#rempe 73

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 6  | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. PART FIVE HERE. 21,261 words

The Finale

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A/N: alright i'm not sure how well this flows, and its got a lot of build up that could probably be cut out, but i've been working on this draft for a month so here it is! thank you all so much for reading it and I swear when I revisit writing about Matthew Rempe it will be better and less parts lol. ENJOY IF YOU CAN! -alt

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It had been a few days since Matt left, and we’d barely talked. His hoodie had become a fixture in my wardrobe—not because I was making some grand romantic statement, but because it was comfortable, and maybe also because it felt like a small piece of him was still here. Still, the silence between us gnawed at me.

I was at the coffee shop near campus, pretending to study while nursing a lukewarm chai latte, when Rachel, Jessie, and Mae appeared. I glanced up just as Rachel sat across from me, her expression far too smug for my liking.

“Hi?” I said, confused.

“Don’t ‘hi’ us,” Rachel replied. “We’re here for answers.”

Mae and Jessie sat down on either side of me, boxing me in. My stomach twisted.

“Answers about what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jessie said, her tone light but determined. “We’ve been piecing things together. The hoodie, the airport, the guy Rachel saw picking you up from class—you’ve got some kind of secret life going on, and we want to know why.”

“It’s not a secret life,” I said defensively.

Mae arched an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you told us anything about this mystery guy? If he’s important enough to have you walking around in his clothes, shouldn’t we know who he is?”

“It’s not like that,” I muttered, tugging at the hoodie’s sleeves.

“Y/N,” Rachel said, her voice softer now, “we’re your friends. We just want to know what’s going on with you.”

“That’s the thing,” Jessie added. “You’re clearly into this guy—or at least he’s important to you. Why don’t you trust us enough to tell us about him?”

“It’s not about trust!” I snapped, louder than I intended. Heads turned at nearby tables, and I lowered my voice, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “It’s just…complicated, okay?”

Mae exchanged a look with Rachel, who leaned forward. “Complicated how?”

“I don’t know!” I said, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t even know what’s happening with him right now. We haven’t really talked since he left, and I feel like I’m stuck in this weird in-between where I don’t know if I’m his friend or…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

“Or something more?” Mae finished gently.

I dropped my gaze to my coffee, my fingers tightening around the cup. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Jessie sighed. “Y/N, we’re not trying to make you feel bad. But you’re obviously struggling with this, and we just want to help.”

“I know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not just my thing to share. He’s…he’s private, and his life is really different from ours. I don’t even know if I should be talking about him.”

Rachel’s expression softened. “Okay, we get that. But, Y/N, you don’t have to deal with this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

The table fell silent for a moment, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Mae broke it with a small smile. “Well, for the record, we still think he’s lucky to have you, whatever he is to you.”

I managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Mae.”

They let the subject drop after that, but the weight of their concern lingered. As I packed up my things to leave, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. They were only pushing because they cared, and here I was, keeping them in the dark.

I slipped out of the coffee shop, pulling Matt’s hoodie tighter around me as I headed home. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and for a moment, I thought it might be him. But when I checked, it was just a reminder for an assignment deadline.

With a sigh, I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

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That night, I lay in bed, staring at my phone. I’d stopped myself from texting Matt at least five times throughout the day, telling myself that if he wanted to talk, he would. But the silence was getting to me.

I sighed, rolling onto my side and pulling his hoodie tighter around me. Maybe he was just busy. The team’s schedule had been a mess ever since he left, and I knew they were dealing with rink issues, travel changes, and constant meetings. But still… it wasn’t like him to go this long without checking in.

Before I could overthink it any further, my phone vibrated.

Thursday, September 19, 2024 Today, 11:34pm

MATT: You up?

I blinked at the screen. Speak of the devil.

ME: Maybe. MATT: That’s a yes. ME: What’s up?

There was a long pause, and I could see the three little dots flicker on and off. Finally, his reply came through.

MATT: Just wanted to hear from you. It’s been a few days.

My stomach flipped at that.

