#ab x reader

each time that i think of you, i push another through, and recall how the bullet flew

Even now with him gone from you, you couldn’t help yourself.

With a video playing in one hand (something old, the quality poor but the bodies within it unmistakably you and Alfie) and the other occupying the space between your legs, the air of your bedroom was filled by your sounds of pleasure.

It didn’t matter to you that he’d screamed in your face just two hours ago. What mattered was filling the coitus void he’d left.

The pleasure you were reaping the benefits of was from something before. Before the bullet of his words struck your heart and left you mentally scrambling to reason with what he’d told you. 

You had no doubts about him having found another woman to fix the emptiness of his night without you, and you also had no doubts that his thoughts were still of you. 

He could act like he didn’t care all he wants, but at the end of the day, you knew that no other girl would ever compare to you. You would always be in the forefront of his mind. Much like he was in yours.

You sunk another finger into your leaking hole, trying to replicate the motions he’d gotten oh so good at. 

It was hard, because nothing would ever be as perfect as him, but you managed to get to a point where you were teetering over the edge of a climax, before crashing right into it with a loud, unabashed moan that left you trembling and your mind reeling with thoughts of the man you craved so carnally.  

In the silence of your room, the air thick and heavy, memories came flooding back, as wanted as a split lip.

Shutting your phone off, you swiped your fingers along your bedsheets before bringing your hands to your face, shielding yourself from the world by curling into a ball on your side.

The memory of his stone cold words came flooding back, hitting you like sharp pebbles. His eyes had turned a dark shade of green in that moment, almost slate-like, as he cursed at you over and over again. He was ruthless in that moment, much like you’d begged him to be. You wanted honesty, not a sugarcoated fantasy he would conjure up just to satisfy you. 

It was that honesty that left you single.

each time that i think of you, i barricade the room, one more wound

Masturbating to your ex boyfriend wasn’t your proudest moment, and the weight of what you’d done certainly hit you like a freight train afterwards. Here you were, pleasuring yourself to the idea of a man that would crush your heart over and over again. It was pathetic, really, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Besides, it wasn’t all his fault.

You knew that. You knew you were unstable, and still you looked at him with this unfiltered hope in your eyes like he could fix everything wrong with you. That wasn’t his responsibility, and that became nothing but clear when he was faced with your breakdowns.

He was a man that needed freedom and flexibility, not insecurity and uncertainty. 

He needed you to trust him, and it wasn’t that you didn’t, you just … lost yourself sometimes.

It was like a carnal need within you to be by his side.

It was controlling, you knew that too, but you couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t like he was any better. He was controlling in other ways, ways that didn’t show to the public eye.

You were both just as bad as each other, and that’s why together, it was a train wreck. 

If it wasn’t you screaming and hitting, it was him yelling and shoving.

You were awful together, but it was so addicting. The highs after the crash. The laughter and the joys that always followed once the dust had settled and the fire within the both of you burnt out.

But you needed to forget about him.

This was it now.

He said no more takebacks.

You and Alfie were done.

The thought made you feel brutally, violently sick, and if you didn’t get up and at something you were going to do something awful. Something you’d regret.

say when you want me, to come back and hold you, and surely, maybe you want me, and i'll be the half i need

A month had dragged by, torturously slow. It was almost painful. The hours had ticked by second by agonising second, and the skin around your nails was marred by now. Torn through by your own teeth. Blood stained at your cuticle, something you’d become desensitised to.

The memory of his gentleness was the only thing keeping you going.

He’d stitch you up after a fight, kiss your temple to calm the headache brewing in the form of a tight band across your head. Sometimes there’d be cuts on your knuckles from where you’d slammed your fist into something, or an occasional cut on your face where an inanimate object had skimmed the side of your head and smacked the wall behind you.

When that happened, he’d press an alcohol wipe to the injury, a little harsh, like he wanted it to hurt. And then your weeping eyes met his stern ones, and his touch softened. He’d kiss the plasters, scribble a little ‘A’ over them and hold you until the pain stopped.

You’d hold an ice pack to his collarbone where a bruise was blossoming, evidence of your own anger.

Neither of you were perfect, but maybe that’s what made your bond special.

Or perhaps it was that you both had zero backbone when it came to each other.

