* ♫ ✩‧₊ PINK LIMOUSINES. — 03.
summary. The lines between you and Jack and Robby are beginning to blur. word count. 15.3k content warnings. fluff, smut (threesome, spitting, unprotected sex because they fuck like rockstars), (slight) infidelity, TMZ and trashy tabloids are used as a plot device here, some slut-shaming, agegap (reader is in her mid 20s, rabbot is in their mid to late 40s) !! notes. this is a long one so brace yourself!
rockstar!au. ┊ popstar!reader. ┊ playlist. ┊ masterlist.
TIKTOK —
The video shakes as though the person filming is rushing to get a better view, peeking through heads of balding men to catch a glimpse. Despite the shoddy footage, there's no mistaking the fuming voice of Jack Abbot. The video pivots away from their attempts of catching you in the throng of paparazzi to Jack, his handsome lined face screwing in anger as he bodily shoves and pushes the other men out of the way. The comments below are a collection of fans angry for your defense and other swooning over Jack's protectiveness.
The internet is buzzing with Jack's latest stint against the paparazzi. While your fans (and a specific subset of your followers that's named themselves JACKSTAR enthusiasts) have taken over swooning of how protective he is, it also launched a new online discourse of how predatory and dangerous the tabloids can be. It brings into light of how privacy is more of a privilege than a right when it comes to celebrities — particularly famous women — and how safety is no longer promised even in public spaces.
One commenter had cried out 'and what if jack wasnt there??? would yall be fine if she was mowed down by all those men???'
#BodyguardJack was trending for a few days, too — something that Robby had a fun time teasing him about during meetings with higher-ups regarding their tour and album. But the trends always comes and goes, something inane always replacing the last with how short the general public's attention span is when it comes to pop culture.
It isn't long until Coachella is a week away and with you as headliner, your fans take over the internet yet again. Outfit ideas and dance challenges to your songs flood the trends alongside theories if you'll be performing your newest single or anything else from your upcoming album. You've traveled out a bit earlier to rehearse with your dancers in the Indio heat, making sure the entire space is planned out accordingly for your entire set.
Jack and Robby head out a few days after you, renting out a massive mansion for the week. While your team had rented out your own place, it's an open secret that you'd be staying with the two men right after the night you perform. Asking Cassie to acquire for you two extra VIP passes with backstage clearance had been an interesting conversation to say the least.
"I already got the VIP packages sent to Trinity and Samira," Cassie says when you nab her right after the final meeting before Coachella. You shake your head, a sheepish smile curling upon your painted lips. When she catches the tell-tale shimmer in your eyes, she braces herself the same way when her son's about to ask her something she might have to say 'no' to. "What is it…?"
"Can you get me two more? With backstage clearance?"
"Two—" Cassie raises a brow and you can see her guessing who it's for. At this point, Jack is an open secret, an unspoken addition to wherever you may go. Robby's a new addition but your manager just nods, merely accepts it and pulls out her phone to send out a few emails. "Consider it done, kid. Now go, I bet you aren't even done packing."
The day before the festival finds you lounging in the wide space layout of the house your team has rented for you and your immediate team (stylists, Cassie, and a couple of personal assistants), trying to keep a relaxed headspace. You're sprawled out on your stomach on the plush couch, facing the floor to ceiling glass walls that overlook the spacious backyard and pool. Even with the AC blasting, you squirm a bit in the warm temperature threatening to seep in.
"We'll be back for more ice," Cassie calls over her shoulder, two PAs in tow as she twirls the keys around a finger. You let out a vague noise of understanding before you continue to scroll, legs kicking casually behind you.
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mona! @enam3l — 3h she has to perform stupid song right??? like why else would she drop it as a single RIGHT before coachella
pearla! @pearlessance — 12h fingers crossed she performs a song on the new album
maria! @mariasont — 1h DID ANYONE SEE THAT ONE ACTOR GUSH ABOUT STAR???
⤷ jackstar enthusiast @.jackscrawler replies: dude you're gonna have to be more specific than that… WHICH ONE ⤷ maria! @.mariasont replies: Nick Barker!!! he's in that new movie that 'stupid song' is featured in
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Your eyes widen at the mention of Nick gushing about you, scrolling deeper in the timeline before the referenced interview finally resurfaces. It's a red carpet interview of Nick's at his movie premiere, The Happy Ending. He's not that much older than you but he's got his big break as a teenager, moving audiences with his range and performance. It's no question that he's Hollywood's current Golden Boy, warm brown eyes and a smile that can stop any heart in its tracks.
While he may not be your type (perhaps younger than the men you're currently going for), you're still heavily flattered as the video plays.
The crowd is enthusiastic, their cheers bleeding through the questions the interviewer had painstakingly prepped beforehand. To Nick's credit, he playfully shushes the crowd before he's leaning his head in to hear the question better.
"Nick, fans have raved about how willing you are to cross boundaries as admirer to admiree, sharing book recommendations and song recommendations like you're 'one of the girlies' as your fanbase would say," the interviewer chuckles with Nick agrees with a bright laugh of his own, nodding in agreement. "How do you feel about Star's fanbase claiming you as their 'mascot' when you had flooded your IG stories playing her music?"
"Oh, I love it," he laughs, leaning up again to full height to showcase his big grin. "We were so stoked that she and her team agreed to write us a song for the movie, she's insanely talented. Not to mention, drop dead gorgeous."
Your cheeks burn hotly, teeth sinking into your lower lip as he feeds your ego. You can't be blamed; you're still a public figure at the end of the day and any publicity (especially good publicity) is welcomed.
The interviewer is pleasantly surprised. "Sounds like you got a crush there, Nick."
Nick starts to step away, politely ushered on by his team, but he throws in one last line before he leaves with a half-smirk. "I think the whole world does."
The video loops and you swipe out of it, a pleased little smile dancing upon your lips. You ride this little ego boost all the way to dinner, sharing a few texts with Jack as he preps to drive out later with Robby.
You're in the midst of cleaning up the chipotle bowls that one of the PAs had bought for the entire team, calling out your good nights as the rest of them disperse. When one of the harried PAs (something Ogilvie?) tries to take over, you wave him away with a little grin.
"I got this, you did a lot already," you smile. He still looks unsure but you continue to clean anyways. It isn't until your phone rings and you answer with a prompt: "Hey, baby—" that Ogilvie gets the hint and makes himself scarce.
You can hear the wind blowing in the background, some faint classic rock bleeding into the call when Jack answers back. "Hey, gorgeous. We're on our way. Not much traffic on the 10, at least."
"That's good. We just had dinner, gonna have an early night in."
Jack hums. "You have morning rehearsals?"
"Yeah, I have one of the longer sets, I wanna be out of the way for the other artists to rehearse when they come in later."
"So considerate," Jack chuckles teasingly but you roll your eyes goodheartedly even if he can't see it. "I'll let you get settled in then. What time will you be getting up? Robby and I can drop by with breakfast."
Your smile is blinding and even in the emptiness of the living space, you attempt to bite it back. It feels so silly like this, giggling over sweet acts of service like you're still in high school. You're grateful no one can see you like this.
"That'd be perfect, baby, thank you."
"It's nothing. Go get some beauty sleep, sweetheart. Good night."
"Good night."
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Although you won't be on stage until 9 PM at the latest, you know that you can't properly prepare by sleeping in. Your work ethic's been praised by many in the industry, constantly pushing yourself to get to the best you can be.
You're up by 8 AM, grateful that there's a small home gym in the airbnb that Cassie had picked out. You burn a bit of cardio, not enough to tire you out but enough to wake you and snap your mindset into a productive work day. Even if this work day culminates to nothing but performing to about one hundred thousand people.
The doorbell rings before the door swings open just as you hop out of the shower, wearing cut off shorts and one of NIGHTCRAWLER's faded merch tees cut up to look like a crop top. It's Joy, the other PA, that opens the door with a blank expression to greet Jack and Robby holding bags of breakfast from the brunch place a few streets away.
"She's inside," Joy says before returning back to her phone. Meanwhile, Ogilvie looks positively starstruck. His fellow PA barely hides her disdain; after months of working with you, he still hasn't seem to shake that he'll also be meeting other celebrities of your caliber.
Jack and Robby share an amused grin as they enter, catching you step down the stairs as you towel dry your hair. "Good morning, princess," Robby greets first with a little grin. Jack sets the food down in the large dining room, passing by his friend to catch you in a hug as you rush to him.
"Morning, sweetheart," Jack hums against your lips when you kiss him without hesitation. Behind you, Ogilvie gapes but Joy sharply nudges him in the ribs. You signed an NDA, dumbass, she mouths to him.
When you get your fill, you turn to Robby and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before your attention turns to the food. "You guys brought so much food," you laugh before waving over the PAs and your style team that just arrived. "Come eat, everyone. NIGHTCRAWLER brought breakfast."
Cassie passes by, already looking a tad stressed but her expression smooths over with a smile and it tells you it's something to do with her shitty ex-husband. She shakes her head at your questioning look, just nudges you to eat with everyone else.
