𐙚⋆.˚ jigsaws falling into place
warnings : 18+ MINORS DNI - switch!Declan, switch!reader, age gap, semi public sex, angst, porn w too much plot, cheating, hard sex, mutual masturbation, vomit, fluff, smutttt, mention of other characters (Rupert, Maud, Taggie etc), y/n used, angel + baby used
pairings : Declan O'hara x gn!reader - s1 ep 4 + 5
songs i listened to while writing : jigsaws falling into place, pale shelter, only you, fishtail, babooshka, carmen, teardrop, you’re all i’ve got tonight
a/n : first Declan fic whoop whoop!! God I love Rivals so much i'm so happy it's trending againnn s2 is fire so fire. I promise i'm working on the lakes im just so busy w my exams rn. :(... rather surprised I actually got this finished LOL.
The room had never felt so suffocating, not until now. The victory of a brilliant piece of television created by the man of the hour was short lived as he watched Rupert watch his daughter from far across the room, catching the lingering affection he held and feeling the need to shut it down before it became a problem he wouldn’t be able to fix.
‘I want you to stay away from Taggie… She’s young enough to be your daughter.’
He dosen’t mean to be so blunt, but the words come out before he even comprehends them. He needs to be blunt, his instincts as the protector he always has been in Taggie’s life command it. He wouldn’t let Rupert break her, she was too innocent for a life like his. He wouldn’t let her go through the same pain he had; she deserved so much more than that.
The words that come from Rupert’s mouth startle Declan for a second, the once collected expression of reverent warning was replaced by a fear he didn’t know existed.
Rupert knew of his affairs… and if Rupert knew, who else could? To think the man could have as easily tarnished his reputation just a few hours prior disturbed him more than he had liked it too, leading the room to feel much smaller than it was. It made him feel, small.
‘Sorry- yeah, yeah of course.’
Rupert nods, shaking his head at his own stupidity as Declan turns his head up at him. He almost seems remorseful, like what he had said had been a grave mistake. Then, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into their rightful place. You’d told him. You’d been stupid enough to tell Rupert campbell fucking black about you and Declan’s reckless infidelities. He was furious. Not only had you been foolish, but you’d put everything into jepordy. It might’ve been selfish of him to think like this, but didn't he have every right to be?
You were young, younger than he had liked. He hadn’t exactly mean’t to start whatever this thing was between the two of you, but he had in a moment of vulnerability. Now, he couldn’t help but think he had made a mistake. Looking over his shoulder, he sees his daughter, his wife : the truth was there. He had made a mistake, and he needed to fix it before it was far too late to come back.
He sat by the phone for a period of 45 minutes when he arrived home. A glass of scotch sat idly in his hand, the remnants of his third drink of the night stilled in his glass, swirling against the glass as he handled it, a distraction against his uncontrollable thoughts.
Ruperts words were repeated over and over again in his head, the weight of them being pushed to the front of his mind, making them linger insistently. The scotch was meant to act as a barrier against them, an intoxicant that could push the thoughts of you away from his mind for at least a couple of hours. It had cruelly done the exact opposite of what he had hoped, leaving him to wallow in his own sorrows, leaving him rattled by the telephone that's ring didn't dare to break the silence.
He lifted the glass to his lips for a second time, the coldness of it lingering on his lips before he tilted it towards his tongue, the amber liquids sting numbed against the lining of his throat, an easier thing for him to swallow than the thought of letting you go.
With a sigh, he stares down at the empty glass, tilting it on its side before him, the light that caught its circular walls, reflecting off of the planes and onto himself weakly. He could have another glass, there was enough in the bottle at his side for another; but what was the point? A dozen glasses of scotch would mean nothing. He still wouldn’t have the guts to pick up that phone by the end of the night, not to phone you at least. So, he stared at the object, hoping that the answer to his problems would appear in its barren space and save him the trouble of calling you up.
He fell asleep with the glass at his feet that night.
Walking into the Venturer building the following day, you held your head high, just as you always did. Holding your folder to your chest, you stroll down the halls of the building, in need of a well-deserved coffee after yesterday's events.
Your confidence was diminished as quickly as you masked it when you turned the corner and came face to face with Declan, dropping your head pathetically as you mumble an incoherent ‘sorry’, hesitantly lifting your head again as you knew the exact expression he would be holding.
The afterparty had ran beautifully; people drank, people sang… god, even Daysee sang. You never thought you’d see the day but still, you cheered her on, laughing and hollering alongside Seb and Taggie as she tried to hit the high notes of Babooshka.
But Rupert had stopped you in the midst of the fun, feigning an innocence you took as giddy drunkenness as he pulled you away from your friends, giggling softly as you were taken away, welcoming your friend with a soft pat to the cheek. But them giggles were quickly replaced with a look of drunken despair as he revealed what he had done, spluttering over your words of anger and fear as you stood before him. You’d trusted him with your secret; out of anybody here, you had believed Rupert wouldn’t let his mouth slip about your infidelities, especially with the amount of secrets you had about him. But he had let his mouth slip to the very person it was about instead, leaving you to sulk for the rest of the night and make an early return home.
