i'm still thinking about shabana in a queer romance movie... shabana kissing a woman... shabana in love with a woman... friends to lovers and convincing the other person to stay.... i know it hasn't started filming but. god i can't wait
summary. It's become an open secret that you and Jack are dating but the world grows frustrated when neither of you give the details everyone has been begging for.
word count. 12.3k
content warnings. fluff, smut (light choking, fingering, riding), 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. these chapters keep getting longer lol , reader is also really into baseball sorry i make the rules! also there's a 'the bear' reference here again lol , also fluff galore !!!
Sent via form submission, anonymous.
Subject: Singer 'Star' dating both guitarists from NIGHTCRAWLER.
Message: So many eye witnesses have seen Star with an older man the past few months. We all thought it was just some nobody exec or producer (unsurprising; most of these pop girlies are whores) but we got a better look of the silver fox just about a week ago and sources say it's Jack Abbot from NIGHTCRAWLER.
—
Sent via form submission, anonymous.
Subject: Star shared by two older men?
Message: Saw Star out at another after party with two old men, found out it was Robby, frontman for NIGHTCRAWLER, and Jack, the guitarist. She looked super cozy between them. Age gap is weird but I've seen weirder throuples in LA.
✧⋆⋆⋆
Aside from making the front cover of US Weekly about your secret man, more blind items begin to pour in. They haven't been trending but there's enough chatter about your love life that you're being called yet again into another meeting with your PR team.
You're seated in one of the empty conference rooms with Cassie beside you, typing away on her laptop while you roll a pen around on the table. The glass doors swing open slowly and you glance up to see Baran Al-Hashimi, the head of your PR team, enter in a sharp suit and her iPad with Mel, one of the producers and members of your creative team in tow.
"Good morning," Baran greets, each syllable pronounced with such intent that you can't help but stiffen. Shen saunters in with a tray of coffee for everyone while he slurps noisily at his. The two of them are terrifyingly competent. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Everyone scoots their chair in as Baran takes the head of the table where you sit on her left. When she has everyone's attention, she turns her gaze on you.
"You've caused quite a stir," she says lightly. You might've been terrified if it weren't for the fact that she had been the first to look out for you during an almost wardrobe mishap at your first tour. "Since you don't have a dating ban like our other signed artists, no contracts have been broken, yes?" After a collected murmur of assent, she continues on. "In that case, we just need to work together to create a narrative that'll be in our favor."
The projector at the end of the room flicks on and Mel's standing to connect her laptop in as Shen turns off the front lights. A simple presentation takes up the screen.
"Your latest album is a testament to your growth from a young woman to who you are today. The producers and your creative team are in agreement to start adjusting your style to a woman in love," Mel begins as look books of your curated outfits appear. "Your so-called scandal won't be a scandal if we get to spin it into a love story."
Your spine stiffens but you make sure to keep your face neutral. This is exactly what you've been trying to avoid, defining a relationship that Jack may never want to stay in. Mel continues on despite the storm raging in your mind.
"We'll be avoiding any kind of confirmation, the general public will believe what it wants to believe regardless of whatever statement we put out. However, we can play this to our advantage by working in the grey space," she says as she taps to a new slide of multiple grainy photos of you with Jack. To any unknowing gaze, the photos could pass as anybody.
"These photos," you gape as you sit up. "How did these—?"
"We have a contract with some paparazzi. We outbuy anyone before they even think about reaching out to other publications," Baran interrupts. "With our permission, they'll start releasing them in a timely manner to support the narrative you'll be pushing. So now— what is your relation to these men?"
You shift slightly in your seat, visibly uncomfortable, but Cassie nods her head to you with a maternal smile.
"Um— it's just Jack. Jack Abbot," you answer while you relax back in your seat. "The other one is Robby but he just hangs out with us."
Shen releases a low whistle. "Impressive." When multiple sets of eyes glance to him, he gives a careless shrug. "I'm not blind. That man's a silver fox."
Baran allows a tiny smile to tug at the corner of her lips, amused. "We won't be intruding on your relationship any further than allowing you to be seen more in the public eye with him. It'll let everyone talk more about you, create some buzz for the new album."
You blink. "Wait— that's it? We'll just be a bit more public about our… relationship?"
The exec ignores the way you nearly had to spit out the last word. "Yes, that's all. Of course, we do request that you refrain from any more scandalous sightings but anything than that, we encourage it."
"Actually." Cassie politely cuts in. "I thought it'd be interesting if you used the pink limousine photo to be the cover of the EP, have her reclaim that to be a moment of passionate love rather than a careless tryst."
Baran nods in approval, makes a note of it. "I'll let the other creative directors know but I like it. Star, what do you think?"
The idea had initally made you recoil in disgust but Cassie's explanation smooths out the furrow between your brows. "I actually like it, too. Before we release those pap photos, I do want to let Jack know."
"Of course," Baran says. "Let us know of his response by EOD, please."
The sudden deadline is startling but you understand, giving the older woman a nod.
"Perfect. I believe that'll be it for this meeting. If there's anything else you'd like to add later on, email me." With the meeting ending promptly, you sigh as you watch the execs file out while you slump in your chair beside Cassie.
She taps your knee. You loll your head over to gaze at your manager. "You haven't defined anything with Jack, did you?"
You shake your head.
"Mm, alright. Let me know if anything changes."
✧⋆⋆⋆
And nothing really changes. Jack spends the night or you're sleeping over for the weekend on the rare occasion where you aren't being rushed over from one place to the next. Time plays a funny role as you try your best to keep your head above water; water being the metaphorical state of all the rumors that have been piling up about you.
He hadn't turned away from you either when you had asked him if the two of you could go public without confirming anything, just smiled and nodded with an eager glint in his eye.
("Sweetheart, if I ever refuse to kiss you in public where everyone can see you're mine, shoot me because that isn't me.")
You had laughed, told Baran the decision to continue public outings with Jack, and continued the rest of your week without another worry. But your mind ricochets back to that: 'you're mine.' It isn't enough to get Jack to pick up on your swirling thoughts but it's enough that you look distracted most times he comes over.
Because what exactly did he mean? You're his? His what— to own? To fuck? To… love? The thought is chilling — not that you don't have strong feelings for Jack but rather, how readily you seem to be to dive past the edge of the cliff when you aren't even sure he's at the bottom to catch you. And as you stand at the precipice of that metaphorical edge, you know it's a hard landing beneath but at the height of your feelings, the concrete looks like water.
You try to spill these tumultous thoughts as ink onto pages rather than into words. It helps keep the cup from overflowing in your head, lets you keep your head above water when Jack drives you back to his place after he had picked you up from another meeting. Even the monotonous ritual you have of arriving at his front door, jacket and purse set aside on the loveseat upon entrance, and a stolen tangerine in his kitchen to give your hands to do something, is bone chilling; when did you begin to have a routine?
He peels the tangerines for you, feeds you occasionally in comfortable silence, but as you reach for your phone to check what another news outlet has to say, he knows it's time to step in.
Anxiety threatens to creep in but Jack is quick to set your phone aside, distract you with kisses along the back of your neck. When he presses lightly against the small of your back, you bend over without question.
"Let go for me, pretty girl," he coos as he drags your dress up, your cheek pressing against the cool marble counter of his kitchen island. "You did so good today."
You can only offer a pathetic whimper. Each touch from Jack lights a fire within you as sweet nothings fall from his lips. They fall over you like a balm upon your mind as you slowly relax, feeling his ruddy tip glide along your slick folds while he holds your thong aside.