ME: Yeah, I noticed. MATT: Sorry. It’s been nonstop since I got back.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I didn’t want to sound needy, but I also didn’t want to pretend like it hadn’t been bothering me.

ME: I get it. Just felt a little weird, that’s all. MATT: Yeah. Me too.

I frowned at the screen. Me too? What did that even mean?

ME: Weird how?

This time, the dots lingered for what felt like an eternity before disappearing. I sighed, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

But then—

MATT: I guess I got used to being there. Seeing you.

I swallowed, my pulse quickening.

ME: You were here for, like, two days. MATT: And?

I chewed my lip, trying to ignore the way my heart was beating way too fast.

ME: And… I guess I got used to it too.

The second I sent it, I wanted to throw my phone across the room. But before I could spiral too hard, his reply came in almost instantly.

MATT: So what are we gonna do about that, San Diego?

I stared at his message, my brain short-circuiting. What were we going to do about it?

I exhaled, shaking my head at myself. I wasn’t even sure what this was.

ME: I don’t know. You tell me.

A full minute passed. Then—

MATT: How do you feel about New York?

My breath caught. Was he serious?

ME: You mean, like, in general? Or…? MATT: No, I mean you. Coming here.

I sat up in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Was he actually asking me to visit? After weeks of dancing around whatever was happening between us, was this it?

ME: You want me to come to New York? MATT: Yeah. I do. MATT: Unless that’s weird. Is that weird?

I laughed out loud, shaking my head.

ME: You’re the one inviting me. You tell me if it’s weird. MATT: Not weird. MATT: Kinda feels overdue, actually.

I inhaled sharply, warmth creeping up my neck. He wasn’t wrong.

ME: You realize I have a whole life here, right? I can’t just drop everything and fly across the country. MATT: I know. I’m just saying… think about it.

I flopped back onto my pillows, staring at the ceiling. New York.

The idea of seeing Matt again—seeing him there, in his world—sent a rush of nervous excitement through me.

I didn’t know what this was between us. But maybe it was time to find out.

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The idea of New York lingered in my mind for the next few days. No matter how much I tried to focus on school, on my friends, on anything else, it was always there—this nagging little thought that wouldn’t leave me alone. I hadn’t given Matt an answer yet. Part of me wasn’t sure why. Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

Going to New York—seeing him again—felt like stepping over some kind of invisible line. And I wasn’t sure what happened once I did. Would we still be the same? Would it feel like those months of texting and late-night FaceTimes, or would it be different? And what if different wasn’t good? It was stupid. I wanted to see him. I just didn’t know if I was ready for everything that might come with it. I was mulling it over again when my phone rang.

Matt.

I hesitated for half a second before answering. “Hey.”

“You still thinking?” he asked, skipping the greeting entirely.

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

A pause. Then—“I miss you.”

I froze, gripping my phone a little tighter. He said it so easily, like it was just a fact. And maybe it was. My heart flipped. “You saw me a week ago.”

“Yeah, and?”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “You make things complicated, you know that?”

“I make things simple,” he countered. “You’re the one overthinking.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe.”

“So stop thinking,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Come to New York.”

I bit my lip. I could hear the distant hum of traffic behind him, the city moving at its usual breakneck pace. The sound sent a thrill through me. “I have school,” I reminded him, but it was a weak excuse.

“It’s one weekend.” I hesitated. “San Diego,” he said, softer now. “Just say yes.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I smiled. “Yes, Matt. I’ll come to New York.” He let out a triumphant yes on the other end, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t make me regret this,” I warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll look at flights tonight and let you know—”

“Yeah… about that,” Matt interrupted, a little too casually.

I narrowed my eyes, immediately suspicious. “Matt.”

“So, I may have already booked one for you,” he admitted, completely unapologetic.

I sat up straighter. “You what?”

“Well, I assumed you’d say yes,” he said, as if that was a completely reasonable explanation. “And flights were getting expensive, so I just figured—”

“You figured?” I repeated, incredulous.

“Yes,” he said, shameless. “Don’t act like you weren’t gonna come anyway.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Annoyingly, he wasn’t wrong. Still, I wasn’t going to let him get away with this that easily. “What if I had said no?”