Declan brushed you off as quickly as you had came into contact with him, muttering back a stern ‘we need to talk later’, the Irish tilt in his voice grown with his simmering anger as he stepped away, not wanting to make a scene in such a public area. He was still seething, but he held back for now. Now wasn’t the time, evidently.
So he left you to stand there in the hall, your heart sunken so deeply into your stomach that you believed the only way you would be able to retrieve it was to hurl it up.
That was exactly what you did.
Your feet began to move before you even comprehended the movement, turning the hall in a scurry to the nearest lavatory, knees falling harshly onto the pale floors, the colour closely resembling the pale feeling of regret you felt as you dropped your head deeper into the toilet bowl, vomiting the remnants of your breakfast this morning; consisting of a coffee and sad piece of toast, all mixed into one sloppy mess in the toilet bowl.
You grunt at the sight, forcing yourself back up and flushing the strong scent of sickness down the drain, masking your pain with a perfected smile before stepping back into your role for the day. You’d deal with the actions of your consequences later… or at least Declan would.
You stumble lightly as you step into the room behind Declan, head dropped in defeat once again as you held your folder to your chest, much tighter than before with the pieces of paper it held acting as lifeline for your racing thoughts.
The tension in the room made you feel smaller than normal as the door shut behind you, his guttural sigh already displaying his anger as he turned to your body, looking you over once before taking another and speaking.
‘Out of anybody you could’ve told about us, you told bloody Campbell-black!?’
His voice raises in a fraction as he steps towards you, eyes flickering over your figure as his anger builds further and further, coming off of him in waves, having you step back, a little frightened for the repercussions of your actions.
‘I didn't mean to it just, happened.’
The weakened sound of your voice is unusual as it leaves your lips, completely foreign in contrast to the usual confidence you carry. If it was anything else, Declan would be empathetic for it, but this was different.
‘It just happened?! This isn’t some little secret you tell for conversation fillers y/n, it's real shit. I’m married for Christs sake!’
‘You don’t think I know that?’
Your confidence returns as you decidedly lift your head, slightly, but it's there. Your lip quivers softly as you meet his stern gaze, a look that has never been used on you before. For a moment, it makes you believe that you might in fact throw up again. But you swallow the bile that rises up your throat, turning your head away from him for a moment as you sigh.
‘I trusted him. I suppose I shouldn’t have. But you don’t have to shout at me like i’m some child who can’t keep their mouth shut.’
‘Yeah well, you're acting like one.’
He doesn’t shout this time; but the words cut deeper than any baseless shout or insult could.
Your voice returns to its fragility it carried at the beginning of the argument, a fragility you hate yourself for feeling. And even as he hears its, he doesn’t apologise… he just, sighs, reaching for his cigarettes on instinct as he turns his body away from yours, needing the distance for what he's about to say next.
‘We should stop this. It ain’t right, never was.’
Your heart sinks again, feeling the need to throw it back up. You painfully swallow it back down, deciding your heart isn't needed in this moment, only your words. The only thing you can’t swallow is your tears, slowly beginning to form in the corners of your irises, filling the pupils before you can stop them.
‘You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.’
He shuts you down immediately, flicking the lighter twice before the flame comes through, cutting through the tension of the room as he lights the end in his mouth, taking a long drag and letting the smoke bellow out of his lips. He doesn’t turn, his eyes rested heavily on the floor in-front of him. Declan O’hara was a man of pure confidence; but in this moment, he was a coward and so, his head hung low. You scoff at his cravenness, the sound cutting through the room as you shake your head at the irony of it all.
‘At least look at me you coward.’
You scoff once again, preying on his ego as he turns, meeting your gaze with a hesitation you hadn’t seen from him before. For a moment, he almost looks sorry, but he masks it with frustration, shaking his own head at you and taking another drag of his cigarette in irritation.
‘Coward? You’re a fine one to talk. You couldn’t even look at me at that party yesterday.’
He retaliates, a smirk almost coming across his face but, he holds it back, taking another drag as he catches your gaze, a gaze he's so very used too. You're seething, and he's the cause of it.
‘And can you blame me? You're trying to end this because of a marriage that's only held together by your children. It’s pathetic Declan.’
He doesn’t laugh at that, and neither do you. Although what you had said had been the truth, a long awaited one at that, it was a hard truth to swallow, most certainly for Declan as he stared blankly.
His words, so definitive and harsh, shock you. He wasn’t lying this time, and you couldn’t think of any snappy comeback for them.
He drops the cigarette into the ash tray, not even bothering to put it out, only moving forward. Your feet stay rooted to the floor, unable to move under his change in demeanour, the lingering aroma of tobacco smoke that settled in the air and came off his clothes filling your senses as he stood before you, the distance between the both of you gone, leaving no room for apology or witty remarks.