It was a Saturday night when your phone lit up with his name, and the decision to accept or decline the call. You were out with your girls, but you’d never left a club faster, bringing the device to your ear.

“Alfie?!”

“Hey, angel.”

“Oh, God.” You whispered, emotion clogging in your throat as your heart thumped in your ears.

“How are you?”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He sniffled.

“Are you okay?” You frowned.

“I … I need you back. I need you back so bad. I’m so sorry, I can’t do this without you. Come back to me, please.”

“I want to … I really do.” You croaked, “But, I …”

“No buts, darlin’. None of that, yeah? Just me and you, forever. I promise you. Let me have you back now, and I’ll never leave you again, never scream at you again, never hurt you again. You just gotta promise the same.”

“Oh, Alfie.” Your voice broke, tears flowing freely at this point, “I— I promise. I promise. No more fighting.”

“Say you want me to come back — to come home — and I’ll do it. I’ll come to your apartment now and hold you all night if you want. Just— Just, please. Please.” His voice broke with raw desperation.

“Okay. Okay, yes. Come back to me, please. I’m sorry, Alfie, I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too, angel. So much.”

and then, even, i would hold you, like me

Somehow, you ended up home at the same time as him.

Your bodies clattered into each other outside your building, your arms tight around his neck as his came around your waist. His grip was almost suffocating, but you didn’t care.

If you were going to die anywhere, you wanted it to be in Alfie’s arms.

You don’t remember making it inside, but you were, sitting in his lap, knees bracketing his thighs with your hands resting on his shoulders.

His heart was freakishly fast beneath his ribcage, hard too, like it was going to shatter the bones keeping it in place.

You pressed kiss after kiss to the column of his throat, hoping to soothe him with your affection.

“I’m so sorry, Reader. I should’ve never treated you like that. You’re everything to me. It kills me to know I hurt your feelings. You … You’re too good for me.”

“No.” You stopped him, hands coming up to his face as you began to ramble about the extent of your love for him, the way it had no bounds.

And of course you did.

It was so like you to be the one sat in his lap, comforting him, making him feel better for the mistreatment that he’d perpetuated onto you.

In your mind, this was all a part of the journey, the journey to having a loving, successful relationship. It wasn’t his fault, nor was it yours, it was just a matter of fact. It would all be worth it in the end.

When you and Alfie were cuddled up on the sofa with a baby resting between you in an old cottage in the Yorkshire countryside, these moments would be viewed as nothing more than a blip in the road.

Not one relationship was perfect, and if it was, they weren’t doing it right.

Right?

Love wasn’t supposed to be easy. There’s always going to be tribulations that you have to work through, that’s how you prove the true infatuation you share with your significant other.

Going into a relationship and expecting it to be smooth sailing was just setting you both up for failure.

“Take me back.” He sniffled, salty streams tearing down his face, “Please.”

“In time.” You replied. “I want you back too, but we have to get there, yeah? I’ll be waiting on you the whole time.”

It was a sensible answer, one that shocked you as much as him.

You half expected yourself to cave and pander to his needs, but thankfully, you stood strong.

Of course you wanted to curl into his ribcage and settle there, make a home for yourself that he would never forget even if you were to leave him, but you would do that in time.

and i wait a year, and i wait two, in the late night, like you're half of me, i would wait to hold you

Thankfully, you both stuck to your word.

You got to know each other all over again, like your past wasn’t there, and you hadn’t had anything before.

It was working, it really was. An occasional date here and there, love-filled text messages throughout the day.

Until night hit.

Alfie couldn’t handle night times alone, and he was trying so desperately hard to be loyal to you.

He found himself staring at his phone for hours, waiting on your response.

Minutes felt like hours when the sun wasn’t around.

If this was before, he’d have called you ten times by now before hitting you with an onslaught of insults for even daring to ignore him. But you weren’t ignoring him, you were just busy. That’s what he convinced himself of so that he stayed calm. So he didn’t lose everything he’d been working on for the past nine months.

His duvet was a tangled mess between his legs as he tossed and turned.

He could’ve sworn he’d heard his phone ping with a notification from you, but everytime he checked, he was just met with an image of the two of you from a few years ago.

You were both beaming in it, filled with nothing but elation at one of his mates birthday party. He remembered the night that followed.