He fucks you slow and deep, his larger body folding over yours as he nips and bites at your neck. Your toes are brushing along the hardwood floors as he holds you up by your waist and keeps you pinned onto the island counter. It isn't brutal or demanding when he coaxes an orgasm out of you although his touch is rough when he pulls your hair back for a searing kiss. Each thrust of his hips is sharp, hits where you need him exactly. It isn't love-making but it feels a hell of a lot like Jack taking care of you.
The thought catapults you into your second climax with him shortly following, plugging you full with his release and a low groan of your name falling from his lips. "Fuck, baby— felt you squeezing me there," he grunts with a few more shallow thrusts until he slowly pulls out. You think that's the end of it but then you hear some rustling behind you, your head tipping back to look over your shoulder— until you feel Jack's tongue dive into your filthy heat with a perverted moan.
"Jack—!"
His chuckles are warm against your sopping cunt as he eats his release out of you, licking you clean while reaching up to hold your hand against the edge of the counter. It's tender enough that a couple of tears slide down your cheeks; you aren't concerned. Jack's fucked you hard enough that he's made you cry before. He doesn't have to know the real reason why your cheeks are tear-stained when he draws out one final orgasm from you.
You exhale, cheek rubbing along the cool marble counter as you catch your breath. A giggle spills past your lips when you feel his stubble grazing along your inner thighs before he showers your ass and cunt with kisses. "Kissing my ass, Daddy?" you tease as you look over your shoulder.
He smacks your ass. "Of course I am. You're my favorite peach."
"Ew, gross—" you giggle as you playfully push his head away. You turn around to lean your back against the counter as he gets to his feet. His hands settle on either side of you, trapping you against the island as he lowers his head for another kiss. It's slow and lazy, stirring something sweet and satisfying in your chest. "Thanks, Jack."
He nudges the tip of his nose against yours. "Anytime, superstar. You looked a little lost in your head there."
You aren't sure how to feel about that, Jack utilizing your pleasure as a distraction but you can't find a reason to be upset over it. "Thanks," you say instead, genuinely. You lean in for another short kiss before he nips at your lower lip.
"You taste like tangerines," he chuckles at your questioning look. "Tastes good."
You roll your eyes but your smile is unmistakable, playfully pushing his shoulder. "Perv. Go shower, old man."
"Join me?"
And who are you to refuse?
✧⋆⋆⋆
GQ: JACK AND ROBBY FROM NIGHTCRAWLER BREAK DOWN THEIR FAMOUS DISCOGRAPHY.
The two men sit at a table looking right at home in front of the camera despite their ten year absence from the public eye. Jack and Robby fidget as they reattach the small mics to the collar of their shirts.
"No more fuzzy mics?" Robby jokes as the camera starts to roll. Behind the camera, the producer prompts them to begin. "Hi, GQ, we're Nightcrawler, and we're here to talk about our past discography."
The cue cards begin and whenever a new song gets lifted, the two men shift easily and move on. "Ghost Of You did a lot better than I expected. Looks like Iris is still the more popular one," Jack chuckles as he hits play on the laptop that's sitting between them. A snippet of the chorus plays as the coordinator behind the camera flips to a new cue card.
"Oh, that's an oldie. High might've been one of our more popular softer songs," Robby reminisces as his higher vocals fill the room. "I remember being worried that we were gonna alienate our main demographics."
"You were a pretty boy back then, Robinavitch—" Jack snorts as he sends his friend a wry grin. "You could've screamed into a mic and the girls swooned."
"You sound jealous, Abbot."
"Course I am, you're still a pretty boy!"
"Oh, fuck off—"
✧⋆⋆⋆
TWITTER—
Pop Base @.PopBase — 2m
STAR drops single 'stupid song' — listen now on Spotify and Apple Music!
✧⋆⋆⋆
After you and Jack agreed to stop hiding the relationship (situationship, Trinity's voice would ring in your ear), you both also agreed to not just simply hard launch it to the world. Ease it in. Maybe both of you could step out of the car at the same time rather than waiting five minutes in between.
Despite the plans to stop hiding, you and Jack are suddenly rocked with packed schedules and endless interviews and fittings. He barely has time to come over now and your texts are few and little in between. But without Jack present to distract your thoughts, you're on twitter more often than you'd like to admit.
✧⋆⋆⋆
@enam3l : oh so she's IN LOVE !!!
@deathreverse : IS THE NEW EP ABOUT HER FALLING IN LOVE???
@pearlessance : the last time she wrote about love was about b*z yall, idk if this is gonna be happy…..
@mariasont : [ screenshot of lyrics from stupid song— I feel right, I feel wrong, I feel totally insane. And I want you more than any stupid song can ever say. ] SHE'S DOWN BAAAAD…. pour one out for a baddie lost to another man.
@.user01 : if the rumors are true, the man in question is jack and i, too, would pour out my lil heart for him. have you seen him???
@.user1: you can tell she got inspired by some dad rock vibes with the demos she's been singing on her livestreams
@.user2: speaking of dad rock, i've been listening to NIGHTCRAWLER's older albums…. ok white boys get itttt
@.user3: went through the credits for nightcrawler's songs, robby's obviously the manwhore between the two but jfc his ballads are so fucking good too
✧⋆⋆⋆
The light of your phone illuminates your face, eyes wide as you adjust the sheet mask you've just placed on. Your neck is aching from how you're laid out on Jack's bed, head propped up a little too high by his pillows, as you doomscroll. The attached bathroom door opens but you don't pay Jack any mind — not even his shirtless state can steal you away from the downspiral that's starting when you see your ex's name pop up just as often as Jack's.
"Darling, you'll ruin your eyes like that," Jack huffs as he sits on his side of the bed, sets his crutches aside while you scroll like you didn't hear him. "Baby?"
You startle slightly, big eyes peeking above the top of your phone. "Yeah?"
"What's got you stressing?" The bed dips and rocks slightly as Jack scoots close enough for his arm to wrap around your frame while you rest your head on his chest. You bring the phone up to show the comments and he tugs on his glasses.
He hums as he scrolls, absentmindedly playing with your hair. "They seem to like it, superstar, I wouldn't worry," he says. He locks your phone and sets it aside. "C'mon, you need the sleep."
You might've gotten annoyed with Jack then, how he takes the reins from you without expecting any refusal, but exhaustion has been weighing down your bones all week and you find yourself nodding. "Let me take off the sheet mask," you hum as you playfully crawl over his body, laughing as he sneaks a squeeze to your ass, and climb off the bed. You complete the rest of your skincare in the bathroom before joining him in the sheets.
The lights shut off and you close your eyes, finding comfort in his embrace before you realize you are annoyed — he didn't give your song a second glance.
✧⋆⋆⋆
Your annoyance didn't last past the night.
Jack wakes you sweetly and lazily, stroking your cheek and jaw until your eyelashes flutter. When your eyes meet his, he leans in for a tender kiss that has your toes curling beneath the sheets. It's a rare thursday where both of you have a free morning, let alone a whole day. Although you figure it's best to start being seen with Jack more, the domesticity that follows whenever the two of you are home is addicting. Sticky sweet kisses are shared when he juices fresh oranges for you, laughter echoing throughout his kitchen as you play some cheesy pop song from the 2000s.
The two of you are lost in your honeymoon-esque bliss in the kitchen that neither you or Jack hear the front door open and shut for Robby to enter the scene.