Despite Jack nearby, you keep your hands to yourself as you eat, allowing him to take you in in a more professional capacity. He's seen you outside of work, glimpses of you writing and producing in the filmed documentaries he's seen of your rise to fame. And while you aren't exactly working, seeing this side of you with your team is eye-opening and his heart beats a little faster for it.
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Cassie watches you carefully as you change into something loose and comfortable for rehearsals. The stages are already set up with most audio-visual equipment as well as any other needed hardware or machinery needed for performances. You look 'bummy' as you've often called it between schedules, comforting but not presentable with your undone hair and the oversized glasses sitting on your nose. Soundcheck begins as you run through your setlist for the night, halfheartedly doing the choreo for the more upbeat songs to conserve energy in the heat.
You talk clearly but politely whenever something doesn't happen the way you wish.
"Can we drop the bass a bit for this part?"
"Bring my mic up a little louder, please."
"The space here is too cramped for me and the dancers, can we get a mic stand so I can just belt out the rest?"
Jack and Robby's appearance had been something Cassie was prepping for. While to others and to her pay grade, her responsibilities begin and end with just hustling you over from event to event, interviews and other packed schedules when truly, she's taken more responsibility for you since you had gotten signed. The age gap between you and Cassie isn't large enough to be considered your mother but it is for a protective older sister. While she knows she has no business sticking her nose in who you're dating, she knows it will be if those men start to pull you away from your career.
But as she watches you and Jack (as he also gazes upon you), she wonders exactly why her alarm bells aren't ringing as loudly as it did with Baz. Jack seems to support your career, doesn't hold you back from responsibilities, but Cassie's also starting to wonder where you end and Jack begins in this unnamed relationship.
"Thanks, everyone!"
Your voice concluding the rehearsal snaps her out of her thoughts and she pushes forward, handing you your lemon water. All concerns about Jack is forgotten as she gently nags you on the importance of staying hydrated.
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Despite years of being a singer and performing for crowds, the jitters never really go away. The sun has finally set on Indio and you can taste the anticipation in the air as the final act before you finishes up. The raucous applause for them shifts into a chant for your name and you loosen a shaky breath.
You're dressed in something cute and short, flowing with a linen-like material that gives you the appearance of a fairy or something otherworldly. Jack's seen the fittings, seen you bemoan the different meetings because something keeps snagging during choreos or you can't change out of it quick enough for the next song, but he hasn't seen the final result.
The cheers are getting louder now as you hear the faint pre-recorded videos playing on the giant screens counting down the beginning of your performance. Your name is echoed throughout the dessert now, a pounding drum that matches the beat of your heart. When the platform beneath your feet jolts slightly, you take a deep breath and readjust your in-ears before the platform rises.
Lights are the first thing you see, blindingly bright and merciless in the way your eyes takes a second to adjust before you see the massive crowd packing forward to barricade. You hold up your bejeweled mic and greet the crowd before the music kicks in.
Like always, your body adapts before your mind can. The choreography is something you can perform in your sleep, moving on auto-pilot that it isn't a priority for your mind to focus on. Instead, you let yourself loose and sing your heart out to the crowd, feeding off the building energy as you start your setlist with your most popular singles.
It isn't long until you realize you're almost out of breath, your body begging for a single moment as you coast the adrenaline of performing. Fortunately, you know you've got a short break coming up where you can talk to the crowd.
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LIVESTREAMING STAR'S PERF @.starsbabe — 2m SHE'S PERFORMING OBSESSED HOLYYY SHIT
STAR'S BABY BOY @.babystarsss — 1m SHE LOOKS SO GOOD OMFGGGG
pearla! @.pearlessance — 1m JACK AND ROBBY ARE IN VIP !!!!
mona! @.enam3l — 1m I JUST SAW JACK BOPPING HIS HEAD TO 'MY WAY' OMFG HE LOVES OUR PETTY QUEEN
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The night grows later but the energy doesn't wane for a single moment. Despite the touch-ups between songs, you're glowing beneath the bright lights as you circle the stage to settle behind a piano.
"Thank you for all the love," you speak into the propped up mic, flushed and beaming. The camera zooms into your face while you smile, letting the crowd scream a bit before you continue. "I thought I'd perform my new song for you guys."
The instrumentation kicks in but your piano takes center stage, your sweet voice crooning over the massive wave of cheers and screams. When it gets to the chorus, the crowd in VIP blatantly turns to Jack for his reaction.
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JACKSTAR SUPREMACY @.jackstarsbabe — 1m JACK REACTING TO 'STUPID SONG' ( video attached. )
In the shaky, vertical video, the fan captures Jack and Robby leaning against the barricade in the cordoned off section of VIP, the bright lights glinting against his silver curls. His crows' feet deepens with his smile, head bobbing to the beat as your voice plays in the background: "… You should feel how I feel when somebody says your name, I'm a car speeding down the boulevard without a brake. And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say. I'm a heart made of wax and I'm melting in the sun. I'm a thread on your shirt that is coming undone. I feel right, I feel wrong, I feel totally insane. And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say…"
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The crowd explodes in raucous applause at the end of 'stupid song' but you don't waste a second moving into your next song. Honeybee. The crowd falls into a quiet hush when the slow instrumental begins, entranced by the delicate verses.
Your eyes fall shut and the camera catches the way your lower lip quivers as you sing. "God, I love the way you look at me." The strings follow suit, your backup singers providing quiet support while your voice echoes throughout the desert in heartbreaking longing.
"Shooting stars, racing cars… everything I own feels like ours."
Lights begin to blossom in dainty pinpricks throughout the crowd, fans turning on their camera flashes to wave in sweet unison as you reach the final chorus. You hit each chord, pressing down on the damper pedal to sustain it, as you sing.
"And it's too hard to describe this, in a way that feels honest, but even when I'm quiet, I love you, baby. I promise. And I hope I never see what your face looks like goin'. A face I swear that I could spend my whole life knowing. Here's to hopin'."
The choir takes over now, sending out the final chorus as you back away from the propped mic to focus on playing the rest of the song on the piano. It ends in a quiet flourish and after a beat of silence, the entire crowd erupts in deafening applause.
A shaky laugh escapes you, not expecting the massive reaction. The camera catches the slight shimmer in your eyes, sparkling with unshed tears which you quickly bat your lashes to keep them from falling.
"Wow," you laugh softly, climbing off the piano bench to walk center stage with the mic. You attach it to the mic stand, looking in utter awe of the amassed crowd. "That was Honeybee, one of the songs on the upcoming EP… I thought I could play a little more extra songs for you guys, what do you think?"
The resounding 'YES' from the crowd elicits another surprised giggle from you. With a nod to your band, you start up your next song, a bit more fast-paced. Although you love choreo and the whole spectacle of it all, there's something freeing being able to sing your heart out without a routine to follow. Like a performance in your bedroom with just an audience of one.
"I'm a zombie in my body, I'm a train off of the track. I feel dirty, I feel rotton, and the colors are all flat."
By the second verse, the crowd is trying to sing along, cheering alongside the rest while the lyrics play on the left and right screens flanking the stage.
"I'm a sad shell of a woman, and I've got maggots for brains. But that's just the thing that happens when my baby goes way!"
On the final chorus, the instrumentals fall away except for the electric guitar, your band hitting the power chords as you sing to the crowd.
"What can I do," you sing out with a bright smile, "but think of you? But think of you."
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STAR @ COACHELLA @.starbitches — 3m NEW SONG ALERT NEW SONG ALERT NEW SONG ALERT
JACKSTAR ENTHUSIAST @.babestarry — 10m hold on….. these lyrics…… girl are U OK?!??! IM A SAD SHELL OF A WOMAN??? WHAT DID JACK DO TO YOU???
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"We got time for one more song," you announce to the crowd with a little breathless laugh, stepping away from the mic to bend down for the water set by the speakers. You let the crowd cheer a bit longer, whining for more, while you take a sip. Movement from your periphery steals your attention for a single moment and when you glance over, you see Jack and Robby standing beside Cassie. The smile on Jack's face nearly floors you but there's a shine in Robby's eye you can't quite place.
"I know, I know but I wanna end on a good note so I think… I'll do one last song from the new EP before we have to go." You turn your band, positively beaming. "You guys ready?"
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JACKSTAR ENTHUSIAST @.babestarry — 2m ONE NIGHT I WAS BORED IN BED AND STALKED YOU ON THE INTERNET??? STAR'S JUST LIKE US
STAR @ COACHELLA @.starbitches — 3m IF YOU LET ME STAY THE NIGHT, I MIGHT HAVE TO STAY FOREVERRRRR
STAR'S BABY @.starlubot — 5m THE MOST ALIVE I'VE EVER BEEN, KISS ME AND I MIGHT DROP DEAD
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You end the final song with a massive bow, fans cheering endlessly even after you give a last wave and exit to the side. Cassie greets you first as usual, handing you an ice cold bottle of water which you chug gratefully. Behind her stands Jack who you melt into with a breathless laugh, skin buzzing with the remnants of your adrenaline that always comes after a full set.
"You were fucking beautiful out there," he murmurs in your ear, possessive hands settling nicely against your hips. You giggle and let him pepper kisses along your hairline before he gently pulls away to hand you off to Robby, much to your surprise. "I think he might be a bigger fan than I am, sweetheart. Robby's been singing along beside me."