“You wouldn’t have,” he said confidently. “But worst case scenario, I guess I’d be spending a suspicious amount of time in San Diego until you changed your mind.”

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re coming to New York,” he said, smug. “So, really, everyone wins.”

I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips. “Send me the details.”

“Already did.”

I glanced down at my phone, and sure enough, there was an email confirmation sitting in my inbox. Unbelievable.

“This is insane,” I muttered, clicking it open.

“Correction: this is happening,” Matt countered. “And you’re gonna love it.”

I shook my head, fighting back the warmth blooming in my chest. “Guess I better start packing, then.”

“Guess so,” he said. Then, a beat later, “Told you you’d say yes.”

I hung up on him. His laughter was still ringing in my ears.

I clutched my phone in my hand, staring down at the screen. I could finally stop wearing this oversized hoodie in all this summer heat just to feel like he hadn’t had to disappear. He hadn’t forgotten about me, hadn’t left me behind in the whirlwind of his life in New York. I was going to him. A grin broke across my face before I could stop it, warmth rushing through my chest.

“Okay, what just happened?”

I looked up to see Rachel and Mae standing a few feet away, both watching me like I’d just grown a second head. They must’ve just left their last class of the day, but whatever they’d been talking about before was clearly forgotten now.

Mae crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Five minutes ago, you looked like you were about to fight God. Now you look like you just won the lottery.”

Rachel tilted her head. “Did mystery guy finally text you back?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to reel in my expression. “Maybe.”

Mae scoffed. “Oh, come on.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You know, you’re really bad at being secretive.”

I sighed, pressing my phone to my chest. “It’s—he just… invited me to visit.”

Both of their eyebrows shot up.

“And?” Rachel prompted.

I hesitated for half a second before exhaling. “And I’m going.”

Mae’s jaw dropped. “Oh, now this is getting interesting.”

Rachel pointed at me. “So, let me get this straight. You won’t tell us who he is, but you will fly across the country to see him?”

I winced. “That… sounds bad when you say it like that.”

Mae just shook her head. “Girl, at this point, I don’t even care who he is—I just want to know what he is to you.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but for all the excitement bubbling up inside me, I still didn’t know how to. What was he to me? A friend. A secret. A boy who had somehow become a part of my life in ways I never saw coming. And now, I was about to find out what happened next.

"He's…" I started, then hesitated. My fingers tightened around my phone as I searched for the right words, the right way to explain something I barely understood myself. Rachel and Mae both stared at me expectantly, waiting. Finally, I exhaled. "Matt." Silence.

Mae’s eyes narrowed. "Matt what?"

Rachel’s expression flickered with realization first. "Matt—" She cut herself off, her jaw dropping slightly. "No way."

Mae glanced between us. "Wait, what? What am I missing?"

Rachel turned to her, then back to me, then exhaled like she was trying to put together a puzzle that suddenly made way too much sense. "Is he—?" I didn’t confirm or deny it. I just lifted my coffee cup to my lips, taking a slow sip like that would somehow make me invisible.

Mae let out a dramatic groan. "Oh, come on! What is happening? Someone explain!"

Rachel ignored her, still studying me with wide eyes. "You’ve been talking to him this whole time?"

I swallowed hard, then gave the tiniest nod. "Yeah."

Mae threw her hands in the air. "Okay, clearly, I am not connecting the dots fast enough here, but you are going to explain everything to us before you get on that plane."

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the secret I’d been carrying start to lift—just a little. Because for the first time since this all started, I wasn’t keeping Matt completely to myself anymore.

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By the time we got back to my apartment, I was exhausted from all the questioning. But I knew they weren’t going to let this go, and honestly, a part of me didn’t want them to. Keeping this secret had been weighing on me more than I realized. I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the couch as Rachel and Mae sat across from me, expectant.

“Alright,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Let me just…explain everything.”

Rachel crossed her arms. “Please do.”

Mae just nodded, eyes locked onto me like I was about to drop the most scandalous drama of the decade.