"Am I interrupting?" He chuckles over the sight of you, wearing nothing but Jack's shirt and a lacy pair of underwear, and his best friend still in just his flannel pajama pants. Robby himself looks like he's already lived through half the day, leather jacket and windswept hair.
You nearly shriek at the sudden new presence of another man only to relax, half-hiding behind Jack who just tugs you forward front and center. "Jesus, Robby," Jack laughs. "That key was for emergencies."
"It's an emergency— I'm hungry." Robby grins as he sets his helmet and bag down to hop onto the bar stool tucked against one side of the kitchen island. The two of you share a smile before Jack circles the space to continue flipping the pancakes while you putter around to make coffee.
"How do you take your coffee, Robby?" you ask as you bring out an extra mug, head tilting slightly over your shoulder to meet the other man's eyes.
"Just black, sweetheart."
You hum in acknowledgment and turn back around, measuring out the ground coffee beans to pour into the filter. Behind your back, Jack sends a curious look to his friend who busies himself on his phone before letting it go. Something splinters in his chest, a dull ache he could ignore if he tries hard enough, when he watches you set the steaming mug by Robby who thanks you with a careless smile.
To your credit, you don't react any differently from what Jack could see. You just pour him a mug, add just the right of cream and sugar before attaching yourself to his side and placing the coffee right where he can reach it. He turns the stove off and moves the pan to the cooler side so he can bend down and kiss your hair.
"Thanks, gorgeous."
You grin and tilt your head up, lips pursed adorably that he plants one kiss there and another on your nose. The two of you miss the way Robby keeps his eyes pointedly on his phone. The plates are set and the three of you eat in comfortable silence, occasionally pockmarked with small talk between Jack and Robby.
"So, what are your plans today?" Robby asks as he leans back, one arm crossed and the other holding his mug.
Jack mimics his movement, leaning back to drape an arm on the back of your chair as you continue to sip at Jack's coffee. "Some shopping in Rodeo before dinner—"
You pat his chest to interrupt him, your eyes locked on your phone. "We need to stop at the recording studio, Jack, I left a couple of notebooks in the booth."
Jack nods, doesn't miss a beat. "Shopping, recording studio, and then dinner."
"Mind if I tag along on your shopping trip? I got a few things to pick up at Van Cleef."
"That works out perfectly! I have a couple pieces I want to get refitted," you perk up, detaching yourself momentarily to lean in and turn your full attention to Robby. Your smile is blinding and it takes almost half a second for either of them to respond.
"I can meet you two there. I have a couple things to drop off, but before I forget—" Robby sends you a smile warmer than you've ever received from him, getting to his feet while he grabs his helmet. "I listened to 'stupid song'. It's pretty good but I gotta ask— this old man got you this lovesick?"
Your cheeks burn, a shy smile following before you attempt to play coy. "Hey—! Technically, I never confirm who my songs are about." The playful eye roll Robby gives you has you giggling, making you miss Jack's approach who comes around to tug you firmly into his side.
"Alright. See you two later."
✧⋆⋆⋆
"I'm stealing a shirt!"
Jack's resounding chuckle from outside of his walk-in closet is answer enough for you and you happily dig into his drawer. You lift your foot up to casually scratch at your opposite calf as you rummage through his clothes, wandering to the opposite side to pick out a long-sleeved button up that you cinch and style with some shorts you had left behind a few days ago.
You aren't sure when Jack started keeping duplicates of your makeup in his bathroom but you never did ask and he never talked about it. You ignore the way your stomach flutters when you lean over the sink, applying eyeliner and mascara.
A knock sounds behind you and you offer with a noncommital hum. In the reflection, Jack leans against the doorway, already dressed and his leg on.
"Almost done, baby?"
You cap the mascara and when you reach for the lip gloss, Jack crosses the distance to gently cradle your cheeks for a kiss. "Jack—" you giggle against his mouth but he shushes you sweetly.
"Let me get my kisses in before you put your lip gloss on, superstar," he chuckles. When he feels you've been thoroughly kissed, he leaves you be and starts to head out. "I'll get the car running."
You sigh dreamily, lovesick as you finally apply your lipgloss.
✧⋆⋆⋆
Jack hasn't let go of your hand since he's parked his ostentatious G-Wagon. The two of you aren't overtly dressed either and with sunglasses on, you and Jack blend well with the rest of the pedestrians that graze along the cobbled stonewalk of Rodeo Drive. Despite that no one's stopped you or Jack for photos or autographs, you aren't naive enough to believe that no one is watching you either.
With Robby on his way, the two of you head into Van Cleef & Arpels and the low lighting is a welcomed reprieve from the Los Angeles sun. The sales associate recognizes you almost immediately before a look of delight leaves their features as quickly as it comes when they see Jack right behind you.
"Welcome, ma'am. Your client advisor is ready to see you now," the pristinely dressed woman says, her tone clipped and professional, yet you catch the bright shimmer in her eyes as the two of you thank her and enter a private show room.
Your shoes are silent against the dark hardwood flooring, your bangles clinking delicately together as you swing your joined hands with Jack as you approach.
"Thank you for coming in. I'm Noelle, how may I assist you today?"
Noelle guides you and Jack towards the leather-wrapped high-top tables. He helps you onto the stool before sitting himself beside you while Noelle circles and opens her gloved hands in gentle accommodation.
"I'm here to get this re-fitted actually," you offer your wrist to her and two bracelets clink together. The one in question had been the Lucky Alhambra bracelet with four motifs and it dangles prettily besides the delicate gold bangle from the Perlée clovers line; you had fallen in love with the bangle immediately and Jack had purchased it for you without a second word.
That had been from your fourth date.
"Oh, such a beautiful piece. May I?" When you nod, she deftly unclasps the chained bracelet before laying it out carefully upon the leather surface to inspect. Jack's arm reaches out casually to rest on the back of your chair and you fight back a shiver when you feel his touch, absentmindedly stroking your spine as he listens to Noelle. You offer your wrist again at her prompting, allowing her to measure out the desired fit before she places it in a spare box with the marked length. Right as she's finishing up, footsteps echo behind you and you look over to see Robby approach.
He cuts an imposing figure, all rough strewn edges in his old band shirt and well-worn Levi's in the boutique. When he stands behind you and Jack, you can catch a whiff of his cologne and a hint of cigarette smoke.
"Mr. Robinavitch," Noelle greets warmly as she hands off your box to another employee. "We have your pieces ready, please feel free to browse while we bring it out for you from the back."
"Please, take your time," he replies with a nod of his head. When it's just the three of you, he looks at you and Jack. "You two heading out then?"
Jack rubs your shoulder. "Depends, did you want to browse too, baby?"
You nod. There was a bracelet that had caught your eye and you're eager to take the time to try it on yourself. Jack helps you down and you loosely take hold of his hand, leading him over to the other show room where the Sweet Hearts bracelet is displayed. It's a dainty rose gold chain with a single carnellian heart motif.
Another client advisor approaches and offers it for you to try on which you gladly accept. The two men watch fondly as you gasp softly at the simplistic beauty of the bracelet. Right as they unclasp the bracelet, your phone rings and you reluctantly step away to answer a phone call from your manager, Cassie.
Once you're out of earshot, Robby turns to the employee. "I'll take it."
Jack glances up in mild surprise. "You got a girl or something?"
Robby's pulling out his wallet with a little chuckle. "No, but you have her and she looked too happy to not get it." He waits for some pushback from his friend; Robby's no stranger to Jack's bouts of possessiveness, having seen enough of it with Iris all those years ago. But Jack just nods. Silent permission.