You laugh, thinking Jack to be teasing but the bashful grin upon the frontman's features surprises you. "Really?"
He shrugs. "I like them," he says simply before he lets out a playful 'oof' when you latch onto him for a sudden hug. He laughs and strokes the back of your head when he hugs back. "Alright, I think we're monopolizing you. Your friends are coming."
Dutifully, Jack and Robby step aside just as Trinity tackles you in a hug that nearly knocks you over. Robby's hand is warm against the base of your spine when he offers support, keeping you from tipping over.
"Holy shit!" Trinity gasps as Samira follows for a far more calmer hug. Nicole, a childhood friend of yours that had flown in from New York last minute, swoops in for a hug as well while Trinity continues her string of positive expletives about your performance. "Those last three songs were insane, by the way. Didn't know you were performing those."
You shrug, both arms linked with Samira on your left and Nicole on your right, as a playful smile dances on your lips. "That's what a surprise is, Trin. Your reaction alone is why I kept that hush-hush!"
Nicole laughs and you rest your head onto her shoulder. Long distance friendships are something you despise but getting to see her is always a little sweeter each time. "Trinity's complaints aside," she hums. "You did amazing and I'm so grateful you flew me out to see you. You know Matt offered—"
"Nicole," you interrupt with an exaggerated, scandalized frown. Meanwhile, your team seamlessly enters the fold of you and your friends to remove your in-ear and mic packs, gently dabbing away your sweat. "I invited you out, I'm not gonna make your fiancé pay for your ticket."
She chuckles and nods, presses a sisterly kiss to your temple. "Thanks anyways, babe. Alright, I'll let you get out of that sweaty costume. Is that party still happening?"
Trinity interjects with a sharp grin. "Of course the after party's still happening." She whirls on her heels, points a finger to Jack and Robby who've kept to themselves while you catch up with your friends. "You two are coming, right?"
Jack meets your gaze but doesn't wait for permission, just gives you a half-smirk. "Oh, we'll be there."
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By the time you've changed out of your performance outfit, face clean of makeup before reapplying a thin layer of skin-tint and an excessive amount of glitter packed on your eyelids, the after-party at the airbnb you've been staying at is in full swing. It's Antoine that takes you to the house this time around, having sent Robby and Jack and your friends ahead to join the festivities.
"There she is!" Someone cheers from the stairs once you enter and you bask in the attention. You giggle and laugh alongside the many guests that filter in and out of the backyard as well, a few people already swimming in the lit-up pool while red solo cups are passed around. One is pressed into your hand and when you take a sip, you gag at the bitter taste of beer.
"Don't do that to yourself," Jack chuckles, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he plucks the cup from your hand. "Come on, Robby's in your kitchen playing bartender. If you're sweet enough, he might make you a drink."
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The view that greets you is something you wish you could've snapped on your phone, immortalizing the moment. Your friends are circled around the island counter, Robby behind the opposite side with a table full of alcohol separating the two. He had pushed the horde of top-shelf liquor bottles aside to make room for himself, the bottle of bombay teetering precariously at the edge. Trinity and Dove are wrapped around each other, arms tangled as they playfully boo at Robby who's attempting some bartender trick he might've seen in a movie while Nicole and Samira occasionally move bottles out of the way with amused laughter.
"There's the guest of honor!" Dove screams excitedly, detangling herself from Trinity's side to tug you into the fold. Everyone looks a touch past tipsy now, where everything has a blur around every movement without getting dizzy and the alcohol doesn't burn going down. Where the touches linger and no one questions it.
When Robby looks at you for a second too long, no one calls him out on it.
Instead, you take the offered shot from Trinity, something radioactive green but terrifyingly sweet going down. You take a few more and soon, you're leaning into Jack's arms to keep from stumbling.
"Let's get some water in you, pretty girl," Jack chuckles but he's got a lazy grin on and something tells you he's only a couple shots behind from where you're at now. You giggle and nod, stepping out of Jack's hold to where you stumble into Robby's. He's firm beneath your hand where you grip his forearm for balance.
The room spins but the party doesn't shift from the kitchen. Instead, Jack manages to wrangle you into one of the bar stools. He stands on your left, Robby on your right, and between both men, they keep you from falling entirely.
"Fuuuck, she's gone. Babe, drink some water," Dove giggles as she slides over another glass of water your way. You try to refuse it but Robby's lifting the glass, bringing it up to your lips. Jack's hand settles at the small of your back, pinning you gently in place so you have no choice but to lift your head up towards Robby, mouth parting obediently.
"Christ," he says under his breath, carefully tipping the glass for you to drink from as your sweet, doe eyes bat your pretty lashes at him. He lowers the glass when your pink-stained lips slowly shut, taking the hint that you've gotten your fill.
"Good girl," Jack hums in your ear and when you break eye contact with Robby to look at him instead, the frontman looses a quiet huff of slight relief. He might do anything to get you to look at him like that again. He takes the glass from Robby to drink the rest, clearing the haze in his head. He'd rather make sure someone is sober enough to watch over you and your friends. But as he takes a cursory glance towards the small group of friends, it looks like Samira and Nicole have taken it upon themselves to make sure Dove and Trinity don't overdo it.
When he looks back down at you, a soft chuckle escapes him; you haven't looked away from him since those two little words. His possessive touch burns when he cradles your jaw, drops his head to kiss your lips in a way that'd be borderline indecent. "Drink more water for me, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips.
You're so obedient like this, so pliant as you turn back to Robby with an expectant smile. "Want me to help you, princess?" Robby asks quietly, bringing a fresh bottle of water to your lips before you can even say yes. You drink up and the cloudiness that blurred the edges of the evening begins to dissipate, the dizziness ebbing away as the chaotic surroundings sharpen into something less foggy.
It doesn't lessen the heat simmering beneath your skin for both men.
The thought itself is sobering and your cheeks burn, your eyes flitting between Robby and Jack before you force your gaze to turn forward to your friends. Fortunately, they all seem preoccupied; Dove and Trinity are lost in their own world (again), Samira and Nicole are discussing possible wedding venues.
Suddenly, a familiar song blares from the music being played outside on the patio where the party had shifted into something of a pool party. It tears your friends out of their own bubbles and soon multiple hands are tugging you away from Robby and Jack.
"It's our song, it's our song—!" Dove shrieks as she tugs your entire group to the makeshift dance floor by the pool. The sobering thought of wanting Jack and Robby is left on the back burner as you let yourself throw your hands up, dancing along with your friends and singing without a care in the world.
But as the party dwindles down and guests start to filter out, your closest friends (along with Jack and Robby) migrate back to the wrecked living room. It almost looks like a movie set after a eager, red solo cups and streamers strewn about, couch cushions used as pillows as all of you stretch out wherever. Dove is tucked between Trinity's legs, her back against the other girl's chest as Trinity leans against the coffee table. Samira and Nicole are sharing a loveseat, your childhood friend's legs tossed along Samira's lap.
Meanwhile, you're sat on Jack's lap on the couch while Robby's got his head on your lap. Everyone's still a little buzzed, talking about nothing and everything in between.
"That's our uber," Nicole hums as she gently pats Samira. "Come on, my lovelies. You guys can stay at my hotel suite."
You huff, kicking a foot out to poke your friend's thigh. "You guys can stay here, this place is huge—"
"No, absolutely not." Nicole chuckles and there's a glimmer in her eyes you can't quite place. Her gaze shifts to both men before shaking her head. "Matt booked me a giant suite here and it'd go to waste if it's just me in there."
It's a flimsy excuse but you can't find it in you to fight her on it. You walk them out anyways, Jack and Robby trailing behind you as you help everyone into the massive UberX. You notice the way Dove and Trinity are holding hands and you will your brain to commit it to memory, something to interrogate your best friend with the next day.
The silence of the house when the three of you return to it is thick with tension that's been brimming since they pinned you between them at that kitchen bar stool. It's spilling over now, heady with electricity that's got nowhere to go. Your fingers twitch by your hips as Robby locks the door behind him, Jack trailing behind you like a shadow. You wait with bated breath when his chest brushes against your back, his stomach settling nicely into the slightest curve of the bottom of your spine.
"You want something, don't you, sweetheart?"
You allow a hum to sound from your lips, acting coy not to tease them but out of self preservation in case what you think is about to happen isn't. It just riles up Robby though, shaking his head as he rubs the back of his neck as you've seen him done before.
Jack refuses to drag this out any longer than it has been and tugs you by your hips, closing any distance between your back and his front as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. His hand drags up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, to gently grip your jaw so you have no room to look at anything but Robby.
The older man is tense in front of you, dark eyes drinking you in the same way he helped hold that glass of water from you earlier except — there isn't anything guarding the delicious sheen of arousal in his gaze. As if Jack's given permission that he had no right to give in the first place.
"Look at him, baby. I've seen the way you look at him…" Jack croons in your ear and the stab of guilt in your gut dissipates with need when your replied whimper earns you a warm chuckle from your lover. He turns his head to kiss your temple. "It's alright, baby. You're not the first person in this room to want him."