You’d lost it at him, started sobbing your eyes out because he found company in another girl while you were in the restroom. What followed your wails was an increase in his volume and some spittle as he got in your face, telling you you needed to ‘chill out’ and that if he wanted to cheat on you, he wouldn’t do it in your face.

You weren’t sure if those words were supposed to be comforting or not, but they certainly didn’t do much to console the tempest in your mind.

He’d held you until you fell asleep after that, because you’d tired yourself out, and he’d shoved you about a few times until you were begging for his touch in an intimate way. In a way that didn’t include an open palm on heated skin, but more of a gentle caress, swiping your tears away.

That’s what he yearned for now.

He wanted you in his arms, nose pressed to the tight muscle of his bicep with your legs wrapped around his waist. He wanted your scent on his sheets, your presence in his apartment.

It didn’t feel the same without it.

i was an angel, though plummeting

After a year, the two of you were secure again, but it was getting rocky.

Of course it was.

The pair of you never lasted very long at all. The good times were fantastic, but short lived.

He kept going out to these influencer events that you were never invited to. YoungLA, MyProtein, brand after brand after brand that wanted his name involved in their company, but never yours.

There were other girls there, of course, and that never settled well in your stomach, though you were always grateful to the Fellas because they never forgot you. Every night out, you were invited, and you supposed you were supposed to feel special. Alfie told you that.

He’d also told you that he specifically asked his brand partnerships not to invite you alongside him as a plus one. That was an accident that came out mid-screaming-match. You knew it was an accident by the look of tormented horror on his face after he’d shouted it.

You’d never felt so betrayed. It probably showed in your face, because your rage dissipated and what took forefront was pure, unadulterated heartbreak.

He tried to justify it, saying that sometimes you were too much in public, that you created problems over the smallest things, but of course it didn’t smooth over well.

You’d locked yourself in the bathroom that night, and at one point he’d lost his temper, saying you had no one to blame but himself.

It was only until a podcast episode released a month later that you truly lost your shit.

“So, AB, how's your Mrs?”

“It’s all good, all good. She’s been having a bit of a mare recently so I’m treating her this week. Going out for dinner, breakfast in bed.”

“Why are you actually a good boyfriend?” Chip had laughed in shock.

“Bro, why would I not be? I love my gal, she’s my rock.”

“That’s mad cute, y’know. I’m happy for you, bro.”

You’d stormed downstairs into the living room, chucking your phone at him with such force it made a sound as it slapped his stomach.

“‘A mare’?!” You screamed, “I’m having a ‘mare’ because of you! Because you’re not loyal!”

“Oh, grow up, Reader!” Alfie scoffed, shoving your phone to the side with the same ease he used to discredit your feelings, “I’m loyal to you, you’re just too blinded by insecurity to see it!”

“I’m only insecure because of you! You don’t make things any easier, you know that?!”

“I’m not doing this tonight.” He huffed, pinching his nosebridge, “Can you go and calm yourself down upstairs please?”

You scoffed at his audacity, “No! I’m so sick of the way you make this out to be,” You gestured between the two of you, “You are not this perfect boyfriend you make yourself out to be! You’re not an angel, Alfie! You’re a fucking dickhead!”

“You’re no angel either, Reader!”

“You made me this way!” You shrieked, “I was never like this before! You did this to me! I should go and tell them all what you’re really like!”

“Oi!” He barked, standing now, towering over you as his hand reached out, snatching up your jaw.

The pad of his thumb and fingers pressed into your cheeks, squeezing them together as he held you close.

Your own hand came up to clutch at his wrist, glaring up at him through teary eyes.

“You wanna go make a statement? Do it. Go on, tell the internet how horribly I treat you, because it’ll only come out that you’re just as bad.”

“I’m not bad.” You whimpered, “I’m not. You made me bad. You made me like this.”

“No, Reader, I didn’t. You just found it out about yourself and can’t handle it.” He hissed, pressing his nose to your temple as he seethed, “Pull yourself together, suck it up. You’re no angel. We both know that.”

“I never said—“

“Listen to me when I’m talking.” His voice was a low growl.

You swallowed thickly, skin tingling under his grip as you nodded.

“Talk about me online, tell them about the times I made you bleed, and I’ll talk about the bruises you gave me. Remember that?”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, weak and trembling, “You hit me first.”