"Sure. Call it an early birthday gift or somethin'," he allows as the employee walks off to wrap up the bracelet for you. Robby nods as he merely hands over his black credit card without a second to spare, just in time for you to return. "Is everything okay?"
You dip your head with a reassuring smile, tucking yourself back into Jack's side. "Yeah, it was just to confirm our ballgame tickets."
Robby perks up. "You two are going to a game?"
"Eh, it's just a Dodgers game—"
The smack that lands on his chest elicits a playful laugh from Jack, something he anticipates whenever he pokes fun at your local team that you'd defend without hesitation. As native Pittsburgh Pirates fans, both Jack and Robby never fail to tease you about it whenever their team is in town for a game.
"You two have been Angelenos for more than a decade, you better act like it," you wag your finger at them in mock disappointment, a giggle escaping at Robby's exaggerated contrite expression while Jack apologizes with a tight backhug and a kiss to the nape of your neck.
Noelle returns with Robby's items and a new box for you and your eyes widen slightly. "Is this the Sweet Hearts bracelet? Oh, I haven't—"
"I got it for you," Robby interrupts with a little shrug. "Consider it an early birthday gift."
You take the box and thank Noelle for her service, confirming the pick up time for your other bracelet. When she exits, you untangle yourself from Jack to lean up and kiss the other man's cheek. "Thanks, Michael."
Something flashes in his eyes that you miss entirely but Jack does not. His chest feels hollow but it isn't unpleasant, rather it feels like he's waiting for that anvil to drop in his chest whenever you give anyone else a modicum of attention but nothing arrives.
"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Robby exits first, holds the door open for you to step out first just as Jack follows behind. With the signature green box in hand (just as iconic as Tiffany blue in your opinion), you place a hand on Robby's shoulder with another sweet smile of thanks just as Jack leads you out on the sidewalk. The two men give each other a brief hug goodbye before Robby departs in the opposite direction, helmet in hand and his other pieces he'd picked up.
✧⋆⋆⋆
Across the street in a heavily tinted van, a photographer captures a series of photos. Despite the glaring sun, he manages to adjust the aperture to take a still shot of Robby opening the door for you with the gift in hand. Even though Jack can be partially seen right behind you, the man crops it just enough to send it to one tabloid company.
In the next photo, you've got a hand on Robby's chest with Jack right behind. He keeps this one as is and sends it to another tabloid magazine. Within minutes, he receives two hefty checks from two different publications to put out two different stories. He sets his camera down, starts the van, and drives off without a second glance.
✧⋆⋆⋆
The drive to the recording company you signed to is short and you're grateful that there's basement parking, giving you another reprieve from any kind of wandering camera. You aren't sure if your eyes had been playing tricks on you back at Van Cleef, catching a glimpse of a camera pressed against a tinted window of a van. Regardless, you figure it's what you and Jack wanted anyways, fueling the rumors of your dating life without confirming a goddamn thing.
"Hey, Ahmad," you greet the security guard by the main entrace, a lanky man that seems to always be preoccupied with the hidden betting pool he's got below the receptionist's desk. Princess greets you with a sweet smile, nudging you past the doors and into the main floor. She eyes Jack with a knowing grin towards Ahmad who promptly pulls out the sheet on her desk, scrawling down something new. You snort to yourself, your fingers tangled with Jack as you pull him over to the elevators inside.
You hit the button to your usual floor and you're met with a long hallway that sprawls out to your left and right, pockmarked with soundproof doors. "Left are the dance studios," you mention casually to Jack. "Rehearsal spaces and whatnot. They're generally multi-purpose rooms. Rooms to the right are the recording studios and booths."
After passing the entire hall, you stop at the final door at the end. Unlike the producers' private studios that have an attached padlock with a code, yours is unofficially assigned. Everyone aside from your team knows to steer cleer of it, to always keep it available to you. You aren't expecting anyone inside so you nearly startle when you step in to see a familiar figure behind a piano, jotting down chords.
"Christopher?" You beam, releasing Jack's hand to approach the man who stands from the bench to draw you in for a tight hug. His strong arms wind around your waist, eliciting a loud laugh when he lifts you. "What are you doing here? I thought you left!"
"My new space is still being renovated but Gloria let me in to work in here for old times' sake," he answers, his subtle Australian accent throwing Jack for a spin as he finally recognizes the younger man that's still got you in his arms. He looks up to see Jack and with his arm still around your shoulders, he reaches out to shake his hand. "Hi, I'm Christopher. I used to be Star's main producer."
✧⋆⋆⋆
(ONE YEAR AGO) —
US WEEKLY: IS LOVE IN THE AIR?
JUST WEEKS AFTER HER SPLIT WITH BAZ, THE DIRECTOR OF HER MUSIC VIDEO SERIES, STAR WAS SEEN COZYING UP TO Christopher B, THE MAIN PRODUCER OF HER LAST ALBUM 'SPILLED', AT SANTA MONICA PIER. HAS STAR FOUND SOMEONE NEW AFTER HER TUMULTUOUS AND MESSY BREAKUP?
Star and Christopher had been electric in the studio booth, creating hit after hit that ultimately led to her first Grammy win. In her social media posts, the two have not been shy about their friendship. Fans had taken to twitter and deuxmoi, inputting their own theories of the true nature of their relationship. They've always denied it, especially when Star and Barry "Baz" Blackwell had confirmed their dating status. But now that the couple has split, the world is convinced that Star and Christopher are meant to be.
They'd make a power couple in the music industry. With Star's vocals and enchanting lyrics and Christopher' creative beats and addicting melodies, they would take the world by storm.
Read more about Christopher and his accolades below...
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The grainy photo of you and Christopher had been the most talked about rumor for months that it even entered Jack and Robby's circle of friends. Older musicians that's taken a well-deserved break from the limelight who wouldn't even know how to peruse the rumor mill of today's age of artists and celebrities. He remembered seeing you in that photo, tragically beautiful that even the camera had captured your glassy tear-stained eyes and pouty lips while your head rests on Christopher' broad shoulder while sitting at a high-top counter of a balcony in a restaurant.
This had been before he met you six months later at that bar in West Hollywood, looking all the more frustrated at that notebook you've never been away from until now.
"I'm Jack," he replies and a vindictive, petty part of him enjoys the fact that he's a bit taller than Christopher. And older, a sabotaging voice in his head reminds him. That opens the floodgates in his mind now as he starts to tally up the differences between him and Christopher while you (fortunately) detach yourself from both of them to search for your beloved notebook.
He's taller but Christopher has broader shoulders.
Jack's arms are bigger but Christopher' defined muscles are evident even through the shirt he's got on.
The tallying ends there when you return to his side, your touch anchoring him to the present when your hand curls delicately around his forearm. "I got it," you wave the notebook in your free hand before you're smiling at Christopher again. "Feel free to use this space as long as you need to. Just because you quit doesn't mean you aren't welcome."
Christopher's smile is bright when he nods, gives you another parting kiss to your cheek before giving Jack a genuine pat on the shoulder. No bad blood there and it makes Jack's stomach twist at his own immaturity.
"Nice meeting you," he says instead to make up for his own petty thoughts. The smile you give him is reward enough and he's all too eager to gently tug you to the door. "Good luck with what you're working on."
"Thanks. You two have fun," he says with a little knowing grin to which your cheeks burn.
When you two exit, you get sidetracked when you bump into another fellow artist, leaving his side momentarily to catch up with her as he waits patiently in one of the plush seats. His thumb hovers over the screen as he pulls up your instagram profile, momentarily admiring you before he gives in to sick curiosity and scrolls down. Down, down, down.