I took a deep breath. “So… it started with a wrong number.”

I went back to the beginning—the first text, the months of back-and-forth banter, the anonymous friendship that somehow became something real. I told them about finding out who he was, the New York trip, how we kept talking after that, and how he showed up here, right outside my class. They listened intently, not interrupting, not even exchanging their usual knowing glances. They let me tell it all—how I didn’t know what any of this meant, how confusing it was, how Matt had practically forced me to admit we weren’t just ‘texting buddies’ anymore. When I finally finished, Mae let out a long breath.

“So… you’re telling me,” she said, slowly, “that this entire time, you’ve been talking to, FaceTiming, and literally hanging out with a guy who—on a completely unrelated note—just so happens to be a professional hockey player in the NHL?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning?”

I groaned. “It’s not like that! I didn’t hide it on purpose—I just…” I hesitated. “I guess I didn’t know how to explain it. And I didn’t want it to turn into a thing.”

Rachel scoffed. “Y/N, it is a thing.”

Mae tilted her head. “Okay, but you call him Matt?”

I frowned. “Yeah…?”

Rachel let out a dramatic gasp, smacking Mae’s arm. “Oh my God, she calls him Matt.”

Mae turned to me. “You don’t call him Rempe?”

I blinked at them. “Why would I call him Rempe?”

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “Because everyone calls him Rempe. Fans, commentators, teammates—literally everyone.”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “Well… I call him Manhattan mostly.”

Rachel threw up her hands. “That’s even worse!”

I buried my face in my hands. “Why does it matter?”

“Because,” Mae groaned, “nicknames mean things.”

Rachel pointed at me. “And that means he lets you call him something no one else does.”

I stayed quiet, stomach twisting uncomfortably because… well, I didn’t really have an argument against that.

Rachel sighed. “So… you’re really going to New York?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Mae studied me for a long moment, then finally said, “And you’re okay with whatever happens?”

I swallowed, not quite sure of the answer myself. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I want to find out.”

Rachel and Mae exchanged one final glance before Rachel sighed dramatically. “Alright. But if you don’t tell us everything when you get back, we’re breaking into your apartment and demanding answers.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “Deal.”

Mae sat back. “And if he screws this up, we’ll personally fly to New York to fight him.”

I snorted. “I’ll let him know.”

Mae’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at it, silent for a second before looking up at me.

“So, are you all good to repeat all of that for Jessie?”

I groaned, flopping back against the couch. “Are you serious?”

Rachel snickered, peering over Mae’s shoulder. “She’s already on her way.”

I sat up, staring at them in disbelief. “You texted her while I was explaining everything?”

Mae shrugged. “I figured she’d want to be included. And she was the first one to put the pieces together, remember?”

I let out a long breath, glancing at the door like I could somehow stop Jessie from getting here with sheer willpower. “Unbelievable.”

Rachel grinned. “You better start warming up, because you’re about to do this all over again.”

I shook my head, but despite my frustration, I couldn’t help but smile a little. Because for the first time in days, things felt right again.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next couple of days passed in a blur. Between finishing up assignments, dodging more questions from Mae and Rachel, and figuring out how to pack for unpredictable New York weather, I barely had time to sit still. But the moment I stepped into the airport, the reality of what I was doing finally hit me. I was flying across the country. To see him.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I made my way to security. It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d been to New York, but this was different. This wasn’t a school trip. There was no group itinerary, no teachers guiding us from point A to point B. It was just me, boarding a plane to see Matt. I pulled out my phone as I stood in line, tapping out a message.

Saturday, September 28, 2024 Today, 8:19am

ME: I’m here. Getting through security now.

His reply came almost instantly.

MATT: Told you you’d make it. ME: I could still turn around, you know. MATT: You could. But you won’t.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. He was right. I wasn’t backing out now.

A few minutes later, I was through security and sitting at my gate, bouncing my knee as I scrolled absently through my phone. My mind wouldn’t stop racing. Would things feel the same in person this time? Would it be different now that there were no excuses, no random coincidences keeping us apart?

