#walblurb

blurb continuation from the watch and learn series

Your toddler has officially started walking, and with walking comes grubby little hands wanting to explore everything.

One day, your daughter’s pulling out the contents of the closet in your spare room out onto the floor while you and Rafe sit with her on the hardwood, letting her have her fun.

She’s babbling as Rafe absentmindedly runs his hand up and down your back. He always does this, likely not even conscious that he’s touching you. You love it, how he intuitively needs to have contact with you.

“Be careful with that one,” he calls out to her as she yanks out a yearbook. When she promptly kicks it away, you giggle into Rafe’s chest, feeling him shake with laughter.

“She’s so destructive,” you say.

“Just like her mom,” he mumbles.

“I know you meant to say dad,” you scold.

“Hey, what’s this?” You laugh at Rafe’s attempt to distract you. He picks up a photo album you put together back when you first moved in.

He opens it to a random page, which happens to be a photo of you two at your college graduation.

“Your fuckboy hair,” you say, purposely shushing so she doesn’t overhear the swear word. Your eyes travel over his bangs peeking out beneath the black cap in the photo.

“You loved it,” he reminds you. You smirk, running a hand over the buzzcut he’s sporting now.

He flips to another page, full of photos from your post-college road trip. You point to a picture of him at a restaurant sitting in a booth.

“God, remember how dingy this place was?” you laugh.

“Only restaurant for miles,” Rafe groans. He can recall how much you two laughed over breakfast that day.

When you skim to another page, you see a photo of you two on the beach almost a year after getting married. You recall how you found out you were pregnant the very next day.

“Whatever happened to that shirt?” you ask, gazing at the open striped button-up he’s wearing in the captured memory.

Rafe points to your daughter.

“We were playing outside and I got a grass stain on it, remember?” he says.

Now you do remember. Your daughter was merely crawling at that point, but when she got too close to the concrete pathway, Rafe dove to grab her, ruining his clothes in the process.

“That was 100% on you,” you reply with a shrug. Rafe smirks. It’s true. In his eyes, his daughter can do no wrong.

When she tries to pull down clothes from the hangers in the closet, he jumps up to pick her up, kissing her cheek.

You watch your husband with a proud grin. He was once so afraid of affection and now he wears his heart on his sleeve. Only with you two, though.

Rafe meets your eyes and feels enamored by your smile like he always does.

“Thanks for putting that together, baby,” he says, glancing down at the album. He remembers the photos you had all over the walls of your college dorm. He always appreciated your sentimentality.

“Thanks for making me so happy that I wanted to,” you say sincerely. He leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Can you give a kiss, too?” he asks your toddler. She erupts in giggles at the way he holds her, swinging her above you as she plants a kiss on you.

“So nice!” you cheer, gently pinching her cheek.

Rafe straightens and squeezes her into a tight hug. Even now, years into your relationship, he wonders if he really truly deserves this happy of a life.

inspired by this ask! continuation blurb from the watch and learn series

Even when you’re arguing, Rafe opens and closes your car door for you. It’s a habit he started back in college after your first date and it stuck.

You step out of the SUV, both wearing scowls and semi-formal clothing, tension thick between you.

Your daughter kept you up last night. You’re both operating on just a few hours of sleep, which definitely contributed to your argument this morning.

You snapped at him about the mess he left in the kitchen, he snapped at you about how the mess wasn’t even a big deal, and since then, you’ve been ignoring each other.

You called him short-tempered. He called you stubborn. The babysitter arrived and the thirty-minute drive to your old college was filled with nothing but silence.

This isn’t how Rafe pictured Sigma Chi’s ten-year reunion. He wanted to bring the you that’s his best friend, not the you that rolls your eyes at him.

Maybe he was a bit harsh this morning. But so were you.

Being back on campus feels already feels a little like a blur, but once you step into the loud, full frat house, you’re disoriented. The nostalgia hits you hard.

Rafe immediately reverts into the loud, charismatic frat boy you fell in love with when he sees his brothers. You thought you’d have to fake your smile, still upset about the fight, but you’re genuinely happy once you’re around everyone again.