“You screamed in my face, Reader. I had to push you back.”

“You slapped me. You cut my lip.”

“And you left my collarbones black and blue.” He retorted with a snap, “We’re both not perfect, so stop your whinging, sort yourself out, and get ready.”

“For what?”

“I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“Why?” You croaked.

“So you stop feeling like shit.”

The kiss he pressed to your cheek lingered like a slap. He’d placed it there like a rolling pin to dough, to smooth it out. To shut you up, essentially.

And it worked.

i watched it get dark, i'm playing it tough

userone where’s reader in the vids AB?

usertwo anyone noticed he doesn’t show his gf anymore?

userthree she also just doesn’t post on her socials anymore …

userfour wtf?? that’s so weird.

userfive bet he’s a cunt to her irl, wouldn’t surprise me

usersix the amount they’re on and off? i feel like they’re both a problem lmfao

It didn’t feel great to have people speculating their own opinions on his relationship, but it was public, so maybe he shouldn’t have assumed it wouldn’t have happened.

And they were right. You had been less of a presence online, mainly due to the fact that you were just drained.

Posting felt like a chore, because the only bit of peace you had in your life was those few hours alone after a cool down from a heated argument between you and Alfie, and why would you want to spend that time subjecting yourself to possible online scrutiny?

Alfie was fantastic at holding up the front. He posted as normal, regular, enthusiastic uploads, he kept in contact with his fans, uploading nearly every hour on his Snapchat story, and continued to appear in Fellas Podcast episodes.

You wondered how it was so easy.

Was the state of your relationship not tearing him apart as it did to you? Was it not weighing on his mind and making him second guess everything ever? You didn’t get it. He moved through life like everything was meaningless and nothing mattered except producing content.

“Y’need to post on Insta, darlin’.” Alfie whispered one night, his breath fanning against the bare skin of your shoulder.

His fingers were dancing shapes along your hipbone, sweaty arm clinging to the expanse of your back as you laid naked in each other's hold.

“Why?” You hummed.

“People are saying things online, they think I’m treating you badly.”

“Oh.”

“Mmm.” His voice rumbled through the dark. “… You know I’m not, right? And if I am, I don’t mean to be. You just … bring out the worst and best of me.”

“I know.” Your response was a weak whisper, barely there despite the silence in the room.

“You gonna post for me? How about a picture of that date we went on last week, hm? That was nice. You looked real pretty in those.”

You couldn’t help it, heat rose to your face, concentrated in the apples of your cheeks and you suppressed a smile at his compliment.

“Okay.”

“Good girl. Do it tomorrow, yeah? Too late now.”

And you did.

After waking up and going about your morning routine, you posted a little photo dump to your account, mostly consisting of snapshots Alfie had taken on your fancy dinner date. The restaurant was luxurious, far more expensive than what you were used to from your boyfriends in between. But that was Alfie’s tactic. Show you what you could have if you just listened, if you just behaved.

Once it was posted, he added it to his story, making sure to include all the slides where images of the two of you were present. He even went as far as to add them to a highlight dedicated to you.

You had no idea when that appeared, but it was there, and it was the only highlight he had.

If you were an outsider, a fan, you would’ve deemed it as romantic. But you weren’t, and you knew what it was.

It was a signal of ownership.

the worst that could happen is happening to me

You were stuck.

You realised it one night when you were curled up in his arms, his breathing heavy as he dozed off behind you while you laid wide awake, coming to an epiphany.

No matter what you did, no matter what he did, you would always come back to each other.

It would take actual death to rip you two apart forever, and you couldn’t tell if that was damning, or fortuitous. Maybe it was a mix of both. Besides, it wasn’t like two facts couldn’t co-exist.

For example, fact one, you loved Alfie Buttle, and he loved you. Fact two, you brought out the most evil forms of each other. Co-existing.

Fact one, you would do anything for each other. Fact two, together, you were a complete and utter catastrophe. Co-existing.

Fact one, you worshipped Alfie. Fact two, your relationship with him is the worst thing that ever happened to you. Co-existing.

There was no leaving him. There was no leaving this bond formed over raised voices, instability and a loving cuddle.

And the same went for him too.