Until he stops at the handful of photos of Christopher.
These are old, way back to when the two of you had begun working together for your debut album, but the familiarity between you two makes jealousy twist and writhe in his stomach. That poison pushes him to keep scrolling, hates the way his chest tightens at seeing you with a man your age.
"Jack?"
He lifts his head and almost drops his phone when you approach, standing between his knees that he has to set the gadget down to lightly hold the back of your thighs. "Yeah, sweetheart?"
Your nails scratch along his scalp with a lazy hum, admiring his soft silver curls. "I'm ready to go now. Sorry for stopping so much."
A low chuckle escapes him and the irate jealousy that had been simmering dissipates completely beneath your touch. "You're fine, superstar. You want to stop somewhere to eat before we head home?" He kisses your stomach, sets his chin right above your belly button to smile up at you.
"Can we just stop at in n out?" You ask sweetly, nails scratching along his jaw before bending down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss.
"Mm, sure, baby—" he murmurs against your mouth, realizing that this may be the first kiss you've shared in public when the sun's still up. You must've had the same realization because you let out a quiet squeak, pulling away to hide your face into the top of his hair. He chuckles and lightly pats your ass before he gets to his feet. "Come on. Time to feed my girl."
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TMZ — BREAKING NEWS: GREEDY STAR.
NOT ONLY HAS STAR BEEN SEEN WITH JACK ABBOT OUT ON THE STREETS OF LOS ANGELES, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE SHE'S GOT CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF A LOVE TRIANGLE? A SOURCE HAS SENT IN THE PHOTO BELOW OF STAR STEPPING OUT OF A JEWELRY STORE WITH A GIFT IN HAND WITH NO JACK IN SIGHT.
—
US WEEKLY — THREE… ISN'T A CROWD?
STAR WAS SEEN TODAY AT RODEO DRIVE WITH NOT ONE INFAMOUS MUSICIAN… BUT TWO. SHE WAS EXITING VAN CLEEF AT RODEO DRIVE WITH JACK AND ROBBY IN TOW, HOLDING A JEWELRY BOX. LUCKY GIRL!
Anonymous_User01 : can yall PLEASE get a grip??? robby and star are friends, she's obviously dating jack—
Anonymous_User02 replied : that old man is yearning, look at how he looks at her???
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Baran isn't the most pleased when she sees that your first public outing had included Robby, confusing the masses at who exactly you were dating. Although the slut-shaming and the all-around disparaging theories about who you spread your legs for had diminished, the confusion isn't exactly aiding the story she had been pushing for you to tell. To remedy this, you tell her that Jack had acquired a heavily-sought after reservation at a two-Michelin star restaurant in Chicago. A perfect date that fits cleanly with some of your other interview or travel plans that are in the city, Jack tags along.
The photos of you two at LAX go viral, too. With both of you half-attempting to maintain anonymity, many still recognize his silver curls peeking out from under a baseball cap and your smile whenever he lowers his head to press a kiss to the top of your hair. Although you've been taught to make sure to be polite without stopping for autographs in case it'll incite crowding and mobbing, Jack hovers when you drop down to one knee when a little girl and her mother approaches for an autograph in the boarding lobby.
You scrawl your autograph onto the napkin the child brought you. "What's your name, sweetheart?" She whispers it to you, her little hands wringing together shyly behind her back. Your heart bleeds with affection. "Angelica? Oh, that's a pretty name!" You add in her name with a heart before handing the napkin back.
"Thank you," she gasps. Shyness flees her body because she tackles you in a hug, nearly toppling you backwards as your hand comes up to pat her back with a soft laugh. Above you, Jack watches fondly, almost sets his hand out to catch you in case the girl does push you over in her excitement. The two of you share a bit of small talk before her mom calls her over and you smile, allowing Jack to help you to your feet as the little girl reluctantly walks back with a giddy wave.
When it's just you two, you glance to see Jack give you a look you can't decipher. "What?" You ask with a soft laugh, feeling a tad bit self conscious. He gives a shake of his head, draws you in by your shoulders to kiss the crown of your head.
"Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all."
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Boarding goes smoothly, the flight is uneventful. But landing is a whole other obstacle when it seems someone might've leaked your flight to the local paparazzi of Chicago. You silently thank Cassie for her quick thinking of calling up a security detail that meets you upon landing, creating a tight perimeter for you and Jack until you make it to the car.
The shouts and bright flashing of the camera is avoidable, due to your sunglasses but mainly because of Jack keeping you close. He doesn't let you go until you make it into the car, carefully helped in before he follows behind you.
"Fucking animals," he growls as he slams the door shut, the bright camera flashes dimmed to a low light with how heavy the tint is in the car. You shake your head.
"It's fine, Jack—"
"No, it's not. Do you deal with this every time you travel?"
The question takes you aback; does Jack… not deal with paparazzi? He's one of the biggest names in music, probably always will be. You blink at him a couple times. "Not… to this extent. It's why Cassie makes sure I have security detail wherever I go. Sorry, do you not—"
"In the beginning, yeah. Honestly, Robby and I basked in it but if we told them to back off, they did… baby, you could've gotten hurt."
You give a shrug, unaware that your carelessness to this seemingly common situation is driving Jack up the wall. "Maybe, but I'm fine. I'm more surprised that you don't get mobbed like this. My boundaries are basically nonexistent to the paps."
The truth is, you know why you get hounded more than Jack— or rather, why young women in the industry gets talked over, ignored, mocked whenever they make attempts at maintaining a line or a boundary against paparazzi or the media while men are obeyed without question. But it's a never ending argument and it isn't something you have the bandwidth to discuss after still seeing spots in your vision from all the camera flashes.
"That's not fair," he says anyways as the car continues to drive down the highways. "I know I haven't been present in the public eye since we took that hiatus, but…"
You two sit in silence for a few more minutes and you figure that may be the end of the conversation but he squeezes your hand. He's taken to holding your hand in car rides like these ever since you've been given the go-ahead to make this public.
"I remember Iris once mentioned that the paparazzi were vultures," he says quietly. "By then, we were inseparable and I never got to see that side of it all since I never really let her out of my sight when we were in public like that."
"How could you know? The world's always a little kinder to men, Jack." And there isn't any malice there, nor any trace of resentment, but a sad acceptance as he gives your hand another squeeze. He's spoken about Iris before; you've always revered their relationship, never shied away about the topic of her and only avoided it in the early part of your trysts with Jack to spare his feelings. When he realized you aren't running every time he brings up his late wife, he had felt more comfortable bringing her up with you from that point on.
He grunts in obvious discontent but the conversation ends there when the car stops at the curb of the hotel you two are staying at. There isn't any paparazzi this time around and that relieves the both of you. At least no one knows where you two are staying.
Checking in and your luggage being brought up for you goes smoothly and with the entire day finally settling in, all you're searching for is a hot shower and a warm bed.
But that all goes out the window when his hands find your waist, creeping up your shirt to grope your tits above your bra.
"Jack," you hum but his lips are already on you the moment the door shuts. "Jack— I smell like plane! Let me freshen up." You giggle as he retaliates with a playful groan and a bite to your neck. The older musician sighs dramatically as he releases you to place the 'do not disturb' placard on the outside before he locks it. Meanwhile, you casually strip, leaving a trail of your clothing that leads to the bathroom which you promptly shut.
He's shameless when he leans against the door, knocking lightly. "Baby, don't tease."