You make conversation and even though he’s mad at you, Rafe’s heart feels a little lighter as he watches you smile and chat and laugh with the guys you got to know so well over your college years.

He loves this about you. That you don’t let people see when you’re in a fight.

Sam shouts in greeting when he sees you. He stayed a good friend of Rafe’s after graduation, even coming to your wedding and your daughter’s first birthday party.

“He behaving?” Sam asks you, nudging Rafe.

“When has he ever behaved?” you quip, sharing your first smile with Rafe today.

“Can I steal him?” Sam says.

“Please do,” you tease. Sam laughs and pats Rafe’s back, leading him towards the back of the house to grab drinks.

You stand by the front window alone, looking out at the street, thinking back to how many times you walked up the pathway to the house once Rafe moved in.

Just a few feet away from where you’re standing was where he first propositioned you. I’ll let you practice whatever you want with me was what he said. And damn, did you two practice. You practiced until you fell in love with each other.

“How’s life treating you?” Sam asks Rafe, tapping his beer against his in cheers.

“Toddlers don’t like to sleep, man,” Rafe says. “At least mine doesn’t.”

“Neither did you back in college,” Sam laughs. “I remember seeing you two in the kitchen at four in the morning.”

Rafe chuckles. He remembers that night.

It was right after he moved into the house. You stayed after a party, hooking up in his new room, and ended up talking for hours in bed.

You eventually went downstairs, searching for snacks in the kitchen, whispering and giggling, waking Sam up, who was passed out on the couch.

Rafe had so much fun with you. He still does. Even the mundane shit is fun with you.

He hates that you’re in a fight. It’s stupid to waste time in an argument.

About ten minutes later, Rafe finds you in the living room. He’s holding a plate of food he made from the refreshments this year’s frat had set up.

“I shouldn’t have snapped,” he mumbles, holding the snacks out. Offering you some sort of gift has always been his favorite way to apologize. Well, after make-up sex.

“The mess wasn’t that big of a deal,” you say. All the irritation had left your body now that you’ve had time to cool down and reminisce about everything you’ve been through together. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you were dramatic,” Rafe jokes. You nudge his shoulder with a gasp, albeit smiling.

“We’re both just tired, I think,” you say.

“You haven’t eaten,” he says, pointing to the plate. You beam at him, taking a bite of the food. You took forever getting ready and didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast.

“I prioritized getting pretty,” you say.

“You’re always pretty. You know you’re a total milf, right?” he mumbles quietly. You laugh and kiss his cheek.

“You hitting on me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” he says with a smirk.

Another frat brother spots Rafe and comes over to make conversation. Others join in slowly, forming a small group.

A few minutes in, Rafe checks his phone instinctually to see if the babysitter has called.

One of his buddies notices his lockscreen. It’s a photo of you asleep with your daughter on the couch, your lips pursed in the same exact way.

“What a softie,” he jokes.

You look at Rafe and laugh as he gazes down at the photo with a smirk.

Ever since the night of the Sadie Hawkins formal, you’ve been his lockscreen photo. At first, it was the Polaroid of you. Then, it was you sitting up in his bed, smiling and wearing his baseball hat and Greek lettered t-shirt. He kept that one for ages. Eventually, it was your wedding photo.

Now, it’s his girls, the two most important people in the world to him.

After the reunion, you get into the car and notice Rafe isn’t turning the key in the ignition. He’s just staring down at the wheel, chest rising and falling slowly.

“I love you, okay, baby?” he says. “I don’t say it enough. But I do.”

“You say it in your own way all the time,” you console him. “You’ve always been more show than tell.”

“Can I show you, then?” he asks, dragging a hand over your thigh.

“Rafe,” you laugh. “Where would we even go?”

He points to the backseat with mischievous blue eyes.

“Been a while,” he says lowly. His voice, his gaze, his touch… He hasn’t lost his charm, even so many years later.

Rafe is thinking the same thing about you.

alternate sad ending to watch and learn series. based on this ask! takes place the day they’re at the beach in part eight

When Blake kisses you, everything you’ve been waiting and hoping for falls into place. His lips fit against yours perfectly, his hands hold your hips under the water so sweetly, and when you pull back, his smile melts your heart.

