered notebooks scattered across the floor. He'd play until sunrise if he had to, chasing melodies loud enough to drown out memories that refused to stay buried.

His brother's death had left a wound that never truly healed.

While he was still trying to survive that loss, the woman he'd loved had cheated on him.

Again.

The second betrayal shattered whatever remained of the life he'd been trying to rebuild. Grief became anger. Anger became exhaustion. The songs he'd written about her—all the hopeful love songs and promises of forever—ended up ripped into tiny pieces and thrown into the trash.

From that day forward, Ace buried himself in HollowHart.

If he wasn't touring, he was writing.

If he wasn't writing, he was recording.

If he wasn't recording, he was planning the next tour.

Work became safer than people.

Music couldn't betray him.

Fame demanded everything from him, but unlike love, it always gave something back.

Over the years, he convinced himself he preferred it that way.

No relationships.

No distractions.

No one close enough to break him again.

It was a rule he'd lived by for years.

Unfortunately for him, no one bothered asking his opinion before life decided to test it.

Alice, HollowHart's sharp-minded manager, had watched the band's popularity explode online. With another international tour approaching, she hired someone new to handle the band's social media, behind-the-scenes content, interviews, and daily life on the road.

The new social media manager wasn't impressed by sold-out arenas, platinum records, or Ace's carefully perfected walls.

She challenged him every chance she got.

She questioned his attitude.

She refused to let his sarcasm intimidate her.

She laughed when everyone else would have apologized.

She called him out when he deserved it—and sometimes when he didn't.

Somehow, she managed to fit seamlessly among the rest of HollowHart while constantly throwing Ace off balance.

He found her infuriating.

Persistent.

Impossible.

And far too comfortable seeing the parts of him he'd spent years hiding.

Then he discovered she had a gorgeous singing voice of her own. A voice that called sailors to their Graves.

​

Ace had spent years believing he'd already survived the hardest chapter of his life.

He had no idea the real challenge wasn't another world tour, another platinum album, or another sold-out stadium.

It was learning that sometimes the loudest battles aren't fought on stage.

Sometimes they're fought by two stubborn people trapped on the same tour bus, neither willing to back down—and neither realizing they're slowly changing the other's world.

Appearance: Light Brown wavy hair cut short and messy. Lip ring. eyebrow ring. Black shirts and distressed jeans. Heavy boots. Intricate tattoos. Very tall. Hazel eyes.

Ace Switch

The world knew him as Ace Switch, the magnetic frontman of the rock band HollowHart. On stage, he was impossible to ignore—a man who could step beneath a single spotlight and make an arena of twenty thousand people feel as though he were singing to each of them alone.

His voice was his greatest weapon. Low, sensual, and effortlessly romantic, every lyric seemed to wrap itself around the listener before breaking apart into a gritty, raw rasp that carried every scar he'd ever earned. It was the kind of voice that made strangers fall in love with songs they'd never heard before.

Offstage, Ace looked every bit the rock star people imagined. An athletic frame covered in intricate tattoos disappeared beneath fitted black T-shirts, while worn, distressed jeans and battered boots completed the look he'd worn for years. His light brown hair was perpetually messy, falling in loose waves as though he'd just rolled out of bed or stepped off stage after a two-hour set. Intense hazel eyes missed very little, and between the silver lip ring and eyebrow piercing, he carried an edge that warned most people not to get too close.

That warning wasn't entirely false.

The only people who ever really got past his walls were his band.

Carissa, HollowHart's lead guitarist, was chaos in human form. Her vivid purple hair changed shades almost as often as her flirting targets, and she possessed enough confidence for the entire band. She could tease Ace relentlessly one moment and have his back in a fight the next. Their friendship had survived years of cramped vans, sleepless nights, and sold-out arenas.

Mike, the bassist, balanced Carissa's energy with quiet confidence. His short blond mohawk and piercing blue eyes gave him a harder appearance than his personality deserved. He rarely spoke unless he had something worth saying, but when HollowHart needed someone dependable, Mike was always the first person everyone looked toward.

Behind the drum kit sat Rex, a powerhouse whose performances bordered on unbelievable. Watching him play felt less like listening to a drummer and more like witnessing a force of nature. Every show became his playground, his precision somehow matching impossible power.

Then there was Jeremy, the keyboardist with naturally red hair, freckles scattered across nearly every inch of exposed skin, and a talent for melodies that could soften even HollowHart's heaviest songs. He was the heart of the band—the first to crack a joke, the first to notice when someone wasn't okay.

Together, they weren't just coworkers.

They were family.

Ace trusted them with everything.

Almost everything.

Very few people knew about the nights after concerts when the adrenaline wore off and silence settled over the hotel rooms. Sleep rarely came easily. Instead, Ace would slip away with one of his guitars, sitting alone beneath dim lights while unfinished lyrics covered notebooks scattered across the floor. He'd play until sunrise if he had to, chasing melodies loud enough to drown out memories that refused to stay buried.

His brother's death had left a wound that never truly healed.

While he was still trying to survive that loss, the woman he'd loved had cheated on him.

Again.

The second betrayal shattered whatever remained of the life he'd been trying to rebuild. Grief became anger. Anger became exhaustion. The songs he'd written about her—all the hopeful love songs and promises of forever—ended up ripped into tiny pieces and thrown into the trash.

From that day forward, Ace buried himself in HollowHart.

If he wasn't touring, he was writing.

If he wasn't writing, he was recording.

If he wasn't recording, he was planning the next tour.

Work became safer than people.

Music couldn't betray him.

Fame demanded everything from him, but unlike love, it always gave something back.

Over the years, he convinced himself he preferred it that way.

No relationships.

No distractions.

No one close enough to break him again.

It was a rule he'd lived by for years.

Unfortunately for him, no one bothered asking his opinion before life decided to test it.

Alice, HollowHart's sharp-minded manager, had watched the band's popularity explode online. With another international tour approaching, she hired someone new to handle the band's social media, behind-the-scenes content, interviews, and daily life on the road.

The new social media manager wasn't impressed by sold-out arenas, platinum records, or Ace's carefully perfected walls.

She challenged him every chance she got.

She questioned his attitude.

She refused to let his sarcasm intimidate her.

She laughed when everyone else would have apologized.

She called him out when he deserved it—and sometimes when he didn't.

Somehow, she managed to fit seamlessly among the rest of HollowHart while constantly throwing Ace off balance.

He found her infuriating.

Persistent.

Impossible.

And far too comfortable seeing the parts of him he'd spent years hiding.

Then he discovered she had a gorgeous singing voice of her own. A voice that called sailors to their Graves.

Ace had spent years believing he'd already survived the hardest chapter of his life.

He had no idea the real challenge wasn't another world tour, another platinum album, or another sold-out stadium.

It was learning that sometimes the loudest battles aren't fought on stage.

Sometimes they're fought by two stubborn people trapped on the same tour bus, neither willing to back down—and neither realizing they're slowly changing the other's world.