Surprise lights you up and when you try to turn your head to look at him. "What—"
"What, you think the old rumors about me and Robby are all horseshit? It was the nineties, sweetheart. We'd be the odd ones out if we were the only bandmates that never fucked," Jack laughs and you melt in his arms. All notion of infidelity leave your mind as you turn your gaze back to Robby whose got a wry grin on his lips. "So go on— be honest with yourself. You want him, don't you? Ever since he got you that pretty bracelet."
Jack walks you forward, passing you to Robby whose warm hands feel like sin when they glide beneath the sides of your top, settling onto your bare skin. "Jack," Robby mutters but even his walls are crumbling when he's face with you, soft and pliant, doe-eyed and still so eager to please.
"It's alright, sweetheart," Jack murmurs, pinning you between them as he glides his lips along the curve of your neck. "I know you're still mine, hm? Don't worry, Robby and I are good at sharing."
Now that leaves a trail of fire every time Jack's lips passes against your feverish skin, a kernel of doubt sitting at the base of your heart. Who else have they shared?
Robby doesn't hesitate to tug your chin up for his mouth to cover yours, erasing any lingering thoughts as his scruffy beard tickles your skin. The sudden kiss has you gasping and the older musician doesn't hesitate, his tongue passing through yours for a sweet taste that has him groaning. This snaps you into the present, pushing up against your toes to wrap your arms loosely around Robby's broad shoulders to kiss him back just as hungrily.
Jack's resounding chuckle behind you is permission enough to let Robby pull you up and into his arms, your legs hooking around the taller man's waist as he devours you. When the heat behind you disappears, you break the kiss with a little whine, looking over your shoulder to see your lover settle into the loveseat with a heady gaze that has you dripping.
"Keep going, sweetheart," he murmurs, legs spread so tantalizingly that a part of you also wants to sit in the space between to take whatever he gives you.
You suddenly gasp when Robby's hand slithers up the dress you're wearing, squealing when the sound of fabric tearing fills the room. Your inner thighs clench when Robby removes the dainty scrap of fabric from between your legs to toss over to Jack who catches it with ease. "Mikey—!" You protest with a sweet giggle.
"Gotta give him something sweet if I get to have you to myself for a bit longer," Robby mutters as he reaches up to drag your face back to his, just in time for you to catch a glimpse of Jack stroking his length with your panties before you're kissing Robby again.
He walks you over to the couch across Jack, sets you on his lap to face your lover. Robby has no shame in manhandling you in the position he wants as he brings your legs to bracket his knees, spreading them to force your thighs apart. His calloused hands glide up your smooth thighs, fingertips skimming along the inside before he's dragging your dress up to expose your dripping cunt.
"Fuck," Jack hisses and you look up through your lashes to see him pick up the pace, the baby pink underwear tangled with his fingers as he jerks off his cock at the sight of you.
"Liking the view, Abbot?" Robby teases as he hauls you a bit higher, pressing hungry, open-mouthed kisses along your neck while the pads of his fingers run up and down your dripping folds. When he spreads your pussy lips apart with his index and middle finger, Jack nearly cums. It's almost obscene, really, how fucking wet you are and Robby's fingers haven't even entered you yet.
You're writhing and moaning, humping Robby's hand for any kind of friction until the man finally gives in. "Keep your eyes on your boyfriend for me, princess," Robby murmurs in your ear, fucking you nice and slow with his index and middle finger. His jaw tenses. "Fuck, you're tight— how're you gonna get me to fit, hm?" He laughs meanly in your ear when he feels your wall clench around him. When he picks up the pace, embarrassment settles in at how loud his fingers sound slamming into you, squelching and dripping until your toes are curling and you're cumming without warning.
"Mm, Jack—!"
Robby nips at your jugular, harsh and quick. "That's not nice, screaming another man's name while I got my fingers in you," he tsks and an apology spills out of you but he removes his fingers, grips your jaw to pull you in for a searing kiss. He swallows down your 'sorry's, uncaring of the whimpers that escape next when he smears your own release along your neck and jaw. "S'alright, baby, I think I've got an idea on how you can make it up to me."
"H-How?" And don't you look perfect like this, Robby thinks to himself. Your lashes glitter with unshed tears, lips swollen from how hard you've bitten down on them as if it could hold back the way Jack spills from your mouth. Your eyes are fixed on him, eager to please.
Jack answers for Robby. "Ride him, sweetheart. Show him how good you are bouncing on an old man's cock."
Your cheeks burn in hot humiliation but your cunt throbs in anticipation.
"Oh," Jack shakes his head in faux disappointment. "Don't worry, baby. Daddy won't be mad if you cum on Robby's cock. He just can't finish in you, yeah? That's mine."
Robby's chuckle is warm against your shoulder as his hands grip your waist, prompting you to lift yourself just high enough for him to align his cock against your waiting cunt. Just the tip is enough to make your breath hitch, prodding your entrance as you begin to lower yourself. "Mm, fuckfuckfuck—" You whine as you take all of Robby. He's not as long but he's girthier than Jack, something your body is begging time to adjust to.
"You can take it," Jack murmurs and your eyes fly open to watch how your lover's eyes are fixed on your cunt swallowing up his best friend's cock. "Come on, sweetheart. Think you can give me a good show?"
You nod before anything else, bracing yourself against Robby as you begin to rock your hips back and forth. The slight pain from the stretch dissipates into pleasure, elevating each time you rise and fall on Robby's length. It's not long until you lose yourself to it, head thrown back against the older musician's shoulder as he possessively splays his hand out on your stomach, guiding your hips as you chase your pleasure. Robby and Jack continue to talk you through it, an addictive monologue as your mind goes fuzzy. You become lost in your desire, barely noticing the way Robby brings your arm around his head, his own dropping down to lave open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, down your chest before his lips latch onto your tit.
"Mikey…!" You cry out but he doesn't budge, his tongue flicking against your pert nub while you feel him suck. He grunts against your tit, his beard scratching along your sensitive skin before he catches the nipple between his teeth.
Eventually, that familiar taut knot in your core tightens, Jack catching onto the micro-expressions he's memorized when he knows you're close. "Go ahead, baby, give Robby your first orgasm," he croons. You notice his hand gripping the base of his cock, edging away his own climax as he watches the way you fall apart almost instantaneously.
"Christ," Robby hisses in your ear as he staves off his climax too, fingertips digging deep into your hips as he feels your walls convulse around his cock. In the cloud of your orgasm, you barely notice Jack stand, Robby carefully sliding out of you. The sudden loss makes you whimper as you're brought up to your feet. It feels like you're a step behind both men, pleasantly surprised as Jack pulls you in for a deep kiss. You melt into it and just as you're kissing back, he's breaking away for Robby to take over.
While Jack kisses like he's thirsty for your kiss, Robby kisses you like he's starving. His mouth devours yours, distracting you in the way your lover undresses you until you're standing nude between them. Their hands all over you, two mouths latched on either side of your neck, and you're unsure where Jack ends and Robby begins.
"You want her mouth?" Jack murmurs and it's like you're just a toy between them, a playmate that'll take whatever they give because if you had to be honest with yourself—you'd let them do whatever they wish.
"Fuck, yes." Robby mutters as he pulls away from your skin to lift your face to him by a pinch to your chin. His thumb drags your lower lip, down your mouth parting. "Look at you, so fuckin' pretty for us. Open wider for me, princess."
Your jaw drops, an instinctive, obedient action that elicits a pleased laugh from your other side. Jack, perhaps?
Robby looks at you — or rather, your mouth — a second more before he's spitting, the action taking you off guard that it's utter instinct that has you swallowing his saliva. When you open your mouth again, as if to ask for more, you're rewarded with a low moan and another heady kiss. Soon another set of lips join and all three of you are kissing, wet and sloppy and messy that has you dripping between your thighs.
Your hands are wandering as much as theirs, too, curious touch seeking out both of their bulges that draw out twin moans from both men. You break the kiss first, peeking down to slide your hands down their pants while the two of them devour each other.
A couple seconds pass, Robby and Jack swapping spit while you watch, entranced in a way that you can't look away even if you wanted to. You pump their lengths lazily once and that draws them back to you, matching gazes of lust packed with a look of desire that has you whimpering.
"Think I wanna share her mouth with you," Robby mutters as he traces the corner of your mouth, barking out a laugh when your lips patch onto his thumb to suck desperately.
"Yes, please—" you beg around his thumb, your gaze casting between them both.
"Another time," Jack grunts as he shifts you onto the low reclining armchair. You sit on your knees. "Right now, I need your cunt and Robby wants your mouth. Hands and knees for me, sweetheart."
A thrill shoots down your spine and you nearly scramble to get into position, resting your hands against the back of the reclined armchair and sticking your ass out. Jack settles behind you, his hands dancing along your ass, and Robby stands in front, stroking his cock lazily as he draws his precum along your cheek and chin.
Robby doesn't hesitate to feed his cock into your waiting mouth once Jack gives him a nod from above you, Your eyelashes flutter, jaw aching slightly as you take all you can before one of your hands rise up to stroke the length your mouth can't reach. Behind you, Jack's tip glides along your dripping folds, eliciting a muffled whine from you before he's pushing in.