My phone buzzed again.

MATT: Safe flight, San Diego.

I smiled.

ME: See you soon, Manhattan.

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The flight was smooth, but my nerves were anything but. I spent most of it staring out the window, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. There was no denying that things felt different now. Before, there had always been this barrier—distance, schedules, bad timing. But now? Now, I was flying straight to him. No more excuses. When the plane finally touched down at JFK, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I pulled out my phone as I taxied to the gate.

Thursday, September 28, 2024 Today, 1:48pm

ME: Landed.

The dots appeared immediately.

MATT: Told you you wouldn’t turn around. ME: Still time to make a run for it. MATT: I’d just track you down.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. He wasn’t wrong. Grabbing my carry-on, I made my way through the airport, my heart hammering with every step. The closer I got to baggage claim, the more real this became. I scanned the crowd as I walked, not entirely sure what I was looking for.

And then I saw him.

Matt was leaning casually against a pillar, baseball cap pulled low, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie. But even with the hat, even in the crowd, he stood out. The moment his eyes found mine, his face split into a grin.

“San Diego,” he called, pushing off the pillar and making his way toward me. I barely had time to react before he pulled me into a hug—warm, solid, and way too easy. “You actually came,” he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I swallowed hard, my hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie for a second before I pulled back slightly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Matt looked down at me, something unreadable in his expression before he smirked. “You hungry? Because I already have a plan.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, do you?”

He nodded. “Obviously. I couldn’t risk you coming all this way and having a bad first meal in New York.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. “Alright, Manhattan. Lead the way.”

And just like that, I was here. In New York. With him. Matt took my bag without asking, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Then, with a tilt of his head, he led me toward the exit.

"Hope you’re ready for the full New York experience," he said as we stepped out into the warm night air.

I scoffed. "Please. I survived a weekend here before, remember?"

He shot me a look. "Yeah, but that was before you had me as your tour guide."

Before I could argue, he reached for my hand, fingers closing around mine as he weaved us through the crowd. My brain short-circuited for half a second, but I didn’t pull away. It wasn’t like we hadn’t touched before—he’d hugged me, pulled me into his side, even held my hand briefly when we’d made our escape to his rental car back in San Diego. But this? This felt different. Like maybe he didn’t have to hold my hand. Maybe he just wanted to. The second we stepped to the curb, a black SUV pulled up smoothly in front of us.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you—?"

"Yeah, yeah," Matt said, already opening the door for me. "Before you make fun of me, it’s just easier this way. Trust me, trying to get a cab around here is a nightmare, and I don’t think you’re ready for me to put you on the subway yet."

My stomach flipped, and I slid into the car before he could see the way my face burned at the idea. Pull it together. Matt took off his hat, hood, and sunglasses combo that he'd been using as what I assume is a disguise. Once we were both inside and moving, I turned to him. "So, what’s this all-important first meal you planned?"

He grinned. "I figured we’d go for the most elite, high-end dining experience this city has to offer."

I narrowed my eyes. "Matt…"

He leaned back against the seat, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Dollar slice, obviously."

I stared at him. "You flew me across the country to get gas station-level pizza?"

"Absolutely not," he said, feigning offense. "This is New York. Even the bad pizza is good. And if you’re gonna be here, you have to experience it properly."

I sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if it’s gross, I get to hold this over your head forever."

Matt just smirked. "Deal."

The ride was short, and soon enough, we were standing on the sidewalk outside a tiny pizza place, the smell of melted cheese and garlic hitting me immediately. The neon sign in the window flickered slightly, casting a warm glow on the pavement.

"Moment of truth," Matt said, handing me a paper plate with a massive, greasy slice on it.

I took a bite, my skepticism instantly melting away as the perfect combination of cheese, sauce, and crispy crust hit my taste buds.

Matt watched me expectantly. "Well?"

I chewed, swallowed, then sighed. "Annoyingly, that’s really good."

He laughed. "Told you." We ate on the sidewalk, leaning against the brick wall of the building as people passed by. It should’ve felt chaotic—cars honking, the distant wail of a siren, the hum of city life all around us—but somehow, standing there with Matt, it felt… easy.