Through the door, you can hear how wrecked he is but you bite back a giggle, prancing barefoot to the shower to start up the hot water while making sure the shower chair you requested is in. When the water's hot and ready, you unlock the door and you know you have seconds until Jack is on you.
You're barely opening the shower door when he enters, gently pulling you in and crowding you against the glass to devour you with a searing kiss. His hand finds your wrists, holds them in one grip before lifting it above your head. "Mm, baby… what am I gonna do with you?" He murmurs against your mouth, kissing along your jaw as his free hand explores your chest. Your back arches off the glass, chasing his touch.
"Touch me," you whine and he indulges immediately, kissing you down your neck and collarbone. Your moans flood the bathroom and Jack doesn't hesitate to latch his lips around a pert nipple, tongue lashing against the hard nub while his middle and ring finger strokes your folds. You lift a leg up to take him deeper and soon you're writhing, your lust for Jack always taking him off guard. It's the worst time to be overthinking things, wondering what exactly you see in a washed up old man like him when he's two knuckles deep inside and playing you like an instrument.
"Daddy—!"
The title rocks him out of his haze and his gaze pierces yours, releasing your wrists to cradle your jaw instead. "Yeah? Am I taking too long, baby?" That patronizing, condescending tone… it has you fucking dripping. You can only offer a tiny whimper which he responds with a mean chuckle, his hand lazily pumping his fingers that drags against your walls. Not enough friction.
"God, yesyesyes— please, I need you—"
And to his credit, Jack gives you exactly what you need. He swallows your desperate moans when he removes his fingers to gently push you down to your knees. You've done this before, you know what he needs— you help remove his prosthesis and despite that carnal lust that's rushing through your veins, it's something intimate that he doesn't dare put a name to.
In the rush of the waterfall shower, he's settled into his chair and you're eagerly climbing onto his lap. It's a tad awkward, reaching between to guide his stiffening length into your dripping cunt, but once he's sheathed inside you, you ride him without wasting a second.
It reminds him of that phrase you've muttered the first time he took you to bed, when your age gap had been a slight weight on his conscience: old enough to know what I'm doing, you promised, but young enough to do it well.
His hand travels up your skin slick from the spray of the water, warm and heated beneath his touch. The way his fingers splay out is possessive and your neck bares instinctively. With an indulgent pass across your tits, his hand presses around your neck in the correct positioning, safely squeezing while your eyes roll back in bliss.
"That's it, pretty girl… take what you need," he croons as he tugs you down to kiss along your gasping mouth, smirking against your wet skin when he feels your walls convulse around his cock. "Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Come on, baby…"
He continues to utter sweet nothings against your mouth as you fall apart on his cock, his own orgasm following after that he doesn't hesitate to finish inside you. As you slump against his chest, he holds you close with a throaty chuckle, his rough hands stroking up and down your spine.
"I got you, sweetheart. I got you."
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Even when high-profile guests have been to The Bear before, you and Jack still garner looks when you two are dropped off by the driver. He steps out first, looking dashing in slacks and a tight button-up that you haven't really been able to keep your hands off of. Your hand slips into his as he helps you out, shielding the way your black cocktail dress rides up as your heels land on the sidewalk. A couple of flashes appear from your peripheral view but you don't shy away from it, just smiling as Jack steps slightly in front of you to give you room to adjust your neckline and hemline.
"Thanks," you hum and he nods, straightening out his shirt before he's offering his arm to you. Your hand slides into the crook of his elbow while holding your clutch against your thigh. A few fans call out your name and you turn instinctively, giving a shy wave before you're entering the restaurant.
The soft ambience of the establishment soothes your raw nerves and with the small party of three in front of you, it lets you gather yourself and pull on the persona of a famous person and not a slightly harried woman in her twenties. There's a subdued hum of conversation from all the other guests already seated, a few shouts and calls from the kitchen whenever the door swings open each time a waiter walks in and out.
"Ah, Mr. Abbot and Miss Star," the maitre d' greets with a personable smile. Despite his sharp suit, his scruffy beard and his bright smile is warm and genuine. "Welcome to The Bear, my name's Richie. You're the, uh… seven o'clock, yes?"
Jack confirms with a nod, dropping your arm so he can wrap his around your waist. "That's right. Are we late?"
"No, no. Right on time, actually—" Richie looks over his shoulder, gives the space a quick scan. You aren't sure what he sees but he must've seen something correct because he taps something on the screen and steps from the podium. "Perfect. If you two will follow me?"
You nod and walk alongside Jack, ignoring the way a few looks follow you both as Richie leads you two to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant for some privacy. It's intimate, illuminated with a candle in the center.
"Gary will be around shortly with drinks."
The evening continues on without a hitch and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the date with Jack. You try not to think about the fact that this is even happening because of your team's approval, to push a narrative that's meant to promote your upcoming EP. But then you backtrack your own thoughts because it isn't like you're dragging Jack to this restaurant; he likes hanging out with you, enjoys your presence outside of the bedroom… and yet uncertainty poisons your mind as you take another sip of your wine.
"Hey."
Jack reaches across the table to take your hand, running his thumb across your soft skin. Your lashes flutter as you lift your gaze from the tablecloth to him. "Yeah?"
"You alright? You look a little bit lost in your head there…" His crows' feet deepen slightly as he offers you a little smile, his voice soft as though there isn't an audience to perform for. You let yourself have this much at least, this only certainty in the gray space you've found yourself in with Jack.
"Yeah— yeah, I'm okay," you assure him with a smile of your own, lacing your fingers with his. He nods and lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles before his attention snags onto the sweet hearts bracelet dangling off your wrist.
He admires it for a moment. "Robby got good taste."
It feels like a test but you answer as honestly as you can. "It's a red heart bracelet that cost him a thousand dollars. It's an easy choice."
Jack chuckles, mildly pleased and yet a bit unsure as to why jealousy hasn't creeped in yet.
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PEOPLE MAGAZINE — SPOTTED! JACK ABBOT AND STAR COZYING IT UP AT A CANDLELIT DINNER AT MICHELIN STAR RESTAURANT.
STAR SHOWS HER TRUE COLORS AS A CONNOISSEUR FOR FINE DINING WHEN FANS SPOT HER WITH OLDER BEAU, JACK ABBOT, AT THE BEAR IN CHICAGO FOR A ROMANTIC DINNER. MANY WONDER IF FAME HAS CHANGED HER. HOW DID OUR SWEET NATION'S POPSTAR GO FROM IN N OUT COMFORT FOOD TO A MEAL THAT COULD'VE FED HUNDREDS?
IT LOOKS LIKE FAME GOT TO HER IN THE END. EAT THE RICH, RIGHT FOLKS?
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PAGE SIX — JACK ABBOT AND STAR, CONFIRMED?
A SOURCE SHARES THEIR OWN EXPERIENCE MEETING THE COUPLE AT THE BEAR. THEY LOOK 'SORDIDLY IN LOVE' DESPITE NOT RELEASING A CONFIRMING STATEMENT OF THE STATUS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP.
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TMZ — IS STAR THE NEW IRIS? SEE JACK ABBOT'S DATING HISTORY.
THE TWO WERE SPOTTED AT A ROMANTIC CANDLELIT DINNER IN CHICAGO, SHARING BITES OF DESSERTS AND SUBTLE KISSES.
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THE CUT — DOES STAR HAVE A THING FOR OLDER MEN?
