off limits // jack abbot pt. 1
you always thought you were a person of logic and restraint, but running into Jack Abbot after all these years has you fighting your desire for your ex boyfriends uncle.
genre: jack abbot x reader, age gap, forbidden romance, ex's uncle, mutual pining, jack fell first, eventual smut 18+ nsfw
(a/n: I did a poll and you little freaks wanted this one the most. and i do not blame you thank you so much for picking this one because i secretly wanted to finish writing it anyways lol. hope you like it!!)
It had been over two years since the breakup, and honestly, it was for the best. Your boyfriend never really loved you, and if you were being truthful with yourself, you were only with him to keep the loneliness at bay. You’d almost managed to scrub him from your memory entirely until a clumsy trip at work landed you in the ER.
And of all the people to be on shift, it had to be Jack Abbot.
You’d always liked Jack. Back when you were dating his nephew, Jack was the one person in that family who was consistently sweet to you. He was polite, kind, and though you’d never admitted it then, devastatingly sexy.
Jack had recognized you the second you were wheeled in. He could never forget those eyes, or the curve of your lips. Back then, he’d spent countless hours reining in his thoughts while you were with his nephew.
It wasn’t always about desire. Often, it was the protective urge that spiked when he saw how poorly his nephew treated you. All he’d ever wanted was to show you how special you actually were. Of course though, he was twice your age and the messy reality of the family connection. But seeing you here, with a nasty gash on your head from your fall, those complications felt miles away. Jack had made it his personal priority to stitch you up himself.
The room had been thick with an unaddressed silence as he worked. It wasn't until he turned back to recheck the precision of his sutures that you finally broke the tension.
“Didn’t think I’d see you ever again, much less like this.”
Jack’s heart gave a wild thrum, the same frantic beat it used to give whenever you’d trail into his house behind his nephew. He cleared his throat, his voice steady but warm.
“I practically live here, so this is the only way you’d probably run into me,” Jack said. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Between the night shifts and the sleep deprived grocery runs, the hospital was his world.
You managed a weak smile as you reached down to pick your purse up from the floor. “I’ll try not to make it a habit of crashing your work.”
Jack’s smile deflated at those words. He wanted to see you every day.
Minus the head injuries, of course.
You stood up, adjusting your bag over your shoulder, and offered him a parting nod. “Don’t work too hard, Abbott.”
Something in Jack sparked at the sound of his name on your lips. It was a rekindling of a fire he thought he had tamped down for good. He watched you walk away, but this time, he wasn't sure he was going to let two years go by before seeing you again.
…
Over the next few months, it seemed as though the universe was staging a persistent intervention. Despite Jack’s insistence that he lived at the hospital, you began to see him everywhere.
It started at the park.
You were mid stride on the track path, when you saw a familiar silhouette approaching from the opposite direction. As you drew closer, Jack looked up at the exact moment you did. You locked eyes and ran past each other. The momentum carried you a few yards further before the confusion set in. You slowed to a jog, then a walk, pulling one earphone out and turning around.
You were met with the sight of Jack doing the exact same thing. He stood there, chest heaving slightly, a sheepish but warm expression on his face. Without a word, he fell into step beside you. You finished your run together in a comfortable silence, eventually parting with nothing more than a lingering wave before you climbed into your car.
Then came the grocery store. You were weighing produce when you turned to find him reaching for a bag of apples.
Then the mall. You were coming out of a department store just as he was passing by.
Then the library. You were browsing and there he was, leaning against a mahogany shelf reading.
Each time, the routine was the same. A shared look of disbelief, a small smile, and a few moments of easy company. It was becoming impossible to ignore that these weren't just coincidences.
Every time you crossed paths, Jack would change his plans and join you. He was consistently sweet and thoughtful, possessing a quiet maturity that made it harder and harder to remember why you’d ever settled for his nephew.
The contrast between the two men was so jarring that one afternoon, you couldn't help but let the thought slip. "I honestly can’t believe he came from your family," you muttered, shaking your head.