He’s slow and gentle with every move, making time stop.

When you’re back on the shore, he puts a warm, heavy arm around you, unafraid of showing you affection and claiming you in public. Unafraid of everything Rafe refuses to give you.

Conversation flows easy now, surely because he’s not shy about if you like him anymore. Now that he’s out of his shell, he’s even sweeter and funnier than you realized.

When Blake drops you off at your dorm, he turns off his car and takes a deep, shaky breath. You can tell he’s nervous by the way he smooths his hands over his legs.

“I wanted to tell you that I really like you,” he says. “And I’m sorry if I’m coming out of left-field here, but would you… do you want to be my girlfriend maybe?”

His nervousness is so damn endearing. This is what you’ve been missing with Rafe. Unashamed affection and a desire to commit. You breathe a happy yes and kiss him.

You’re in the shower when Rafe calls your name. You open the stall door with a confused expression, noticing how sad he looks, asking him what’s wrong.

He has already seen you naked so many times, but you hide behind the door. He can’t have this access to you anymore.

Rafe tries to push into the shower, desperate for one last time with you, but when your wet hand pushes against his chest, he swears he hears his heart break.

“We can’t do this anymore,” you tell him. “I’m with Blake.”

You think that if Rafe has any opportunity to tell you that he feels something deeper for you, now’s the time. But he just scoffs angrily, brows furrowing, shaking his head in disbelief.

By his reaction, you’re sure he’s just annoyed he can’t have great, easy sex with his neighbor anymore.

Rafe goes to the frat party that night, disgusted by the sight of you at Blake’s side. He’s grateful that a girl strikes up a conversation with him and he takes her home, fucking her the way you taught him to.

Eventually, though, he grows selfish and hasty in bed again once he realizes sex with someone he doesn’t feel connected to is empty.

Blake is overjoyed when you ask him to the Sadie Hawkins formal. Rafe doesn’t attend. But he sees the photo of you two together on Instagram and he wants to punch a wall.

You should have expected Rafe to be an asshole again after you stopped fucking around with him. You try to joke around with him every so often, but he always meets you with aloofness. You eventually give up.

You don’t know he’s so frigid because he’s dying inside watching you be happy with someone else.

He’s back to being loud in his dorm again, no matter how many times you text him to stop. You eventually tell the resident advisor who has to give him a warning.

Although he’s typically the loud one, Rafe hears you through your wall sometimes. He’s in agony when he hears the pretty laugh and sexy moans he used to earn. Someone else is making you do that now.

In a twisted way, he hopes you’re trying to make him jealous when you’re groaning in pleasure while you fuck Blake.

But it’s wishful thinking. Because you’ve genuinely written Rafe off and are falling for Blake, who’s sweet and sincere and kind to you.

Rafe moves into the frat house the next semester. He can’t even be happy that you don’t share a wall with him anymore because you’re always around.

Blake constantly has his arm draped around you. Rafe must hate himself, because he sometimes imagines you being like that with him. Being his girlfriend. He’d try the relationship thing with you if you wanted him.

But you don’t.

The spring camping trip is supposed to be frat brothers only. Of course you’re there, though. Blake wants you around all the time and he encourages the guys to bring their girls, too.

Everyone’s seated surrounding the bonfire the last evening of the trip and Rafe watches you on Blake’s lap, the flames shadowing and highlighting your beautiful features. What he’d give to kiss you one more time.

“You warm enough, baby?” Blake asks you. Rafe is seething. He used to call you baby. You don’t even seem to notice or give a fuck.

“Freezing. Hug me better,” you tease, smiling as he wraps his arms around you tighter.

Rafe has had too much to drink by the time the fire dies down. Everyone starts to retire to their cabins, but he catches you alone under the moonlight.

The feeling of his hand around your wrist makes the memories of your tryst come rushing back. He was such a good lover.

But you got what you wanted from each other. You have amazing sex with Blake because you learned how to be direct and confident in bed with Rafe.

“Hey,” he mutters lowly.

“What?” you ask, expecting his usual frigidity.

“Why’d you pick him?” He’s slurring.

“What?”

“It’s a simple question,” he replies.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” you tell him.