"Thought Robby loosened you for me, baby," Jack mutters meanly, bullying his cock into your waiting cunt until both men are completely sheathed within you. "S'like she's just sucking me in—"
"I'd fuck her mouth every day if I were you, shit—" Robby curses above you and the view nearly makes you lightheaded, his slight protruding stomach, the happy trail leading down to where you've got your mouth wrapped around his cock, the scruffy beard and dark eyes fixed on your glassy ones. "That's it, baby, choke on it."
Ever one to please, you bob your head, pulling back your mouth to swirl your tongue around his tip while Jack begins to move behind you. The drag of his cock against your walls has your eyes rolling back and the curse that falls from Robby's lips is something you barely register. At this point, your mouth is open, loose and pliant for Robby to fuck while Jack punches out sweet, staccato moans from behind you.
"Mm— ngh…!" You gag around Robby's cock, drool and precum smearing along your chin as your lover's hand fixes around your hips like you're a toy he's pulling up and down his length. You've gone mindless like this, drifting higher and higher with ecstasy as the room's filled with your broken moans and both men's breathy grunts of your name.
"Fuck, I'm close," Robby mutters as he gathers your hair in one grip, holding it up and out of the way so he can watch the way his cock plunges in and out of your kiss-swollen lips. You're ruined between them both, makeup running and mascara a dark smear with a touch of glitter that shimmers when the light catches your blotchy face just right. Your lipstick is nonexistent but Robby likes to think it's your makeup that's smeared along the length of his cock.
Jack grunts behind, his pace stuttering just enough for his cock to slam into the spot you need him most. "She is, too."
Taking pity for you, Robby pulls his length out, lets his heavy tip rest on your cheek and lips as you catch your breath with a wet gag. You don't stop there, though, moaning around his ruddy head as you let your tongue loll out to glide along the underside of his cock. With a sharp thrust from Jack, you shriek in sweet euphoria.
"God, yesyesyes, there—! Fuck, daddy, don't stop—!" You scream and Jack bullies his tip right where you beg for it, catapulting you over the edge just as Robby shoves his cock back into your waiting mouth.
Your hands nearly give as Robby's cock slides back out of your mouth, smearing his cum along your cheek and neck as he coaxes out his orgasm to your face lost in desperate ecstasy. Jack finishes seconds later and a blissful smile curls along your lips when he shoves his spend deep inside your walls.
Eventually, it all becomes too much and your upper body stumbles, your hands sliding out from beneath to lay out ass up, face down on the reclined armchair. Someone chuckles lowly, something soft and endearing as you rub your cheek against the leather upholstery that you're sprawled on.
A stubbly kiss lands on your spine and you lean into it with a soft hum. "Holy shit," you breathe out in contentment, offering a quiet whimper when you feel Jack slowly pull out, a mix of both of your releases spilling out of you.
"I'll get something to clean her off," someone says. Robby, maybe? You're too content from where you're at, unwilling to move unless someone does it for you. Jack knows this better than anyone because your boneless body is carefully shifted, rolled onto your back where feather-light kisses are peppered along your hairline.
"Can you get up for me, sweetheart? You're about to fall asleep in that armchair and you're gonna regret it in the morning," Jack murmurs against your hair. Footsteps steal your attention and you peek towards the source to see Robby approach, holding a couple damp washcloths.
He sits onto the armrest right as Jack helps you sit up. His large hand cradles your jaw, tilts your head up so he can wipe his own cum off your face with a feather-light touch. He doesn't meet your eyes, focused on clearing up your face.
"Hi," you say, voice wrecked and raw but no less tender.
Robby's eyes meet yours and he lets out a low chuckle. "Hi there, pretty girl. Think you're up for a shower or do you want to head straight to bed?"
Between your legs, Jack gently pries your knees apart to clean you up there too, hushing you gently when you wince at the rough drag against the sensitive skin there.
"Bed," you decide and Robby nods, sets aside the cloths before he's lifting you up to bring you the guest bedroom just a few paces away. He's tucking you in as Jack sits at the foot of the bed, removing his leg, but as he walks off, you tug at his hand. "Mikey, where are you going?"
Robby pauses, juts a thumb over his shoulder but your little pout keeps him fixed to where he stands.
"Will you stay? The bed's big for all three of us."
"I—" Robby looks over to Jack who's already joining you beneath the covers, pulling you closer to make room on the other side of your body. Jack shrugs, glances back down at you.
"Think you can say 'no' to her?" Jack mouths to him. A beat passes and Robby lets out a quick sigh, something fond passing over his eyes before he's sliding into the other side of the bed. You're in the middle, happily bracketed by both men.
You're the first to fall asleep and after a silent conversation is had above your head, Jack and Robby follow.
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Morning comes with a dull soreness between your thighs and a tightness in your jaw.
"Mmm…" you groan as you try to roll over only to hit a warm chest. The movement kickstarts a domino effect: Jack tugs you in closer to his chest as the both of you lay face to face on your sides, meanwhile Robby's heavy arm that had been laying upon yours and Jack's hips lifts off.
You whine at the removal.
"I'm just getting coffee, darlin'. Stay put before Jack goes looking for you too."
You blink with bleary eyes, feel a soft pressure against your temple before the bed lifts slightly when Robby exits the cuddle pile you dragged both men into. You watch his retreating form exit the bedroom, wearing what looked like his boxers along with Jack's shirt.
When sleep refuses to return, you sigh and kick away the blankets tangled around your legs to reach around Jack who snores into your chest. "Babe—" you giggle when his lips drag along your boob, a playful lick and bite to your nipple.
"Good morning," he hums against the valley of your breasts before your fingers snag onto the shirt you've seen folded in the mess of blankets behind Jack (blanket hog, you huff playfully to yourself). You pull it on, realizing it may be Robby's and steal a kiss from your lover's playful pout when you had covered your tits in front of him. "Hey—"
"Absolutely not, Robby already did a number on my boobs and I really don't want my makeup artist questioning the location of the hickeys you two left on me."
Jack huffs as he sits up against the headboard, lifting an arm for you to settle into. "Are you filming something soon?"
You nod, glancing up in time to see Robby approach with two steaming mugs of coffee. Jack takes one and when you take the other, you frown when Robby's left empty-handed. "Where's yours?"
Robby shakes his head. "Kitchen wasn't stocked with enough coffee for more than two mugs."
A frown mars your lips and you take a sip before handing your mug over. "We can share." You don't give him any room for argument. Instead, you scoot over and give him space to rest against the headboard beside you. "As I was saying, yes— filming for my music video starts in about a week and I'm tired of my makeup artists wiggling their eyebrows at me!"
An amused laugh escapes Jack as he sets his coffee down. The pleased look in his eyes counteracts any kind of apology he may have for you, looking far too happy with himself when his gaze drags down your covered frame for the marks he and Robby had left on you. "That's a shame, you look good with both of our marks, sweetheart,"
You hide your smile against the rim of your mug. "S'not like this is gonna be a common thing, right?"
Jack's arm around you shifts. "What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know, I just— I haven't done anything like that before. Being shared," you admit as you hold the mug upon your lap, the heat from the coffee bleeding through the blankets. Your age has never been a problem when it comes to Jack but in the face of both men, during the morning after a threesome … you're in new territory and coming off as clingy and immature hangs over your head.
"Hey," Robby cuts through your thoughts, gently taking the mug from your hand to tip your chin up. "There's no wrong or right answer to what I'm about to ask you but— did you like it?"
"What?"
"Last night," Robby murmurs, patient as ever. "Did you like having Jack and I last night?"
You nod without hesitating. "I did— did you?"
"Of course," he chuckles, almost incredulously at the insecurity shadowing your gaze. "You did so good for both of us, angel. Took us so well."
Jack nods and takes your hand to bring up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "We both loved it, sweetheart. I already know Robby's answer but we gotta ask: do you want to do something like that again?"
"I…" Your head swivels, trying to look at both men to gauge their reaction. "Like a regular thing?"
Robby shakes his head, still wearing that fond smile you're growing to love so much. "Not necessarily. Maybe if your schedules allow it or we're all in the mood for it, sure. Call me your unofficial third."
You stare at him slight shock before you turn to Jack. "I'm obviously okay with this but are you?"
"Of course. We've done this before."
That doesn't quite sit right in your stomach but you keep your mouth shut, realizing you don't quite have a leg to stand on. So you hum, buying time as you take the mug back from Robby for another sip to hide the slight hurt. After pulling yourself together, you give both men a nod.
"Sure, I'm okay with this."
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You actually aren't quite sure if you are but without the resounding 'no' in your head (it's more of a big question mark), you realize it isn't something to hyperfixate on.
So you take advantage of the handful of free days you have between leaving Indio and filming for your music video in Los Angeles, hitting up little boutiques that dot Santa Monica Boulevard or secondhand bookstores a few miles away from the city. Jack would've loved to tag along but he had signed a contract with Dior, becoming the face of a new men's cologne that he's set to start promoting soon.
(It's divine, the new cologne; you had ridden him for nearly hours when he had came by a couple days ago.)
