ex bf! alfie x female reader
warnings: abusive relationship, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, angst, bruises/injuries, mentions of sex, swearing, toxic behaviour
a/n: hi angels <3 long time no write.. and ofc i come back with angst😭 hope you like this one, love you always.
you don’t realise how much of your life was built around someone until they’re not there anymore.
six whole months since alfie walked out of your life like it was nothing more than a decision he could just.. make and be done with.
“i need to focus on my life,” he’d said. “my career.. everything.”
you didn’t even fight him the way you should’ve. you didn’t scream or beg or throw anything. you just stood there in his flat that you shared, your arms folded tight across your chest like you were physically holding yourself together.
“if that’s what you want,” you’d said.
your new flat wasn’t bad.
it was actually nice enough.. small, but a clean, decent area, not too far from everything. you told yourself it was a fresh start. something that was fully yours.
but it never really felt like home, it just felt.. quiet.
you met him not long after.
and at first, it felt good. easy. like a distraction you didn’t even have to try for. he texted you all the time, wanted to see you constantly, asked questions about where you were and who you were with.
you thought it meant he cared.
it started with little things. it always does.
“why didn’t you reply?” “who were you with?” “why were you laughing like that with him?”
you laughed it off at first, brushing it away thinking he was just a bit jealous.
“you’re overthinking,” you’d say.
but he wasn’t overthinking.
he was watching you like a guard.
they were loud and messy. in public as well, which made it worse. people were turning their heads, pretending not to listen while he raised his voice at you over nothing.
“can you not do this here?” you’d whisper, embarrassed.
“do what?” he’d snap. “i’m just talkin’ to you.”
it was never just talking by the way.
the first time he hit you, you didn’t even fully register it.
you’d been in the kitchen arguing about you going out with emily, your best friend, and he just, lost it.
his hand came down on your arm, hard.
“..did you just hit me?” you asked, genuinely confused.
“i didn’t mean to,” he said quickly. “you just- you were windin’ me up.”
but he said it so quickly, so convincing, that you ended up apologising.
after that it got easier for him.
and harder for you to leave. because every time it happened, there was an excuse.
you made him angry you said the wrong thing you looked at someone the wrong way
and every time, he’d calm down after, pull you close, mumble a half apology, and kissed your head like it fixed anything.
and you stayed.. because somehow, in your head, leaving felt harder than staying.
she sees you basically every day, so it didn’t take long.
“what’s that?” she asked once, grabbing your wrist gently when your sleeve slipped.
you pulled it back quickly. “nothing i banged it.”
she didn’t say anything straight away though. she just watched and paid attention.
the way you checked your phone constantly. the way your mood changed depending on who texted. the way you flinched sometimes.
and then one day, she saw the bruise on your collarbone.
you hadn’t even realised it was visible.
“reader,” she said, voice different this time. serious. “what the fuck is that?”
“i told you, i’m clumsy-”
meanwhile, alfie is doing the exact opposite of dealing with anything.
he’s out most nights. with different girls in different places but.. same outcome.
meaningless sex, drinks, laughter that doesn’t really mean anything.
he tells himself he’s fine. that this is what he wanted.
but it’s not hitting the same. like, at all.
he’ll be in the middle of making out with someone, touching someone, literally having sex, and his brain just.. goes somewhere else.
your laugh. your voice. the way you’d look at him like he was everything.
and he hates it. so he just does more of it, trying to drown it out.
that night, it’s the same.
there was some girl in his bed, talking too much, asking questions he’s not even half arsed about answering. he’s half dressed, already bored, when his phone lights up.
answer your fucking phone alfie
“what?” he says, running a hand through his hair. “why are you blowin’ up my phone?”
“where have you been?” emily snaps immediately. she sounds stressed. angry. “i’ve been calling you for ages.”
“i was busy,” he mutters, staring back at the girl in his bed. “what’s going on?”
he straightens instantly. “what about her?”
his stomach drops a bit. “what do you mean not okay?”
“i mean not fucking okay, alfie,” emily says, her voice shaking now. “i didn’t know if i should tell you but i can’t just sit here and do nothing anymore.”
“tell me what?” his tone’s sharper now. impatient, but underneath it there’s something else creeping in.
emily exhales. “her boyfriend.”
it’s like something in alfie just snaps.
“he hits her,” emily repeats, slower this time. clearer. “i’ve seen the bruises on her arms, her shoulders, i think even her ribs. she keeps making excuses but it’s obvious.” her voice crack slightly.
alfie’s jaw clenches so hard it hurts.