“Blake. Why’d you pick him? Why not…” He screws his lips together. “Me?”

“You?” you say, in disbelief. “For what? A relationship?”

Your tone cuts through him. Like the thought of loving him is so fucking crazy.

“You’re drunk,” you say with a laugh, twisting out of his grip.

“Tell me,” Rafe says.

“Rafe,” you mutter. He misses your voice saying his name. “Is this a sick joke? You told me at least a million times you don’t want a girlfriend. You’re losing it, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that,” he says through gritted teeth. Buddy. It’s so damn condescending. So far from what you once shared.

“What do I call you?” you reply. “A friend? You went back to treating me like shit once we stopped fucking, remember?”

“Because I was…” He steps back. Hot tears sprout out of his eyes without warning and he angrily wipes them away with the heels of his hands.

You’re taken aback to see him like this. To know you have this effect on him.

“I can treat you better,” Rafe says. “I can make you happier than he does.” In reality, he’s not sure at all if he can compete with Blake.

But he’d kill himself trying if you’d let him. He can see it in your eyes that you won’t.

The fact that he’s crying weakens the animosity you have for him a little bit. You decide to be totally honest.

“You had a chance,” you tell him. Rafe meets your eyes, his gaze hollow.

“You would’ve picked me?” he asks. Answering that feels almost like some form of cheating. So, you don’t.

“Listen, I love Blake,” you say. “And a relationship is a great thing if you open yourself up to it. You can find someone who can make you happy. I genuinely hope you do.”

Rafe huffs and brushes past you. You could make him happy. But he’ll never know that happiness.

It was bad enough hearing Rafe make a girl moan through your shared wall. It was ten times worse when Rafe texted you “his bad” for the noise.

Followed by an lol. What a douche.

If he’s trying to make you jealous, two can play at that game.

You go to an on-campus bar with friends the following Friday night when you bump into a guy you recognize from one of your lectures. Once you realize he’s hitting on you, his eyes trailing down your cleavage, you feel the exciting twist of arousal deep in your stomach.

You invite him to your dorm. He seems shocked you’re giving him a chance. It makes him even cuter.

Rafe just got home from a night at the frat house when he hears you laughing in the hallway. He figures you’re with a friend or on the phone. Until he hears a male voice under your giggles.

He hears the door shut. Then music. Then… damn it. You’re moaning.

He’d be turned on by the sounds you’re making if it wasn’t for the fact that another man was coaxing them out of you.

You’re on the other side of the wall, body buzzing while he uses his mouth on you. He needs some coaching, but he’s definitely skilled.

You’re exaggerating your moans a little bit, unsure if Rafe can hear. When you hear thudding on the wall, you know he can.

Rafe’s fist is burning as he knocks on the wall, trying to get you to quiet down. He wants to say he’s just annoyed that you’re being loud this late at night, especially after you’re so self-righteous about quiet hours, but he knows jealousy when he feels it.

And this is jealousy.

When you get on top, your moans aren’t as exaggerated anymore. You feel genuine bliss as you ride him, controlling the pace, feeling his hands on your hips.

He’s not a talker at all, so you can’t help but think of the things Rafe says during sex.

Suddenly, the knocking is on your door instead of your wall. You meet your classmate’s eyes and laugh with him, taking a pillow and covering your body with it as you answer the door.

Rafe is standing in the hallway, jaw tight.

“Check your phone,” he says. “I’ve been texting you.”

“I’m… kinda busy,” you laugh.

“Yeah, I can hear,” Rafe mutters. “I think everyone on our floor can.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you tease, hoping he gives it away that he is. When he looks away with a scowl, you’re pretty sure he is.

Rafe can’t take it anymore. He tilts his chin forward, straightening up as much as he can.

“She moans louder when she’s with me!” he half-shouts into your room.

“Rafe,” you scold, nudging his arm. He smirks at you and you shut the door, shaking your head.

After your classmate leaves, you check your phone to see the texts Rafe was talking about.

Rafe: happy for u that ur getting some but chill

Rafe: he cant be THAT good

Rafe: you know i can fuck you better

Rafe: CHILL ur so loud