IT LOOKS LIKE JACK ABBOT AND STAR HAVE NO PLANS ON CONCEALING THEIR BUDDING RELATIONSHIP WHEN THEY WERE SEEN AT A RESTAURANT THIS PAST WEEKEND. LOOKING BACK UPON HER LAST RELATIONSHIP WITH BARRY 'BAZ' BLACKWELL, ANOTHER OLDER MAN, MANY SOURCES WONDER IF THIS IS JUST A PATTERN.
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After getting back to Los Angeles a few days later, the two of you are thrust back into your work. Jack and Robby nearly lock themselves in their studio for peak brainstorming sessions while you finish up the dance routines and blocking for your headlining performance at a music festival that's coming up soon.
The packed schedules keep you from seeing Jack but that doesn't stop the news articles and online publications from posting their own hot takes of you two from your date in Chicago. Some of them make you wrinkle your nose at the gigantic leaps but the others just have you skimming past the empty prose, vainly zooming in on the photos taken of you and Jack.
The two of you look good together at least. When a certain name jumps out at you from the screen, you decide to lock your phone and throw yourself back into songwriting.
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Across the city, Robby's sprawled out on the length of the leather couch as Jack hunches over his guitar, grumbling under his breath while re-tuning it again. It's a testament to the years they've worked together that Robby knows better than to interrupt.
Except he comes across a recent article that has him sitting up.
"She dated Barry 'Baz' Blackwell?" Robby blurts out.
Jack frowns as his fingers still against the chords. "The… music video director?"
Robby nods, taps a few things on his screen before handing it over. Jack takes it and he's met with an old article, dated from before he's even met you. It must be early in the relationship, you and Baz. It's a photo of you in the street, dressed down and looking completely at ease while you're hand in hand with the director. It's old, your hair is different here, and yet a wave of jealousy that detonates in Jack's chest nearly has him tossing Robby's phone aside.
Instead he scrolls on, finds another article posted a few months after the last one he went through. This time his chest tightens in heartache. The article has a few blown up photos of you, captured through the glass of a cafe where you've been crying, sweater paws covering your eyes while your lips are down-turned in the way he's seen before when you try to hold back tears.
It's the public breakup, the one that had pushed you to finish the album that had won you your first Grammy.
He doesn't even get through the article before he looks up at Robby, hands his phone back. "Why'd you bring him up?"
His friend pauses and the hesitance there has Jack on edge. "It's fuckin' stupid, you know this—"
"Robby."
"The magazines are making her look like she just goes after older men."
His breath leaves him in a quiet rush. "Jesus."
"Yeah. It's just a stupid article. Don't think about it too much." Jack nods and Robby turns back to his phone but his gaze is elsewhere, his thumb hovering above the screen. "Have you two made it official?"
Jack strums harshly. "Not really our priority right now. Haven't seen her since we landed from Chicago."
"Got it." The abrupt ending nearly topples Jack's concentration, wonders why his best friend won't push the way he usually does, but when he looks up from his guitar, Robby's scrawling away lyrics in his notebook.
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"Missed you."
You look up at Jack as he guides you through the crowded floors of the baseball stadium to your field level seats. The simple two words set off a round of butterflies in your gut and you don't bother hiding your smile. With a ballcap on, you tilt your head up a little higher to meet his eyes.
"Missed you more," you reply as he lets you step down the stairs first until you stop at the row right above the dugout. He pinches your hip lightly, eliciting a sharp squeak from you.
"I doubt it, sweetheart," he chuckles as the two of you take your seats. It's an impressive viewpoint, just a few seats away from behind homeplate. The game's just about to start and you're already surrounded with bigwig CEOs and the few rare fans that splurged on such pricey seats.
"Hey." An unknown voice makes itself known behind you and Jack and when the two of you turn around, you're greeted with a balding man and a young boy beside him, around the age of six. "I'm a huge fan of Nightcrawler, it's amazing to meet you. I'm Dan and this is my boy— Neil. Neil's a huge fan of you, Star."
The man is genuine and your smile matches his; you love meeting fans, true fans that aren't seeking out a quick story to sell. "Nice to meet you two." Jack shares the same sentiment, offering a firm handshake before you offer to sign something of Neil's.
After the ceremonial first pitch, the game begins and you and Jack, unsurprisingly, lock in. As a native Angeleno, you're a die hard fan with Jack tagging along for the ride. Media training is nearly forgotten when you're cheering with the fans and booing at bad calls, huffing when your favorite player hits a popout fly ball that ends the inning too soon.
The entire time, you miss the way Jack steals looks at you.
After an inning, you sigh and slump against your seat, catching his gaze before he promptly looks away. "What?"
He chuckles, the sound sticky sweet, lodging deep in your heart. "Nothing, sweetheart. You're just adorable."
Your cheeks burn but you lean in for a kiss anyways which Jack mirrors before the bills of your caps bump into one another. Another low, amused laugh escapes him and the sound is so husky smooth that a shiver zips down your spine. Jack doesn't hesitate to reach up, removez his hat to place it on backwards. Tufts of silver curls escape in the gap between the hat and the strap and it's so boyishly cute that when you kiss him, it's borderline indecent.
Unfortunately, Jack breaks the kiss and the look he gives you, the way his dark gaze drops to your kiss-bitten lips, tempts you to drag him out of his seat and into the closest bathroom. "Behave," he says instead and the way you nod so sweetly, so pliantly nearly has him groaning lowly.
He rewards you with another kiss to your nose before turning your attention back to the ongoing game. fixing his hat to wear it forwards once more. He chuckles and kisses the top of your hat, feeling the pressure of his lips there. You're just as excitable as before but you're happily tucked in his arms now— you've taken to ignoring the little voice in the back of your head (the one that sounds like Trinity) asking what exactly this is with Jack.
With the game slowly approaching the ninth inning, the sun has set and the lights are on illuminating the field. But it doesn't stop the camera from roving around, capturing families and friends onto the big screen.
"And now for the kiss cam—!" The commentator announces as the crew on the field smooth out the dirt track in between bases. You chuckle as you turn your attention to the giant screen, cooing and awwing alongside Jack when the camera stops at an older couple, giggling when it lands on what looks like a first date of a young couple.
But genuine surprise is written all over your face when you and Jack fill the big screen. Your cheeks burn as he chuckles, a blush on his own features as the crowd around you cheers and chants for him to go in for the kiss.
When his eyes meet yours, you give him a little nod. His smile widens, pretty crows' feet deepening as he repeats the similar movement of placing his hat backwards so he can lean in for a proper kiss.
This one is far more chaste than the last, but just as sweet that it has you smiling against his lips. When you part first, the crowd bursts into 'awwws'.
Later that evening, only positive articles and comments could be seen when you scroll through your social media.
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BREAKING NEWS — ABBOT MADE IT TO FIRST BASE!
AT LAST NIGHT'S DODGERS GAME, MUSICIANS JACK ABBOT AND STAR ATTENDED AND PUT ON A LITTLE SHOW FOR THE CROWD. THEY MADE IT ON THE KISS CAM AND SHOWED OFF A LITTLE LOVING. IS THIS THEM FINALLY MAKING IT OFFICIAL?
—
BUZZFEED PRESENTS: THE PUPPY INTERVIEW, FEAT. STAR!
You sit in the center of a room, dressed comfortably with your attention on the puppies crawling over your lap. The producers behind the camera see their chance, diving in to slip in a question that you haven't answered outright.
"So is Jack Abbot officially your boyfriend?"
You lift a baby rottweiler, nose brushing against the pup's with an outlandish baby voice: "No comment," you sing-song without making eye contact with the camera.