A million different insults race to be said as he watches you flinch, tilting your head up at him and meeting his gaze, waiting for him to speak. But he doesn’t. For some reason, he can’t. Maybe it’s because you're right; his marriage had been in ruin before he’d even set foot in Rutshire, long before he’d met you. Being with Maud was comfortable, something he had grown acquainted to in their years of marriage. But the shallow Waters he swam were becoming repetitive, and the beautiful, calculated storm you had brought into his life was like being thrown into the deeper ocean, leaving him to drown in the fear of something he knew he shouldn’t be doing. He was going to drown if he continued, the water was rising… but so was his heart rate.
He moves in without thinking, his body acting on instinct as he presses his lips against your own, tasting the salt of your fallen tears on your lips. His hand shakes faintly as he brings it to the side of your face, cupping your jaw to pull you closer. And although you'll hate yourself for it later, you lean up and into his touch, letting yourself sink into the feeling of his skin and lips against your own, opening your mouth a little wider to let him in.
You don’t care that you’re at work; the feeling of his mouth against your own is enough to get the both of you going, dropping the folder that you held so tightly against your chest to the floor, letting the papers spill and scatter like his marriage, no longer caring for the documents or his relationship with Maud as he pulls you closer.
You moan as his hands roam your body, tilting your head further up and letting your tongue swipe amongst his as he returns the sound, a smirk climbing onto his face. The anger from the argument the two of you had been so heavily engrossed in had simmered, replaced by an unbridled amount of lust, throbbing for his touch.
Reaching for his hand, you take it in your own, making him palm you through your jeans, needing to feel his touch in your most needed areas, even if it was through tough denim. But he responds to your neediness by pushing you back, settling your body against the hardness of the closed door, uncaring for whoever may have been roaming the halls behind it, only caring for the need to please you.
He slips his hand into your underwear as soon as the zip comes undone, slipping his fingers through the cloth that was already soaked through, teeth catching your lip as he smiles at your neediness, loving the way that your nails scrapped against the back of his neck, clinging to the hair that adorned it as he touched you.
He teases, the Irish tilt of his voice turning you on all the more as your hips buck into his hand, moaning around his lips as he parts, the hair of his stache brushing against your skin as he peppers kisses down your face, leading into the crook of your neck as he works on your skin.
You mumble back, smiling yourself now as he lifts his head, scoffing at your tease but doing nothing to stop his movements, especially when you slip your hand into his underwear. Two could play that game, and you weren’t going down as a solo player.
His movements on your heat stutter for a second as your free hand grips his shaft, working the muscle with agonisingly slowed movements, making him gruff into the crook of your neck and almost collapse into your touch. Declan O’hara was a man with a morale higher than most that entered this building, but it was no match to yours, especially when you were touching him like this.
His hips move forward, begging for more friction from your hand as he tries to shrug himself out of the trousers that confined him, needing more of you. He moves efficiently, knowing the two of you didn’t have much time. Declan was on edge; you knew that from the second you’d walked in here, and it wasn’t just because of what you had done, there was something else that he was hiding. But the thought was gone again as he entered himself against you, the feeling of his tip grazing your hole making you whimper softly, needing him to push forward. And he does, providing you with the pleasure that you were both so desperately in need of.
He doesn’t give you the time to adjust but instead, moves with a ferocity that is enough to knock the wind out of your lungs, arms coming up as quickly as he was moving to grip his shoulders for stability, holding him closer as he moved inside of you.
You stifle your moans by securing your lips onto the skin of his neck, holding him closer as you moaned sweetly into the crook of his neck, swiping your lips against the stubble that adorned the top of it as you pulled him closer, craving the feeling of him pushing even deeper and hitting that spot inside of you.
You moan again, a little softer now as you lean up and into his ear, trying to keep your voice down as you're so close to the outside of the office. If anyone was to catch you like this, you’d both be done for. It would be the biggest scandal to ever hit Corinium… but the mere thought of it however turned you on more than you would’ve liked you to admit, earning another moan from your mouth as he rooted deeper. head tilting down to rummage through your hair and meet your ear.
He whispers, the softness of his voice against your hair completely juxtaposing his movements into you; hard and passionate. You whimper around it, pulling him deeper as your legs lift up around him, holding him closer in an embrace as your head tilts back, needing to meet his gaze.
He smiles at how completely fucked out you look, slowing for a moment as his hand comes back to your face, gently swiping the slick of your hair from your face, taking in your features, his pupils blown wide as he takes in the sight. He couldn’t let you go, not when you looked this beautiful under him.
You whimper softly, opening your eyes to meet his as he holds your face, cradling it in the palm of his hand as you smile weakly at him, trying to adjust yourself under his cock as he holds you up.
He teases delicately, leaning his lips down to meet the top of your cheek, kissing away a tear that had fell before pressing one to your lips and going back to his movements, making you moan on tandem.
You fall apart under him, letting out a string of moans into his neck, the pulse around his cock leading him to follow a few moments after, holding you tighter when he forces himself to pull out, letting out spirts of thick, white cum onto your stomach, panting as he rests your forehead against your own.
Maud didn’t matter in this moment, nor did Rupert, and nor did the prick you both called boss. The only thing that mattered to him was the bliss displayed so pleasantly on your face, that brought him all the peace that he craved. He wasn’t done with you… far from it.
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