"You’re not regretting this yet, are you?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

I glanced at him, the neon lights reflecting in his eyes.

"No," I admitted. "Not even a little."

His smile was softer this time, less teasing. "Good."

And just like that, New York didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. After we finished our slices, Matt crumpled up his napkin and tossed it into a nearby trash can with a lazy overhand shot. It bounced off the rim, and I snorted as it fell to the ground.

"Smooth," I teased.

"Okay, rude," he muttered, scooping it up and actually throwing it away this time. "I didn’t come here to be bullied."

I licked a bit of sauce off my thumb. "That’s literally half our friendship, Manhattan."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, nudging my shoulder lightly with his. "Come on, we’ve got more important things to do."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

"You’ll see."

I let him lead the way, the energy of the city buzzing all around us. We walked for a few blocks, falling into an easy rhythm, and I realized just how much I’d missed this—the banter, the laughter, the way being around Matt made everything feel a little lighter. Eventually, we reached what looked like a tiny convenience store tucked between two larger buildings. Its old, peeling awning barely hung on, and there was a faded chalkboard sign outside that read: Best dessert in NYC. Don’t argue.

I eyed Matt suspiciously. "First gas station pizza, now this?"

He grinned. "Trust me."

I followed him inside, where the overwhelming scent of sugar and fried dough immediately filled my nose. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at—bins of fresh pastries lined the counter, and behind the register, a man was rolling dough by hand.

"You ever had a zeppole before?" Matt asked, already pulling out his wallet.

I shook my head. "Can’t say I have."

Matt just smirked. "Then prepare to have your life changed."

A few minutes later, we were back on the street, each holding a paper bag filled with warm, powdered sugar-covered dough balls. I popped one into my mouth, and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head.

"Okay," I said after a moment. "This? This was a solid choice."

Matt beamed like he’d won something. "Knew you’d come around."

We wandered the streets as we ate, neither of us in any rush to get anywhere. The city had an energy to it that was impossible to ignore—bright lights, bustling sidewalks, the ever-present hum of life happening all around us.

Eventually, we made our way toward the waterfront, the skyline stretching out in front of us in all its glowing, chaotic beauty. Matt leaned against the railing, looking out at the view, and I couldn’t help but study him for a second—the way the wind ruffled his hair, the way the lights reflected in his eyes.

"So," he said after a moment, "do I get to know how long you’re staying?"

I hesitated, then sighed. "I mean, I don’t have a set plan or anything. Just… a few days, I guess?"

He made a face. "That’s it?"

I shrugged. "I do have a life back home, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. Then, a little quieter, "Just wish it was longer."

My stomach did an annoying little flip at that, but I ignored it, nudging him with my elbow. "Guess you’ll just have to make the most of it then, huh?"

Matt turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he smiled.

"Guess so."

As we stood by the railing, the city lights shimmering across the water, I felt Matt shift beside me. His shoulder brushed against mine, easy and familiar, and for a moment, it felt like we were in our own little world. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement—a group of guys sitting on a bench a little ways back, one of them holding up his phone.

My stomach dropped.

“Matt,” I muttered, forcing myself to keep my voice even.

“Hm?”

I subtly tilted my head in the direction of the group. “Don’t make it obvious, but I think those guys just took a picture of you.”

He let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Awesome.”

I saw his fingers twitch like he wanted to reach up and adjust his cap, maybe pull it lower over his face, but the damage was already done. The guy with the phone was grinning now, nudging his friends, showing them whatever was on his screen.

“Okay,” I said quietly, thinking fast. “We should probably go before this turns into a whole thing.”

Matt nodded once. “Yeah. Let’s move.”

We turned away from the railing, walking at a normal pace, but I could feel my pulse speeding up. I didn’t dare look back, but I could hear them talking now—low, excited murmurs. As we neared the street, Matt exhaled sharply. “I’m so sick of this,” he muttered under his breath.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, I just reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

His fingers tightened around mine instantly, like it was second nature.