While you're more than capable of going alone, Robby's taken it upon himself to drive you around. After getting half-baked answers as to why, you've given up on asking and just enjoy his presence. It had been a wonderful surprise to find out you both share similar tastes in books, kickstarting a little book club of two after he had trailed after you in The Last Bookstore, dutifully holding a pile of your chosen picks.
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DEUXMOI—
Sent via form submission, anonymous. Subject: 'STAR' DATING ROBBY?
Message: After seeing both guitarists of NIGHTCRAWLER at Coachella singing along to her music, did something change for her to be spending more time with Robby instead of Jack?
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Sent via form submission, anonymous. Subject: Star swaps boyfriends.
Message: Saw Star and Robby around Santa Monica the past couple of weeks just shopping with no Jack in sight. Are they sharing her or did she swap one for an older model?
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US WEEKLY — TROUBLE IN PARADISE?
JUST DAYS AFTER HER COACHELLA PERFORMANCE, SOURCES HAVE SPOTTED STAR AND ROBBY WITHOUT JACK AROUND LOS ANGELES. BUT WHILE THEY LOOK COZY AS EVER, MANY FANS CLAIM THAT JACK AND STAR ARE STILL TOGETHER AFTER OVERHEARING CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN ROBBY AND STAR. WHAT'S THE TRUTH?
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You're back to work mode as Cassie and your driver, Antoine, brings you to a soundstage at Warner Brothers to film your music video.
It's a three day schedule and the first day had been shorter than originally planned after a few mishaps with the set designs. Parker Ellis, the director for your music video, had been a dream to work with. Although she isn't the first director you've worked with since your ex-boyfriend, Baz, she's the polar opposite of him. Any hiccup had always gotten him spiraling, taking it out on any poor subordinate in his vicinity. With Parker, she'd merely shrugged and worked out a new storyboard schedule out with the producers to see what you could film in the meantime.
By day two, you're back on schedule. You're fitted in one of the outfits that you'll mainly be in for the majority of the music video and you're wandering part of the set as you wait for the camera to reset, lost in your thoughts.
There's a new cameraderie that's grown between you and Robby, something you've noticed while pointedly ignoring the articles being published about you and him. Before Coachella, he'd been someone you didn't quite know how to get close to, a canyon between your heart and his. Robby had been delegated as your lover's best friend. The threesome had somehow been an unorthodox way of breaking the ice. Since then, Robby had somehow turned into—
"Mikey!" You screech in surprise, bursting into giggles. You had seen them both enter the soundstage but before you could even get a word in, you're suddenly over Robby's shoulder, pounding away at his back with your fists. Jack watches in quiet amusement and a thrill shoots you when you catch a trace of a smirk on his lips. "My wings, they're going to fall!"
Robby takes pity on the outfit your team as poured you into: white and simple — virginal, almost — and draped artfully to highlight your frame in the most flattering light. Your makeup is bare and delicate with a touch of white shimmer in your inner corners. Paired with a set of fluffy white wings, you look like an angel sent from above.
Jack's heart thunders dangerously as you step away from Robby to approach him. His hands find your waist as he places a delicate kiss on your glossy lips, careful to not ruin your makeup. "You look breathtaking, angel."
"That's the point," a new voice interrupts. The three of you turn to see Parker approach, absentmindedly swirling a cup of coffee. "Jack and Robby, pleasure to meet you."
"This is Parker Ellis." You introduce her with a bright smile. "She's the director for my music video."
The two men shake her hand, exchanging pleasantries. "Mind if we stick around?" Jack asks, his hand settling around your waist.
"By all means," Parker says, gestures to the spare seats behind her. "We're shooting indoors for the rest of the day."
They both nod and watch Parker retreat to the camera where a few producers are discussing the storyboard for the storyline created. Being left alone, Robby swoops down to kiss your cheek before Jack does the same to the other.
"How's it going so far, sweetheart?" Jack murmurs, his gaze wandering around the set. There's a metropolis set up in one corner of the soundstage, another is a two-story facade of a mansion with a gorgeous ornate balcony.
You lean into his embrace, enjoying his warmth. "It's been alright, so far. We haven't filmed much but we're waiting for Mateo."
"Mateo? Who's Mateo—"
"I'm here!" A voice sounds from the other end of the studio and the way you perk up has Jack and Robby shift uneasily. "So sorry I'm late, there was traffic at Culver—"
"There's always traffic there," you laugh as you escape Jack's side to go greet the new guy. Both men watch you be pulled into his arms, your smile bright and sweet. "Guys, this is Mateo Diaz, my love interest for the music video. Mateo, this is Jack and Robby."
Mateo's a handsome young actor that's been taking Hollywood by storm, dark curly hair with a neat beard and a smile that had all the young women he passed by swooning.
He's also around your age.
"Hi, I grew up listening to NIGHTCRAWLER, my dad's a huge fan!"
Jack fights back a grimace, shakes his hand nice and firm. "Nice to meet you, Matthew."
Mateo's smile never falters. "It's Mateo."
"Right."
Before you can even dwell on the odd interaction, you're being called to set and Mateo's being ushered into hair and makeup. Jack and Robby are called away to craft services in the meantime, set designers and assistants resetting the scenes for you and your main lead.
Realization kicks in when one of the PAs roll in a giant aquarium, Robby turning to his friend to ask if he recognizes the reference to Baz Luhrman's Romeo + Juliet (he remembered how much you adored DiCaprio in it, recalled how you made Jack watch it over and over again on the projector on your rooftop). But Jack's eyes are on you, standing across the room with Mateo reappearing in costume. The knight costume fits him perfectly, dark curls pushed back by your delicate hand with a bright laugh.
"You're gonna scare away the PAs," Robby mutters under his breath to Jack.
"Don't know what you're talking about." But Jack tears his gaze away from you to tug his phone out, thumbing through emails and social media posts. Majority of it is you, a perfect mirror image of his mind lately. You occupy his waking thoughts, his every moment. He can hear Robby chuckle, see the way the people around steal glances before the lights dim and Parker calls out 'action!'
Your voice echoes out from the large speakers, the first verse of 'stupid song' playing out as you reenact the scene from the movie with Mateo. Although Jack had been adamant on not watching any scene with your male lead, you're enchanting. The shy smiles, the delicate touches and the laughter that plays on top of the sweet instrumentals… Jack can picture himself in Mateo's shoes.
"Cut!"
Drawn out of his thoughts, you pull away from Mateo where you're both supposed to mime a kiss. The camera resets, pulling back just as the lights flicker back on. Your team rushes in to blot your skin, reapply makeup and rearrange a few pieces of your hair.
Filming continues on and Robby excuses himself in between takes, making sure to pull you aside for a proper goodbye. When he kisses your forehead, Jack rubs his chest. That dull thud of frustration that had bloomed with Mateo is nonexistent when the smile you give Robby is a touch sweeter than the rest.
"We're on the last scene," you tell him a few takes later, changed into a long-sleeved burgundy dress. Jack recognizes it to be a rendition or remaking of Olivia Hussey's Juliet outfit from the 1968 version of Romeo and Juliet. He's still lounging in a spare director's chair, knees parted for you to stand between. "Will you stay to take me home? I know Robby had some recording to do."
"Of course," he murmurs, fingertips catching on the sleeve of your dress to lift your hand up. He places a kiss to your exposed wrist. "You're breathtaking, sweetheart. The perfect Juliet."
You flush prettily. "Thanks, Jack… I'm ready to finish this up, though. I'm getting sick of my own song."
He laughs and nods in understanding, enjoying this pocket of intimacy with you despite the busy set. "Like you said, you're almost done. How about we catch some rooftop pizza tonight?"
"That'd be perfect," you sigh dreamily. "Mateo invited me out for drinks at Barney's but I—"
"Barney's? That's…" Jack catches himself. "Why won't you go?"
Your smile shifts a bit, confusion filtering through. "What do you mean? I'd rather have pizza."
"Sweetheart, you don't have to pity your old man. You wanna hang out with kids your age, go ahead. Don't let me stop you."
Your touch grows cold and you step away. "What the hell are you talking about? I want to spend tonight with you, why are you making this weird, Jack?"
His tongue feels heavy, his mind is static and the only thing that he does understand is the frustration building in his gut. But he takes a deep breath and shakes his head, his arm reaching out to tug you back into his chest. "That's not what I mean, baby. I just—" He lets out another quiet sigh. "Never mind. Vitto's pizza, you and me. Alright?"
You hold your guarded expression a second too long but you drop it eventually, nodding and kissing him deeply, lipstick be damned. "Rooftop pizza. It's a date."
"It's a date."
You return back to the final scene, mimicking the church where Romeo and Juliet meet their fatal end. The song had skipped the bridge but Jack figures that part may have been filmed already. Instead, the music starts up at the final chorus. You lip sing as you're laid out on the ivory pillows with Mateo lying prone beside you. The final chords ring out and your eyes shut, the camera panning to Mateo's wrist where it ends on a final zoom in to the heart pendant with your initial engraved sewn into the fabric of his sleeve.
Jack recognizes the reference immediately. A lyric from your debut album: 'let him wear my heart on his sleeve if he's my one true love'. It had been a fantastical album, a whimsical concept that had been executed perfectly that had been aligned with your musical style.