Jack let out a snort of amusement. “You’ve never met my brother,” he said, a wry glint in his eyes. “He can be a similar kind of asshole, so it makes sense his kid inherited that.”
You laughed, but internally, your mind was racing. It would be crazy to sleep with your ex’s uncle, right? Like, actually insane.
But then Jack would tilt his head back to laugh at something you said, and all logic would evaporate. You found yourself staring at the wide expanse of his neck, your pulse quickening. In those moments, you didn't care about family trees or social taboos. All you desperately wanted to do was swipe your tongue across his Adam’s apple and follow all the way up to his mouth.
Every run in had your cheeks heating up, but the next time you crossed paths absolutely took the cake.
You had always liked taking yourself out on fancy solo dates. It was a way to self indulge, but mostly, it was a perfect excuse to wear the nice dresses gathering dust in your closet. Tonight, you had chosen a delicate little black dress. One that hugged every curve perfectly and featured beautiful sheer sleeves.
As you sat at the bar, swirling the wine in your glass, the skin on your neck began to prickle.
You had become so attuned to his presence over the last few months that you knew he was there before you even saw him.
When you finally turned to look, Jack was being led past the bar by a hostess, accompanied by two other men who looked vaguely familiar. When he finally locked eyes with you, time seemed to stutter. All the two of you could do was stare, mouths slightly agape.
He was dressed in an all black button up and matching slacks, his hair styled in just the right way.
Delicious.
Once the hostess seated them, Jack found it physically impossible to keep his eyes off you. His gaze wandered over your legs, those heels, and that fucking dress. He felt a wave of internal panic.
Fuck, what are you doing to him?
He told himself he was an old man. An old man who had morals, who knew that you were not only young but strictly off limits.
But as he watched you sip your wine, he couldn't help but think that maybe that was exactly what made this feel so dangerously good.
“What’s good here?” Robby asked, scanning his menu. When Jack didn’t answer, Robby and Langdon shared a look of confusion. They followed Jack’s line of vision across the room until they landed on you, sitting alone in that devastating black dress.
“Isn’t that...” Robby started, his brow furrowing.
Langdon finished for him, “The girl you stitched up a month or two ago?”
“Yeah,” was all Jack could say. He knew he was blatantly staring. Maybe desperately, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.
Before his friends could even rib him for it, Jack stood up. He didn't really make a conscious decision to move. He felt pulled, dragged by the universe or some magnetic force he’d be stupid to fight any longer. He crossed the floor, his eyes never leaving yours.
“How is it that in all of the restaurants in Pittsburgh, you are here tonight?” he asked as he reached you.
You blinked up at him, feeling the heat of his gaze. “I don’t know, but for someone who doesn’t get out much, why do I keep seeing you everywhere?”
Jack didn't answer immediately. He just stood there, his eyes roving over you, taking in the sheer sleeves and the way the fabric held your body.
“Do you want some company?” he asked.
You glanced past his shoulder, seeing Robby and Langdon staring down the whole situation from their table. “Should you leave your friends?”
“My friends will be okay,” Jack said firmly.
You let out a soft laugh and gestured toward the empty chair opposite you. As Jack sat down, completely abandoning his party, Robby turned toward Langdon and rolled his eyes.
“Guess it’s just me and you for guys' night,” Robby muttered, reaching for the wine list.
With Jack here, that familiar bundle of nerves tightened in your chest.
“So, do you still live at the house with that big pool in the backyard?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Jack smiled. He loved that you remembered that detail. “I do. Couldn’t get me to leave for a million dollars,” he replied.
You leaned back, the memory of that house flickering through your mind. You had spent so much time there, yet it felt like you’d only ever seen it through a window. “I’m sad I never got to swim in it. It looked so nice,” you admitted. Your ex had hated swimming, so the pool had always been a look but don't touch feature.