He could see other girls, hold their hands, kiss them, fuck them, but you would always be in the back of his mind (sometimes forefront). This was a reality neither of you could escape, and you were in far too deep to even try.

another round of shots, for the boys on TV

You were thankful for the boys being around for the evening. Alfie tended to be nicer around other people, more lenient, meaning you wouldn’t lose your voice screaming back at him when they were gone.

He’d very politely requested that you sort out drinks and snacks for them, to which you complied with a kiss on his lips, asking him to compile a list of all the stuff he wanted before going out and getting them the morning of his get-together.

When you came back to the apartment, Alfie told you they’d all be here soon, and so you rushed to prepare the food. You laid it all out nice and cute on a little platter that was lined with bows painted onto the ceramic, thinking it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

You left the beers out on a placemat on the coffee table so they all had free reign of that, and you waited hand on foot on your boyfriend. Whatever he wanted, you gave.

He wanted more drinks, you whisked to the kitchen and back to bring them.

The boys were ready for the food to be served, you balanced the plates in your hands like an experienced waitress and left them on the side tables.

You were perfect for him.

i was an angel, but they madе me leave

“AB, your mrs is such a rocket.” Chip said.

It was all in jest, you knew it was in jest, the boys knew it was in jest, Alfie knew it too, so you had no idea why the energy in the room suddenly shifted.

“Chip!” Arthur exclaimed with a hearty laugh.

“Only joking, love.” He raised his hand at you, “You do look good though, nice outfit. But I’m sure AB tells you every day.”

He was clearly trying to brush the awkward moment over, realising that what he’d said was in poor taste, but Alfie wasn’t having any of it.

“Chip, stop talking.” Arthur snorted.

George got out through giggles, “Digging himself a bigger hole.”

You shared a look with Alfie, half expecting him to berate his mate in front of you. Instead, he stood, latching a firm hand around your forearm and dragging you out of the room.

In the kitchen, you spoke in hushed whispers.

“Are you trying to embarrass me?”

You faltered, “W-What?”

“Seriously, are you taking the fucking piss?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What did you expect when you’re dressed like that. Obviously they’re gonna thing you’re putting on a show for them. Are you thick?”

You glanced down at what you were wearing. Mini shorts, because it was sweltering outside today, and a halterneck that didn’t look overdone. You were dressed casually, and yet there was something wrong with it.

“I didn’t think—“

“Yeah, that’s your fucking problem.” He hissed, “You never think.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing, Alf.”

“Don’t.” He growled, dipping his head and pressing his nose to your temple intimidatingly, “Don’t make me raise my voice. Is that what you want? You want me to embarrass you the way you’ve done to me.”

You shook your head, pursing your lips as your lower one began to tremble — nearly vibrate — with the force you were using to will yourself not to cry.

“It’s not nice is it? Feeling humiliated.”

“I’m sorry.” You croaked, “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“Mmm, bet you are.” He stepped back before hooking your chin in his palm again, using his large, rough hands to wipe your tears, “C’mere, c’mere.”

Shakily, you exhaled, leaning into his touch like it was going to fix it all. But you couldn’t stop the tears. Once you got like this, it was difficult to halt until you’d properly cried it all out.

“Reader, stop. Stop crying.” He hissed. “Wipe your tears, stop— Don’t make me fucking shout at you to stop crying like you’re a child.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You sniffled, turning away and using the backs of your hands to wipe at your face.

“Go upstairs for tonight, yeah?”

“What?” You whimpered.

“Don’t argue, just do it, ‘kay? Don’t need any of this drama.”

With a choked sob, you nodded.

“Cheers. Love you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving, going back to his friends.

With slow, laboured steps, you made your way up the stairs and to your joint bedroom.

You were being banished, essentially, because Alfie’s feelings had gotten a little hurt over a comment his best mate had made.

You had been perfect for him all day, doing the things he wanted, buying the things he needed, sorting it all out just so he didn’t have to.

You were an angel, his angel, and he’d still made you leave.

This relationship was really starting to feel like a humiliation ritual.

It was like he was testing how many times he could make you cry before you finally told him you were sick of it.

And you were, but you would never say it.

Because you needed him.

You needed him like the air you breathed and the water you drank.