“how long has this been goin’ on for?”
“i don’t know exactly. a couple months at least. maybe three.”
three months someone’s been putting their hands on you.
“why didn’t you tell me earlier??” he snaps.
“because she’d hate me for it!” emily shoots back. “and i didn’t know how bad it was at first. but it’s getting worse. she won’t leave him, alfie. she keeps defending him.”
he’s already standing up, grabbing his joggers.
“at her flat, i think. but-”
and calls you immediately.
“fuck,” he mutters, pacing.
because your phone’s on the floor.
because your boyfriend’s screaming at you.
because his hand is in your hair, dragging you across your own fucking flat.
“you think i’m stupid?” he’s shouting. “you think i didn’t see you flirting with him?”
“i wasn’t!” you cry, trying to pull away. “i literally wasn’t doing anything—”
he yanks harder and you stumble, your knees hitting the floor as he drags you towards the bedroom.
your heart is racing, panic setting in properly now.
“please—” your voice breaks, “please stop—”
he never does once he gets like this.
he’s gone out like nothing happened.
you’re on the floor with your back against the wall and your hoodie pulled around you, trying to breathe properly.
your head, your ribs, your face.
you reach for your phone eventually.
your chest tightens immediately.
you stare at his name for a second.
he answers so fast it almost startles you.
you try to speak but it comes out as a sob instead.
he goes quiet for half a second.
then, “hey.. hey, what’s happened? talk to me.”
“i didn’t see your calls,” you admit, your voice breaking. “i’m sorry—”
“don’t apologise,” he says immediately. “just tell me what’s going on.”
“he gets angry over nothing,” you say, words tumbling out. “like literally nothing, alfie. if i don’t reply fast enough, if i go out, if i look at someone he just.. loses it.”
“and at first it was just shouting,” you continue, wiping your face. “like really bad arguments, in public as well, he doesn’t care. and then one day he just—”
“where?” he asks quietly.
“my arm, the first time. but then it just—” your voice cracks again. “it kept happening. not every day but.. still, enough. he always says it’s my fault after. that i push him or i wind him up or something.”
“it’s not your fault,” alfie says immediately, his voice firm.
you ignore that, because you don’t fully believe it.
“today was worse,” you whisper. “he thought i was flirting with someone outside a shop. i swear i wasn’t even talking to anyone alfie, you know me, and he just.. he dragged me inside and-”
“he hit me again. like really hard. and i just.. my face is swollen and it hurts..”
you can hear his breathing.
“i don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice small now. “i feel stupid. i should’ve left ages ago but i just.. i don’t know. he makes me feel like it’s my fault and then he’s nice again and i.. i don’t know.”
alfie’s grip on his phone is so tight it’s almost shaking.
“you’re not staying there,” he says.
and then there’s a voice in the background.
“alfie? are you coming back?”
of course there’s someone there, why wouldn’t there be?
“sorry,” you mumble. “i didn’t realise you were-”
“no, it’s not like that..” he starts, moving away quickly, but you cut him off.
“it’s fine,” you say, even though it’s not. “you don’t owe me anything.”
that hurts him more than anything you said before.
“where are you?” he asks instead.
“i do,” he cuts in. “i’m coming. just… wait for me, yeah?”
you’re outside when he gets there.
you didn’t want to stay inside any longer than you had to.
you have your hoodie on, legs bare, and your arms wrapped around yourself.
his car pulls up and for a second you just stare at it.
he glances at you and it hits him properly.
you look the same. but also… not.
“what the fuck,” he mutters under his breath when he sees your eye properly.
“swear to god i’ll kill ‘im.”
you hesitate and then slowly, you do.
there’s bruises, marks, everything.
he looks like he might actually cry, but he blinks it back, jaw tight.
“how long has this been goin’ on angel?”
he nods slowly, gripping the wheel.
“you’re not going back there.”
his place feels the same.. which makes everything feel worse somehow.
he doesn’t make it a big thing though.. he just… takes care of you.
“you take the bed,” he says. “i’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“i don’t wanna be alone.”
you’re in his bed again, six months later.
you’re facing away at first, not really sure what to do and he gives you space.
until you shift closer slightly and he follows, slowly, like he’s giving you time to stop him.
his arm settles around you, gentle, careful.
you finally breathe properly.
“he’s not gonna touch you again,” alfie says quietly. “i swear.”
and for the first time in months, you let yourself hope.
he should’ve never fucking left you in the first place.
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