The mere thought of you in a bathing suit, skin glistening as you climbed out of his pool, sent Jack’s body into immediate overdrive. He gripped his wine glass, trying every mental trick in the book to distract himself from the imagery, but the mental picture was too vivid.
Looking down at you, his voice dropped a fraction as he spoke. “Well, you should come by and swim.” He caught the intensity in his own tone and quickly tacked on, “If you want to.”
You took a slow sip of your wine, watching him over the rim of the glass. “I would love to.”
You couldn't get over to Jack Abbott’s house quick enough.
…
The bill was settled, and despite the lingering stares from Robby and Langdon, Jack didn't offer a single glance back at his friends. His attention was a fixed point, and that point was you.
"You didn't have to leave them," you said, though your voice lacked any real conviction. "I'm sure they had plenty more to discuss than hospital politics."
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours as you walked. "Trust me, I’ve heard all their stories twice over. Besides," he glanced at you. "I think we both know I wasn't going to be much of a conversationalist over there once I saw you sitting alone."
You reached your car and turned to face him, leaning back against the driver’s side door. "So, you’re saying I’m a distraction, Abbott?"
Jack stepped closer, just enough to enter your personal space, but not enough to be improper. He looked down at you, his gaze tracing the line of your jaw before settling on your lips.
"A significant one," he admitted.
The air between you was charged, thick with the unsaid. You could see the internal struggle in the set of his shoulders.
"I'll see you at the pool then?" you whispered, the challenge clear in your eyes.
He nodded and you watched him walk back into the restaurant to find his friends. Leaving you to try desperately to cool off.
…
It had been a few weeks since you had seen or talked to Jack. He had spent most of his off hours glancing at his phone, then at the shimmering blue water of his backyard, eventually convincing himself that you had thought better of it. He figured you’d realized that showing up at your ex’s uncle’s house was a line you didn't want to cross. He told himself it was for the best, his morals were intact, even if his disappointment was heavy.
But when he woke up Saturday morning and reached for his phone, the air in his bedroom suddenly felt thin.
There it was, a notification that made his heart skip a beat. A good morning text, followed immediately by: "How’s the water feel?"
Jack sat up abruptly, rubbing a hand over his face as a grin took over. Shit was starting to feel very real.
He looked out the window at the water, reflecting the bright morning sun.
He needed to reply. He needed to find a swimsuit that didn't look like he’d owned it since the nineties. And most importantly, he needed to figure out how to keep his hands to himself when you finally showed up.
He typed back: "It’s perfect."
…
Jack felt like he was already fucking ruined.
The sight of you standing in his living room, framed by the morning light, was enough to make his pulse stutter. You were wearing a dark sundress that obscured your swimsuit, and he silently told himself that was for the best, considering he was already half hard just from the sheer fact that you were finally here.
It was strange how calm you had felt during the entire drive over. Usually, a situation this loaded would have your heart in your throat, but pulling into Jack’s driveway had just felt right.
As you followed him out toward the gleaming blue of the pool, a memory washed over you. You remembered the last time you were standing on this deck. Your boyfriend had been playing basketball with a friend, the sounds of the ball thudding against the pavement echoing through the yard. You had been sitting right there, tucked into a lounge chair with a book, trying to disappear into the pages.
Jack had come out to join you then, too. You remembered looking up and offering him a smile. The only real one you’d had all day.
Then, your boyfriend’s voice had cut through the air. “Baaaabe, can you get me some water?” He’d made a mock drinking motion with his hand, despite being stood right next to the sliding door, mere steps away from the kitchen.
“No.” you had said casually, not even shifting your weight.
Jack hadn't been able to help himself. He’d let out a barking laugh that seemed to startle even him. He watched his nephew huff and disappear into the house to get it himself, then he turned his attention back to you. He looked at the beautiful, smart girl sitting in front of him and found himself wondering aloud, “Why are you with him?”
You hadn't looked up from your book. You had just stared at the page, your eyes tracking the same sentence over and over until the words lost all meaning.
“I ask myself that every day,” you had whispered.