Without Alfie, you were a shell of yourself, and that was made abundantly clear every time you went on a break. You were barely able to hold yourself together on those days, and the only reason you did, was because of the lingering hope that he was going to take you back any time soon.

with stars in my еyes

You clutched your hands to your chest, your palms wrapped tight around the necklace he’d gifted you at the very start of your relationship. When you were nervous, you toyed with it. When you were distressed, you clutched onto it.

Your breath caught in your throat, and suddenly, you felt like you were under water.

You fell back onto the bed, curled into a ball on your side, hand pressed to your mouth as you suppressed your sobs.

Air refused to enter your lungs, and they started spasming. Panicked hiccups escaped your mouth, and as much as you tried to sit up, you just couldn’t. You were exhausted, your body was tired, you needed rest. Not this.

You hadn’t meant to embarrass him, of course you hadn’t, you would never dream of it, but you had, and this was the price you had to pay.

No comfort, no warm hug. Just the cold shoulder while he enjoyed the football downstairs and you struggled to breathe in his bed.

The room around you began to spin, and it felt like an awful, never-ending experience on the tea cups.

Your eyes zoned in on a photo frame of you and Alfie on his bedside table. You were so happy in that picture that it made your heart ache to think of what your relationship had become What used to be a burning flame of love, was now a tiny, pathetic spark that tried to burn through the dark soot and ash that covered it.

It was the darkening of the edges of your vision that made you realise you needed to get a grip.

Alfie was right, you needed to grow up. You needed to grow up and stop crying, because this was ridiculous.

The stars in your eyes were pointless, they were fixing nothing, and it certainly wouldn’t do any good if you were passed out over an argument.

Your brain tried to think of anything, absolutely anything but the situation at hand,

The issue was, all that was ever in your mind was Alfie.

Everything reminded you of him.

Alfie, Alfie, Alfie.

crying as i wheel, as i hit the lake, i prayed it'd be green

You needed to let him go.

Not tonight, not in front of his friends, but you needed to leave.

This relationship was weighing you down, it was staining you like blood to a child’s hands, and you needed to be clean.

It wouldn’t go down lightly, and it would take a lot of work, but you would get there someday, you just needed him to go.

You needed your old self back.

She would’ve laughed at you now, called you pathetic and told you to stand up, but she hadn’t been broken down piece by everlasting piece.

Or maybe you didn’t have to leave him.

Maybe you could sort this out together.

It wasn’t like every waking moment of your relationship made you want to go crashing into a lake in a car. There were times that made your heart beat just a little bit faster, and your stomach twist with bashful butterflies.

Those moments were worth salvaging.

it's all that i need

But you’d never be normal again.

You’d never be you again, and that’s all you really wanted. All you needed.

There were a million different paths you could go down, half of which included leaving Alfie and continuing to be loveless. The other half meant sticking with him, encouraging him to get better with you, and progress into what could be something beautiful.

You knew he’d be up for it, of course he would. He wanted you to stay just as much as you wanted him to.

But then it was the afterthought.

You’d never be you again.

You’d never get what you really need.

Unless it’s Alfie.

Maybe Alfie was everything you could ever need and more. He had the ability to take away your spark, surely he could give it back, and vice versa.

i deserve it, i think

Alfie was right in all the times he told you you weren’t completely innocent in this relationship dynamic.

You’d done things, terrible things. You’d laid your hands on him too, screamed in his face too, hurt him too.

All the pain that had happened, the pain that had only increased as the months and years progressed, perhaps it was all your fault.

Instead of calming him down in those moments, you fell to his level.

Instead of remaining stable and certain, you became insecure and wilting.

Everything he’d done, was because you enabled him to. You hadn’t stopped him, you’d become just as bad as him. So, maybe you couldn’t complain. Maybe you deserved this mental agony as much as he deserved whatever mistreatment he got from you in response.

It was an endless circle, it really was, and it was never going to break.

Not unless one of you were going to do something about it.

And that was never going to happen.

You were both too reliant on each other. You brought each other a sense of homeliness and joy that could never be replicated in another person, and for that reason, you would never let go.

And neither would he.

i loved an angel and it made me weak

The first time the two of you broke up, it had been under your terms.

You were stronger back then, and he’d raised his voice at you once, called you a few too many names that crossed your line, and you called it quits.

But to him, you were still perfect.

You were still everything.