He wonders if you'd let him wear a pendant like that on his sleeve.
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Your schedules are starting to ramp up with the upcoming release of your EP. Little by little, your team is dropping teasers and graphic posts to increase the surrounding hype and anticipation of it all. Worldwide, pop-up stores emerge in the major metropolitan cities to sell limited stock of your merch.
All in all, no one can move (online and offline) without seeing your name.
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PINK LIMOUSINES COMING! @.starsbabey — 2h guys should i get tickets for nightcrawler's tour??
JACKSTAR ENTHUSIAST @.jackstarsthird — 4h i'll buy star's ep for everyone who likes this tweet if i'm right and she comes out as the opener for their tour
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While you continue your preparations, Robby takes it upon himself to smooth out any hiccups that's beginning to arise with the upcoming release of their album and their tour to give Jack room to work on the ambassadorship he'd been offered through Dior.
He hadn't been too sure on what entails with an ambassadorship but the liaisons and partners he's met with the fashion house had been highly accommodating, making sure to schedule appearances at shows or galas where it fits between his musical priorities. But the downside that follows means that rooftop pizza dates are becoming rarer and rarer, phone calls and texts are few and far in between.
So maybe the lack of 'you' is the cause of his annoyance and frustration that clings to his every waking moment, the paparazzi shots of you all around Los Angeles with your friends killing his mood every time he checks his texts to see no new messages from you.
He's too old to be playing games but something about you always dials everything he feels to eleven, his mind cloudy with nothing but you until he finds himself lost in his thoughts. So maybe he forces himself to write lyrics when you finally text back, force you to wait the same amount of time he did for just a modicum of your attention.
At the end of the day, he's gritting his teeth as he keeps himself from checking his texts with nothing to show for it. Exhaustion and emotional fatigue has him snapping at you a couple days later, when both of you find a spare hour to call.
"Sorry," he sighs through the phone, rubbing his temple as he lays back on his couch while music plays from his turntable. Even the comforting warbling of Ella Fitzgerald hasn't soothed his raw nerves and poor you had taken the brunt of his shitty mood. "Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Had a long day."
A quiet huff can be heard from your end, a bit of loud conversation mingling in the background of wherever you are. Jack ignores another stab of annoyance."Must be. You forgot you said you were coming with me to Trinity's dinner at Nobu."
"Shit." He rubs his face with his hand, leans over and starts to rise. "I'm coming, baby, I'm sorry—"
"Jack, it's fine." And that's what did it, really. Your quiet acceptance, the fight leaving your tone so quickly it didn't really settle in properly. He sits back down, the guilt too hard to swallow. "We're both busy. I got used to having you around so often… Maybe we can do Vitto's soon? I have a free day in a couple days."
He's nodding before he can even get the words out. "Yes— yes, that's perfect, angel. I'll even go for the gelato you love so much."
"You hate the gelato," you laugh softly.
"Yeah, but you don't." Something rests easy in his chest now as he lets out a little sigh. "Enjoy your dinner with Trinity, baby. I promise I'll make it up to you."
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One of the people in charge for arranging meetings fucked up. Royally. Usually, Jack is more laid back; Robby's the one up in arms at scheduling mishaps like this. But the consequence of an overbooked meeting and recording session had resulted in a thirteen hour work day in the building, pingponging between the conference rooms and the recording booths.
While things usually get settled and smoothed out by end of day, the meeting culminated into more unresolved issues that bled over into another work day. The rooftop pizza with you had been cancelled and there had been an edge to your voice he didn't have the mental bandwidth to unravel and understand.
The bed was cold when he fell asleep in it, colder still when he realized you hadn't reached out since then.
He doesn't see you for another few days; you had been invited to a few movie premieres Nick Barker's starring in. The familiar flicker of jealousy erupts, momentarily tamed to realize that it's the movie 'stupid song' is featured in, only to burst into a near-catastrophic wildfire when he sees live updates of you taking photos with Mateo on the carpet.
The jealousy moves him to call up Robby who sounds just as annoyed.
"I know," his friend says in greeting. "I see it. It's fine, she isn't his date." Jack grunts and a beat passes. "Why weren't you with her?"
"Got busy," Jack grouses.
An incredulous laugh filters through the phone. "If she was mine, she would take priority, Abbot. Don't get too comfortable now."
The line goes dead before Jack can get another word in.
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Jack sees you a couple days later on a Friday night at some hotshot producer's party in North Hollywood. The brutalist modern style home is open with security dotting the entrances. With the party in full swing, he maneuvers through the drunk occupants to find you sitting on the armrest of a chair that Robby's sitting on. His hand is sitting on your thigh, your arm loose around his shoulders while you absentmindedly play with his beard. The two of you are chatting it up with a long-retired producer.
He waits for the jealousy to kick in, seeing you so closely entwined with another man. But it just feels like coming home to two of his favorite people.
Jack shakes away the confusion and approaches, ducking down to kiss your cheek. "Sorry I'm late," he murmurs and you startle. At the sight of him, you beam and throw yourself into his arms for a kiss he hasn't realized he's been craving.
He smiles against your mouth, his hands gripping your waist tight. "I missed you too, sweetheart." Before he can say another word, you take his hand and lead him out to the side of the house where there aren't much lingering. When they see the both of you enter the tiny opening (probably meant to house the trash cans), the people give you the space.
Jack doesn't waste a second to pin you against the concrete walls, devouring your mouth in a way that's reminiscent of how Robby had kissed you all those days ago. "Jack—" you giggle and after he's gotten his fill, he reluctantly pulls away to dig out a pack of Marlboro reds. Half empty.
You raise a brow in surprise but you hold no judgment. Instead, you take his lighter and spark up a flame, lifting it to the end of his cigarette that he's got between his teeth. His eyes never leave yours even when you lean away, his lips closing around it to take a drag. The two of you stand in comfortable silence. When you reach out for it, he raises a brow and hands it to you.
"Long week," you shrug as you exhale away from him. He chuckles and nods in agreement. "I did miss you, Jack."
"I did, too. Feels like I haven't seen you in years."
He watches you stare at him and it feels like he's missing something when your face falls. "Yeah. Been too long." When he doesn't reply, something shutters in your gaze.
"You haven't tried seeing me."
"What? What are you talking about, angel—"
You shake your head, steal the cigarette from his hand. "No, you haven't tried seeing me. I know we're both busy, I'm not stupid, but you haven't even reached out once."
"Angel, that's not fair—"
"Did you know Robby had been checking up on me?" Jack stills at the sudden mention of his friend. "He was surprised that you didn't offer to pick me up or drive me here to this party."
The end of the cigarette tip burns orange as you take another long drag. "I'm sorry. You know I am. It's just this ambassadorship and the tour, it's a lot—"
"Jack, what is this?" You gesture to the space between you and him, the cigarette tucked between your index and middle knuckles. "Seriously— I don't know if you want a girlfriend or someone to keep your bed warm. If you just wanted a fuckin' PR stunt, just say so. I can draw up a contract right now—"
"Sweetheart, hold on a sec—" Jack nearly trips over himself to get to you, broad hands cradling your cheek to meet your eyes. His heart splinters at the sight of unshed tears. "Baby, come on. You know that's not true, that's not— you're more than that. I know I've been distant but I swear to god, you're all I want. Yeah?" His thumb swipes away tear. "You're the only one for me."
The hurt that's been cresting in your chest breaks and you let out a quiet sob, pushing forward to hide your face into his neck. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."
"No, baby. Never, hm? You're my everything—"
His phone ringing is loud enough to cut through the moment, the shrill tone driving what feels like a nail through his frontal lobe. "Fuck," he hisses. You pull away and it feels like you're slipping through his fingers.
"It's fine," you sniffle. You take another drag of your stolen cigarette. "You should answer it."
He sighs and pins you back against the side of the house with a warm hand on your hip. His other hand digs out his phone and answers it. While he talks to the Dior representatives on the line, he watches you. Sees the way your eyes shift in and out of focus before you fight back another sniffle. You still aren't okay and this phone call is keeping him hostage. He's nodding and offering empty noises to the rep but he's dragged to attention when he hears the demand.
"What— tonight?! You want me to fly out tonight?" He drops your hip to drag his hand through silver curls. His head falls to rest his forehead against yours, taps the speaker button and holds the phone between both of you. A man with a thick french accent sounds horribly stressed, begging for Jack to fly a day early to get fittings done for the show he's attending. With a little smile, you nod and he sighs in defeat. "I'll be there."
The call ends and he draws you in for another kiss, tinged with desperation and guilt. "Get Robby to drive you home, alright?" When you nod, he knows this conversation isn't even close to a resolution. "When I get back on Monday, I'm going straight to your place. Alright? No bullshit. Even if you're busy for the day, I'll be waiting for you. I promise, angel."
You melt and he sees that you believe him. For now. "Alright. Have a safe flight, baby."
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Robby had planned on a lazy Sunday evening. The endless meetings Jack had been stuck in the past few days had resulted in a nice, slow weekend for him. It'd been odd enough, seeing his closest friend plastered all over the front pages without your name tacked onto it. But it's nice; Jack looks good in Dior, schmoozing with other big names at the front row seats for fashion shows he must've hated. Back in Los Angeles, your music video for 'stupid song' had dropped and posters for your upcoming EP paints the streets of Santa Monica Boulevard.