"Come on," I said, tugging him forward. "Find a place we can duck into for a bit."

Matt didn’t let go of my hand the entire way there.

I led him down a quieter side street, my mind racing. The last thing I wanted was for some blurry, grainy photo of him to end up online with a caption that would send the internet into a spiral.

We turned a corner, and I spotted a small bookstore-café tucked between two buildings. Without hesitating, I pulled Matt toward it.

"In here," I said, pushing the door open. A little bell jingled overhead.

Matt followed me inside, the warmth of his hand still wrapped around mine. The place was quiet, mostly empty, except for a barista behind the counter and an older man flipping through a newspaper by the window. The scent of coffee and old books filled the air, and for the first time since I’d spotted those guys, I felt my shoulders relax.

"Nice choice," Matt murmured as we stepped further inside.

I glanced up at him. "You okay?"

His lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled. "Yeah. Just… annoyed."

I nodded. I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t fair—how he couldn’t just exist in public without someone trying to capture it.

He let go of my hand for the first time since we’d left the pier and ran a hand down his face. "You think they’ll post it?"

I bit my lip. "Probably. But maybe it'll just be a random, low-quality picture with no context. Like, ‘Oh look, I saw Matt Rempe in New York.’ It might not be a big deal."

He sighed. "Yeah. Maybe."

I nudged him lightly. "Want me to distract you? We are in a bookstore."

That got a small smile out of him. "What, you gonna make me pick out a novel?"

"Obviously." I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the shelves. "Come on, Manhattan. Let's find out if you have any taste."

His grin widened just a little. "Oh, this should be good."

For the next half hour, we wandered the store, poking fun at each other’s choices, flipping through random pages, and forgetting—for a little while—about the outside world. And when we finally left, stepping back out into the cool night air, Matt’s shoulders weren’t as tense, and neither of us checked over our shoulders.

Instead, he just bumped his arm against mine and said, "Thanks, San Diego."

And I smiled, because for once, I knew exactly what he meant.

As we stepped out of the bookstore, a sleek black SUV was already pulling up to the curb. Matt must have called it while we were inside. The driver barely looked up as we climbed in, and I buckled my seatbelt, glancing over at him.

"So," I said slowly. "How much do I owe you for the hotel?"

Matt turned his head toward me, one eyebrow lifting in amusement. "Hotel?" he repeated.

"Yeah?" I frowned. "Where you’re putting me up for the weekend?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Come on, you think I’d put you up in some shithole?" He leaned back against the seat, stretching his legs out. "I’ve got three bedrooms, San Diego. You’re staying with me."

I blinked. "Oh."

That should have been obvious, shouldn’t it? But it wasn’t like we’d talked about it. I just assumed he’d set me up somewhere else because that’s what made sense. I mean, sure, we talked all the time, and yeah, I was here to see him, but staying at his place felt… significant.

"You good with that?" he asked after a beat, watching me carefully.

"Yeah, of course," I said quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Just… wasn’t expecting it."

He smirked. "What, nervous to share a roof with me?"

I rolled my eyes. "You are like, six foot seven. If I wake up to you looming over me in the dark, I will scream."

Matt barked out a laugh. "Noted. I’ll keep my looming to a minimum."

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help but smile as I stared out the window. The streets of New York blurred past, the city lights glowing in the distance. This whole trip was already feeling surreal, and it had barely even started.

And now, I was staying with Matt.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my stomach flipped at the thought.

The car ride was mostly quiet after that, filled with the sounds of the city outside and the occasional glance Matt shot my way. I could tell he was trying to gauge whether I was actually fine with staying at his place.

I was. Probably.

Okay, maybe I was overthinking it, but who could blame me? It was one thing to text and call and FaceTime, to spend hours talking without the reality of physical proximity. It was another to step directly into his world—his city, his home.

The SUV pulled up outside a modern-looking apartment building in a quieter part of the city, the kind of place that had a doorman and security like that was just a normal thing people needed.

I raised an eyebrow. “This is you?”

Matt grinned as he slid out of the car. “Surprised?”

“A little.”