He’d come crawling back like a pathetic little dog, kneeling at your feet and clutching the back of your thighs, holding you close. He’d pressed his forehead to your stomach, kissing the skin beneath your navel and uttered about how much he loved you and how much he couldn’t let you go.

“I need you, angel. You … God, you’re so perfect. I’ll never shout at you again, I promise.” He’d croaked, tears welling his eyes and nose reddening.

i am punished by love

You’d taken him back, even going as far as to drag him into your bedroom and lay with him while he collected himself.

You traced the moles on his chest and arms while kissing the ones on his face.

They were such beautiful marks, all coming together to form the image of the man you loved and cherished so dearly.

This was just the beginning.

You thought the one break up was bad, and you wished you could’ve gone back to being so naive.

For as long as you were both alive, he would never let you go.

You were his angel, and he didn’t care if loving you made him weak.

i am punished by love

The love you had for each other was so strong it was almost damning.

Almost.

The open wound on your face, the split on his knuckles, really equated to nothing because at the end of it all, the adoration you shared for each other overpowered whatever hurdle this was.

You held a bag of peas to his abs, the mark of your heel forming on his skin in the evidence of a purple welt, all while he dragged an alcohol wipe over the slice in your cheekbone.

His ring had cut you, and he didn’t mean for it to happen. He hadn’t meant to make you bleed, he just needed you to stop screaming in his face, because in all fairness, you were scaring him a little.

Your meltdown had come out of nowhere, and what had started as a petty argument, became a violent fight in a matter of minutes.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke first, dragging his thumb over the shallow cut.

“I know. I’m sorry too.” You replied.

“I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

“I shouldn’t have screamed at you and kicked you.”

“Did I scare you?”

“When?”

“When I started punching the wall.”

You swallowed thickly, “A little.”

He sighed, nodding, “You scared me too. When you wouldn’t stop shrieking and crying, I mean.”

“Sorry.”

With a grunt, he wrapped his arms around you entirely, tugging you into his lap and holding you tightly.

Your feet kicked the litter of plaster-wrappers to the floor as you latched onto him tightly, hiding your face in his neck.

You were both equally as guilty in amping up the argument, and it descended into something it was never meant to be. Now, you were left with the aftermath. You had to have a sensible talk, like sensible adults, and come to a sensible conclusion.

Though, sense was neither of your strong points.

i am punished by love

“I love you!” You moaned, pinned to the mattress beneath him as his hips pinned your legs apart.

Your sweat-slicked bodies moved as one, his knees digging into the mattress as his hips thrusted with harsh fervour.

“I love you too.” He grunted, burying his face in your neck and making work of the skin there, sucking and sometimes biting when necessary.

This was the aftermath.

Always.

If either of you felt as though the words weren't enough, actions would ensue, and you’d end up in a state of undress, tangled amongst and within one another.

His hands took yours, removing them from his back and pinning them to either side of your head. His fingers pressed hard, leaving dents in the pillows from the force of his hands on top of yours.

“Don’t leave me, Alf.” You cried out, thighs trembling from where they were slung over his hips, “Never leave me. I need you.”

“Same.” He nodded, his floppy curls clinging to his forehead through sweat, “Same— I’m never leaving you, I couldn’t.”

His hips smacked into yours with an increase in purpose, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room and mixing with the sounds of your moans and his grunts. It could only be described as pornographic.

“I’m gonna cum.” He muttered, “In you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded rapidly, “God, please, Alf. Cum in me.”

“Okay, okay.” He pulled back, removing one of his hands from yours to pin your inner thigh flat to the bed.

This left you spread out an exposed, giving him more room to work in as he focused on the sight between your legs; him sinking in and out of your welcoming hole.

You whimpered as that blinding pleasure fizzled in your lower stomach, your hips bucking off the bed in desperation until you were both clattering to completion together.

His body collapsed on top of yours, the two of you a heap of tangled limbs and a puddle of sweat.

Finding the strength within him, he rested up on his forearm, using his fingers to brush back the baby hairs clinging to your face. His touch danced lightly of the scabbing slice on your cheek.

You brought your own hand up, placing it on top of his before kissing the inside of his wrist.

”You okay?” He panted.

“Never better.” You grinned.