—
HOT ONES VERSUS: STAR VS TRINITY SANTOS
Trinity picks the card up between you two as you try not to pant like a goddamn dog in heat. The two of you are halfway through the row of impossibly hot wings. When your best friend had asked you to tag along for the press tour of her newest film (the same one you had a song in the soundtrack), you didn't think it would result in you dying with your tongue on fire.
"Truth or dare," Trinity manages to say in between pants. "Answer the question truthfully or eat a death wing: are you and Jack Abbot officially together?"
You maintain eye contact when you grab the next wing and take a brutal bite.
"Jesus—!" Trinity cackles.
—
SETH MEYER AND JACK ABBOT GO DAY DRINKING
Seth is settled behind the bar, smiling widely as he brings out a bottle of tequila and two shotglasses. The bar they're filming in is empty but the light filtering in through the open windows proves that it truly is daytime. It takes a few minutes of conversation to break the ice, discussing new music and the woes of being an older generation with the media, before Seth pours them both a glass.
"So. Dating life… little birdy tells me that you've got a sweetheart," Seth grins as he nudges a shot closer to Jack. A wide smile curves onto his lips, crows feet deepening as he shakes his head. The entire crew is in agreement; Jack Abbot is smitten.
"I plead the fifth."
"Oh come on," Seth laughs. "We saw the photos, the dates… are you two together?"
Jack maintains eye contact when he downs his shot.
—
TWITTER —
PINK LIMOS IS COMING! @.starsbabey — 2m
im not even kidding i just saw star and jack at wholefoods arguing about MATCHA….. something something about not the right consistency. yall i fear they're MARRIED
JACKSTARS GF @.nitecrawlers — 4m
im getting tired of all these official interviews teasing us about JACKSTAR and its just them denying their relationship like???
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The bulbs of the cameras flashing outside are still somehow able to be seen through the tinted windows. It's a bit startling, kicking up the anxiety levels as the car finally rolls to a stop. Your hands are clammy but you fight the urge to wipe them on the velvet dress that's draped artfully onto your frame. Emma, your stylist, would have your head if you ruin her masterpiece. After all, it's her first time styling you for a high profile event rather than Heather, your main stylist who's currently on maternity leave.
"Hey," Jack murmurs beside you in a sharp tuxedo, cutting sharp angles that emphasize his broad shoulders. His hand finds yours and to his credit, doesn't seem to cringe away from your sweaty nerves. "It's just a benefit gala. After we get past the horde, there won't be anymore cameras inside and we'd be home free."
You nod and you see a shadow move outside the window; it has to be your bodyguard, awaiting for the knock from either you or Jack to give the go ahead and open the door. "Yeah, I know. I'll be fine." You take a deep breath and give a nod. "I'm ready."
Jack maintains eye contact for another beat, as if to make sure of it himself, before he knocks twice against the glass. Your bodyguard waits a beat before he opens the door and the roar of the paparazzi calling for yours and Jack's name nearly bowls you over. Fortunately, Jack steps out first and you duck slightly as you step out of the vehicle.
"Star, over here—"
"… us a smile, sweetheart!"
"Look this way—"
But in the midst of the paparazzi are fans of yours, adorning your merch and holding out posters or albums for you to sign. To your slight relief, they're far closer to you than the paparazzi and you release Jack's hand to stop and sign a few items. While your fans beam at you, the cameramen pounce.
Within seconds, you're swarmed and Jack is nowhere to be seen.
You look up and when only strange men and camera flashes, you're proud of yourself of how steady your voice is when you call for him. None can be said the same for Jack who nearly bellows out your name — not your stage name — and strong arms a few men out of his way. When he cuts through the masses, he looks positively livid and the nerves that had been dialed up to eleven since you've been in the car knocks down a few levels. Relief tentatively seeps through your bones as you give a half-hearted goodbye to fans, immediately reaching out which Jack goes for.
"Hey, hey, hey, get the fuck out of my way—" Jack growls as he shoves one last man, his hand enveloping yours and tucking you close. He stands slightly in front, a human shield against the crowd.
One of the camera men had enough gall to try and placate your lover. "Come on, Jack, she's fine, it's alright—"
"Fuck off," he hisses instead, uncaring of the media as you cling to his arm.
With your heart beating at a slower pace, you tug carefully at his suit. "I'm fine, it's okay, I'm fine."
But Jack just nearly hauls you up the steps and into the hotel lobby where security immediately shuts behind the two of you. You hadn't realized how loud the red carpet had been until you're both inside in the silence of the lobby. Your heels click against marble floors as Jack slowly walks you further in.
You can hear the bustling conversations spilling from the open, double doors of the ballroom venue down the hall, but Jack doesn't bring you inside just yet.
"Baby, you're shaking."
Jack gently rubs at both of your exposed arms and you realize he's correct when you look down at your hands. "I think I'm still rattled," you admit quietly and he nods sympathetically, lets his hands travel down to take yours and give a little squeeze. You can still see adrenaline coursing through him, frustration and anger from the event outside that you reach up to cradle his scruffy jaw. "I'm okay."
"The hell you are—"
"Where've you two been?"
Another familiar voice calls out and when you look, it's Robby exiting the ballroom with a touch of confusion and concern. He looks sharp in a suede black tuxedo, his bowtie neat against his collar. "Got swarmed by the paps outside," Jack grunts as his best friend approaches. Your lover still looks a tad bit jittery which he finally acknowledges as he reluctantly lets go of your hands to shake out. "Can you stay with her for a sec? I'm getting her some water."
"'Course," Robby nods and brings a warm hand to your mid-back once he's close enough. The smile he gives you feels like home and your heart rate is finally lowering to something less anxiety-ridden. Jack gives you a careful kiss to your hairline before he stalks off, anger still rolling off of him in waves.
Maybe it's because Jack isn't around that you let yourself fall apart a little, panic seizing your lungs just enough to take a shaky breath — you didn't want him to worry, maybe kick up his protectiveness another level when he'd already looked so livid outside. Robby hears it immediately and turns around to face you, slightly hunkering down to meet your eye level as he holds your cheek.
"Whoa, you alright, sweetheart?"
His sweet concern makes you nod but your lip quivers and you're quick to lift a hand to brush a finger beneath your waterline. Fortunately, no tears fall. "I'm okay. Jack lost me for a second outside and it was scary to just be surrounded," you share quietly. Robby lets out a low, disapproving grunt and soon he's carefully drawing you into his arms.
"Jesus, no wonder he looks pissed," he mutters against the side of your head as you hug Robby back. He squeezes you once before releasing you, but not without letting go of your hands. "You look beautiful, by the way. Don't know what you see in Jack, but he's one lucky son of a bitch."
The sudden compliment shakes a genuine laugh out of you, a smile blooming as you lightly swat his chest. "Flatterer," you tease but Robby catches your wrist and kisses the back of your hand. It silences you as he hums, looking absolutely shameless as he admires your dress.
"You're wearing the bracelet," he murmurs as he releases your hand, his gaze caught upon the red carnellian heart pendant that dangles from your wrist.
"It's pretty," you shrug and before he might've asked to elaborate, Jack returns with an ice-cold bottle of Pellegrino's. He opens the top off, handing it you while he takes your opposite side. "Thanks, baby."
"Don't mention it," he murmurs before taking the half-empty bottle to hand to the employee nearby to dispose. "You ready to go in?"
When you nod, you enter the benefit gala with Jack on your left and Robby on your right. For the entire evening, neither of the men ever leave your side.
thank you so much for reading! as always, likes and reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!
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