The call back of the heart pendant to an old song of yours had been trending so wildly that your team had put out a charm bracelet for the reference on your merch shop: a simple silver chain with a silver locket pendant.
He settles into his bed with a finger tucked between the pages of a book he's been reading, ready to unwind, when his phone rings on his bedside. He doesn't check the caller ID when he answers. "Hello?"
"Mikey?"
Robby sits up. No one calls him that but you. "Angel? What's going on?"
Music blares on the line and he can hear you jostle the phone, as if you're tucking it between your ear and shoulder. The music dies down and he assumes you stepped outside of a party or club you were attending. "Hi— sorry, I know it's late. But my head is killing me and I wanna go home early."
He's already walking out, sliding into shoes. "It's fine, sweetheart, I'm glad you called me. You drunk?"
"No," you say and he believes it. "I was tipsy earlier but it made my headache worse… Will you come soon?"
"I will, angel, don't worry. Be there in fifteen. Can you wait inside for me?"
"S'too loud," you huff. "It's okay, Frankie's out here with me. He's keeping me company."
A lick of jealousy climbs up the base of his neck as he grabs his keys, throws himself into his Porsche. "Stay on the phone for me, sweetheart."
"Mkay." You chirp and a soft chuckle spills from Robby, unbidden. Someone speaks to you and while he doesn't hear exactly what he says, he hears your reply: "No, Jack's in France. Robby's picking me up."
The fifteen minutes is spent with you happily chattering about your day, how you had spent most of the party situated next to your favorite baseball player (whoso happens to be 'Frankie') before the headache started to kick in. Eventually, his car rolls up to a tiny little dive bar that's spilling with people out onto the sidewalk. You're sitting on a tiny planter, your dress doing very little to cover your frame, while sitting besides a young man that Robby recognizes immediately.
"Frank Langdon, shortstop—" Robby chuckles as he offers the baseball player with a nod after he helps you into the spare carhartt jacket he's brought for you. He zips it up, gently nudges your chin with a playful tap. "Thanks for keeping my girl company."
Frank nods, his baby blues piercing yours with an easy grin. "Not a problem. Tell Jack I said hi, yeah. Good night, kid." He ruffles your hair before entering the party once more.
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When Robby drives you home, it feels like he's on autopilot. He doesn't know what to do with you, ever since he's gotten a taste. Even before, when he had gotten you that bracelet that you're still wearing, he's tried to hold you at arm's length. He thought it was to appease Jack's jealousy, holding that unnecessary boundary, but the evening he spent with both of you erased that immediately. He wonders if his brain had known first before anything that you've made a home in his chest, that he'd open the doors of his heart to you rather than take a sledgehammer to the walls.
He follows you to your door when he brings you home, nods absently when you request him to stay, when you offer him a glass of water. His eyes trail along your figure, still in that heartbreakingly gorgeous dress. Time passes as he sits on your couch, waiting for you to return out of the shower.
"Thanks again for picking me up." He hears your voice before he sees you and when he looks up, his heart stops.
You look like everything he had ever wanted and had no right to touch. Irresistible, golden, sitting high on a shelf that only Jack could reach. The thought of his friend burns like firewood in his chest but the immediate guilt that follows extinguishes it before it can spread. He loves Jack, loves him more than he could bring himself to admit. A man that knows his soul as well as his own and yet — the resentment burns like sweet liquor in his throat when his eyes land on you.
He's seen you in your best, soft skin gleaming with a body poured in a dress that does more for his heart than he'd allow himself to dwell, hair and makeup artfully done without a flaw to be seen (or picked apart by vultures with cameras). But tonight, you're comfortable in an old collegiate shirt — all frayed edges and wool-worn hems, skin clean and untouched. Bare and vulnerable and soft to the touch and he's never ached for anything more than to draw you in his arms.
"You're more than I could ever deserve." The words spill out of him before he can wrap it into a joke, something packaged into a playful jab because who was he to demand something—anything—from you?
You startle in surprise as he stands to his feet. "Mikey…"
"You know, you're the only one that's called me that before." He admits quietly, his long strides bringing him closer and closer to you until his palm can rest along your jaw. "I don't know what you did to me but ever since that night, I can't stop thinking about you."
He can't stop now, can't pull back the words that fell from his lips as he gently guides your chin up. His long nose brushes along yours. Drinks up the way your breath hitches, your eyes fluttering shut.
He should stop. Drop your cheek. Walk out the door.
But it's like he's a car speeding down Mulholland drive, like he's watching from the outside.
"Mikey, I think—"
He never did know what you thought because he's kissing you, his lips chastely pressed against yours for a couple beats. Reality rushes in soon after, guilt growing like a parasite in his heart, and as he tries to lean away, he feels the subtlest pressure against his mouth.
You're kissing back.
A low groan rumbles in his chest as he cradles your face for a deeper kiss, tilting his head to better slot your lips together. The world falls away and he could die happy like this—
Until he feels your hands on his chest, giving a push. He breaks away immediately and tries not to close the distance again. Your hands still hover in mid-air, lips forming words you can't speak.
"I— I think you should go," you whisper. Robby nods, steals a glance of you returning to your bedroom, before walking away.
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Jack figures something is wrong when you're the one who picks him up at LAX the next morning. The Tom Bradley terminal is chaos and he had barely given you enough of a heads up to go to the PS VIP runway, picking him up there instead rather than the main pickup locations.
"Hey, sweetheart. Missed you." He leans in for a kiss which you reciprocate, albeit distractedly. Your smile is shaky as you pull onto the imperial highway, speeding down before traffic catches you.
"How was Paris?"
The car ride is uneventful and if Jack doesn't let himself dwell, he figures nothing is wrong but he knows you now. He's catalogued every little detail. Knows that the furrow between your brow means something has been weighing on your mind.
But he doesn't push and just lets himself fall into old routines with you, answering your questions and regaling you with his time at the fashion show. It isn't until you've pulled into your private driveway, unlocked the house to allow him in, that he finally asks you.
"What's going on?"
"I kissed Robby," you blurt out. Your eyes are wide, distraught with what looked like guilt as your hands shake by your sides. "Or— he kissed me but I kissed back and— fuck, Jack I'm so so sorry—"
"Hey, hey, hey— shh…" His hands swoop down to take yours, gently squeezing before his touch glides up your arms to hold your face. "Sweetheart, breathe for me."
Your shoulders rise and fall, your sweet gaze looking like a baby bunny cornered. "You're not… mad?"
"No, baby." He says instinctively, his need to comfort you taking over anything else— but he realizes he means it. That stab of jealousy that never really goes away when you're with anyone but him doesn't come. The little monster of envy lays dormant in his chest. "No, I'm not mad. Is this why you've been so antsy?"
You nod and he can feel your muscles relax, loosening from their tense position as you allow him to hug you tightly. "I asked him to pick me up last night from a party… he brought me home and then he kissed me," you say quietly against the collar of his shirt.
"Sweetheart, he had his cock in you just a few weeks ago, I'm not getting jealous over a kiss," he chuckles but the way you tighten your arms around him finally clears things up. "Baby, look at me."
It takes a second but you finally lift your head, a pout sitting upon your lips.
"I am a jealous man, there's no doubt about it, but I meant it when I say Robby and I are good at sharing," he murmurs. "I trust him with you. He's my best friend, but you? You're my girl, angel."
The guilt finally dissipates and the distance between you and Jack disappear when you pull him in for a kiss. He growls against your lips, lifts you in his arms to carry you to bed. He fucks you slow and deep— no. He makes love to you right then and there, promises and silent vows spilling from kiss-bitten lips. His touch is everywhere and you feel shrouded in it, cocooned in his attentive desire even when sleep follows after you come down from the climax.
In the quiet of your bedroom, Jack glances over to your sleeping frame. He drinks in the line of your exposed spine, the way your body rises and falls in slumber, before his attention returns back to his phone.
Unfinished lyrics stare up at him.
Chasing things that I can't replace Wishing every face that I see was like you Tell me if I'm slipping away Might not see the reason to stay but I do
Your tears falling hard on my shoulder Don't leave, I don't wanna start over
He sends it to Robby.
[Robby] I think I have a melody for this. [Robby] She told you? [Jack] I can't lose her, man. [Robby] You won't. After I kissed her, she told me you were the first person she was going to tell. She's scared of losing you too.
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TMZ — JACKSTAR REUNITED
OUT ON THE STREETS OF HOLLYWOOD, OUR FAVORITE COUPLE WAS SEEN AFTER JACK'S DEBUT AT THE DIOR FASHION SHOW IN PARIS.
Fans gush about their willingness to interact with everyone they bump into but one major detail that Star's fans can't stop talking about is the new accessory that Jack has been sporting.
[IMAGE ATTACHED: A zoom in of Jack's grey sleeve, the hand blurry from the movement caught mid-frame. On the seam, a gold pendant is sewn into the fabric. A gold heart pendant with your initial engraved.]
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thank you so much for reading! as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated but comments are highly cherished!
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