“I meant it. I do. I love you. So much.” He cleared his throat, dropping a shy kiss to your lips.

“I know, and I meant it too.”

i am punished by love

Other men didn’t compare to Alfie.

It didn’t matter how many dates you went on, how many kisses you had, how many bodies you let sleep in your bed, you always found your mind drifting back to him, wishing he was there in the place of this guy you didn’t even really like.

Sure, he was funny, and good looking, but he didn’t fill you with half the amount of thrill that Alfie did.

He didn’t fuck you to oblivion and hold you with the most utmost care after.

He didn’t shout at you and make you match his volume just for the fun of it.

And maybe that’s what you really missed.

The adrenaline rush you’d get from arguing with him, throwing a few petty slaps about. Never enough to cause a mark, never enough to leave either one of you whimpering in pain, but just enough to raise your heart beat and keep blood pumping.

You craved the adrenaline.

It was a pain to be loved by Alfie, but it was also a pain to do the loving.

You were tied to him, bound, for life.

Your love for him would always surpass that of any other man, or rather, any other person.

The man sat across from you at this fancy restaurant would never thrill you like Alfie did. He would never compare. You were wasting his time, and your own, but you had no other choice.

Alfie had sacked you off again, finding himself a warm body to busy himself with rather than reminisce on the memories of the relationship he let go of so easily.

But he’d be back.

He always was.

And so were you.

The pair of you would continue crawling back to each other, even if it meant pressing firm palms into hot coals, or dragging limp limbs across broken glass, or maybe even stepping your bare feet into a pit of needles.

You’d go to hell and back, as long as you were together, it didn’t matter who got hurt in the crossfire.

i loved an angel, and it made me weak

Alfie had had a good thing going with this girl, and he’d let it all go for you.

You’d called him in the middle of night, sobbing down the phone, hyperventilating nearly, and all he could make out were the words ‘bleeding’ and ‘broken’, and he was out of bed.

His girlfriend had called out for him, but all he’d done was tell her to be gone by the time he came back, because he didn’t have time to deal with her if you were injured.

You were his priority, forever and always.

When he’d picked you up, he’d found you clutching your nose, blood spilling from it at a drastic rate.

His mind ran crazy, knuckles turning white as he clutched the steering wheel with a grip tighter than he’d ever done before, turning with jerky moments. He was going to kill whoever did this to you.

Thankfully, his girlfriend had listened, and was gone when he came back.

He brought you to the sofa, rushing around to collect the right equipment before returning to your side and fixing you up.

You couldn’t speak through your tears, and so he didn’t make you, only rubbing your knuckles with a soothing touch with one hand, while using the other to gently dab the blood away from the lower half of your face.

“Okay, good news, it’s not broken.” He said, “Just bleeding a lot. Bad news … you’re gonna have to tell me what happened.”

And you did.

Through spluttering sobs, you managed to recall the scenario that lead your boyfriend into hitting you and the moment where you sat on the front doorsteps and called Alfie.

His jaw was clenched the whole time, listening to your story. His thumb swiped under your eye, collecting tears as they fell, not wanting your face to be anymore the painting of distress than it already was.

He held you until you fell asleep.

Your cheek smushed into his chest, lips parted and drooling slightly as you slept soundly within his hold.

You always did drift off better around him.

He was careful in lowering you to the sofa, not wanting to disturb your slumber and cause you anymore upset.

The last thing he did before leaving was drape a blanket over you.

He couldn’t remember the journey to your ‘boyfriend’s’ house, but he was in his living room before he knew it, splitting his knuckles open over a guy who thought he could treat you like utter garbage.

A mixture of both of their blood was left on the floor afterwards, though mainly your boyfriend’s (hopefully now ex). His face was a picture perfect image of hanging on by a thread.

He’d been beaten within an inch of his life, and he was lucky that Alfie had too much to lose to actually finish the job off. But he was sure he could find somebody.

That night, he returned to his apartment, washing his fists and ridding his skin of the crisping blood of another man. He washed evidence of his emotional weakness away, before slipping his arm under your legs and behind your back, carrying you upstairs and sliding into bed beside you.

His arms came around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head, littering kisses into your hair until, eventually, he was too tired to do so.

i loved an angel, and it made me weak

Loving you made Alfie weak.

Loving Alfie made you weak.