…
Unfortunately, of all the bad, dog shit days Jack had experienced in the ER, he had never encountered a personal hell quite like this one.
He watched, rooted to the spot, as you dipped a hand into the water to test the temperature. When you reached down and pulled the dark sundress over your head, Jack didn’t think he could speak even if he wanted to.
Of all the pure filth running through his head, and there was plenty, all he could truly settle on was the sheer fact that you were here. You were in his presence, choosing to be with him, spending your Saturday in his backyard. He had adored you from the very moment he met you, and seeing you now, you looked like sin and an angel at the same time.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, genuinely fearing that if he didn't, he might make some sort of dumb, grabby motion toward you. The thought of losing his composure like that mortified him, yet his gaze remained hungry.
You dove in gracefully, your body cutting through the blue surface. The water felt incredible against your skin. When you broke the surface, you pushed your hair back and beamed at him with a huge smile.
“Oh my god. I never want to leave,” you laughed, treading water.
He didn't want you to leave either. Not today, and maybe not ever. When you tilted your head and motioned for him to join you, the last of his restraint vanished.
…
The sun had finally begun to dip, casting long shadows across the water. You had stayed at Jack’s all day, the hours melting away into easy conversation.
“I should be going,” you said softly, your voice carrying over the water as you sat on the top step of the shallow end. “I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. I just, I love this pool.”
Jack, who had been doing slow laps in the deep end, turned and swam toward you. He hoisted himself up to sit on the step beside you, his shoulder inches from yours.
“Stay as long as you want,” he said. “It doesn't bother me. Not in the slightest.”
Your hands were resting near each other on the tiled step, the water lapping over your knuckles.
“You know,” you started, tracing a pattern in the water, “I think the only reason I stayed with him so long was so I could get to see you.”
Maybe it was the two drinks, or maybe you were just tired of the dance, but the confession felt like it had been clawing to get out for years. “And seeing you again, it confirmed that.”
You looked up at him and he was already looking at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. The intensity of his gaze made you flare with sudden nerves. You stood up abruptly, wading into the waist deep water of the shallow end, running your fingers over the surface as you walked away.
“That was stupid. Sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head.
But Jack didn't let you get far. He stood up, the water cascading off his chest, and followed you. He moved with a quiet intent until you were pinned against the corner of the pool. He didn't touch you at first. He just braced his hands on the stone edge on either side of your waist, trapping you into space.
“Jack,” you breathed, but you didn’t get another word out.
He dipped his head and finally took your mouth with his. It wasn't a hesitant kiss. It was years of suppressed longing breaking through the surface. You didn't hesitate, leaning into him and pressing your hands against the hard plane of his chest.
Jack let out a moan against your lips. His hands dropped into the water, his palms finding the curve of your hips and pulling you flush against him as the kiss intensified. You opened your mouth for him, and he didn't waste a second, his tongue seeking yours with a hunger that told you he couldn’t get enough.
When he finally pulled back just an inch, his chest was heaving, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” he rasped. “And I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”
“Never,” you whispered.
He took that permission and dove back in, his kiss even more desperate this time. His hands began to roam with total abandon, sliding over the slick fabric of your suit. When his hand moved lower, pressing firmly over your center, you let out a moan directly into his mouth.
Jack pulled away again, his eyes wild and dark. “Do you want to go inside?” he pleaded, his breath hot against your skin. “Please say you want to go inside.”
You didn’t need words. You nodded, your fingers lacing through his. He gripped your hand tight, leading you out of the water and toward the house, neither of you looking back at the pool.
You and Jack were still hand in hand, skin damp and pulses racing, when you rounded the corner into the kitchen. The sound of rustling plastic stopped abruptly. Standing there, half bent over the pantry shelves with a bag of chips in his hand, was your ex.
He froze. He looked at your interlaced fingers, then up at his uncle’s face and then finally at you, standing there in nothing but a towel and a damp swimsuit.
“I fucking knew it.”
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there will be a part 2, which is the final part, so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!!