I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but somehow, this was… nicer? It was one thing to know he was a professional athlete, but stepping into his space made it real in a whole new way.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the entrance.

I followed him into the lobby, which smelled like expensive cologne and fresh flowers. The doorman greeted Matt by name, and I tried to ignore the way that made something twist in my chest. He belonged here. This was his world. A short elevator ride later, we stepped into his apartment, and—yeah, okay. I definitely hadn’t been prepared for this. The place was massive, especially by New York standards. Open floor plan, high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. It was modern but still felt lived in—a couple of jackets tossed over the back of a chair, a hockey stick propped against the wall, a half-empty water bottle on the counter.

“Well,” Matt said, setting my bag down by the couch. “Welcome to Casa de Rempe.”

I let out a low whistle, turning in a slow circle. “This is insane.”

He laughed. “I like to think of it as ‘comfortable.’”

“Right. Comfortable. Because most people’s apartments look like they belong in a magazine.”

Matt just smirked, walking toward the kitchen. “You hungry? I can order something, unless you wanna go out?”

I hesitated. “You sure it’s safe to go out?”

He turned, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “What, worried about getting mobbed by my adoring fans?”

I shot him a look. “I just mean… there were already people taking pictures earlier.”

Matt’s smirk faded slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That might happen.”

I swallowed. This was the part I had tried not to think about too much. It was one thing to know he was kind of a big deal. It was another to feel eyes on us in public, to know that someone might post a blurry photo online with a thousand different theories attached.

“Hey,” Matt said softly, pushing off the counter and coming closer. “If you don’t wanna deal with all that, we can just stay in. No pressure.”

I hesitated for a second, then shook my head. “No, I wanna go. If you’re up for it.”

His smile returned, slow and easy. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”

And just like that, my stomach flipped again—because of course he had a plan. And the way he was looking at me made it feel a lot like a date.

Matt didn’t tell me where we were going, just that I should “trust him.” Which, given the fact that we’d barely spent any time together in person, probably should’ve made me nervous. But it didn’t.

Instead, I let him guide me back down to the waiting SUV, his hand briefly resting on my lower back as we stepped inside.

“Alright, Manhattan,” I said, settling into the seat. “Where exactly are we headed?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re really milking this whole mysterious thing, huh?”

He shrugged. “If I tell you now, you’ll have too much time to overthink it.”

I crossed my arms, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. The drive was quick—maybe ten, fifteen minutes—before we pulled up in front of what looked like a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant tucked between two larger buildings. The kind of place that didn’t need flashy signs or advertisements because the people who knew about it knew about it. Matt thanked the driver and climbed out, coming around to open my door before I could do it myself. Again.

I stepped out, glancing around. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is this place?”

“One of my favorites,” he said, grinning. “Super low-key, no one’s gonna bother us, and they’ve got the best food in the city.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold claim.”

He just smirked, stepping aside to hold the door open for me. “Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit and cozy, the kind of place that felt like a secret. A few people were scattered at different tables, but no one even looked up as we were led to a booth near the back.

Matt waited for me to slide into one side before taking the other, and almost immediately, the waiter greeted him like an old friend.

“You’ve got a usual, don’t you?” I teased once the waiter had walked away.

Matt leaned back, grinning. “What can I say? I’m a man of habit.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you do out of habit?”

His smirk twitched slightly, and for a second, I thought he might say something cocky, something to make me roll my eyes. But instead, he studied me for a moment before saying, “I always call you San Diego, even when I could’ve started to call you by your name a long time ago, Y/N.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just felt… safer, I guess. Like if I kept things how they were, I wouldn’t have to think too much about how I actually—” He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly. “Anyway. What about you? Any weird habits?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated, feeling my face warm slightly. “Uh… I may or may not have been wearing your hoodie since you left.”

Matt’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, before his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh yeah?”

I immediately regretted saying anything. “Forget I said that.”

“Nope, not happening,” he said, leaning forward. “That’s actually adorable. You miss me, San Diego?”

I scoffed, grabbing a menu and holding it up like a shield. “I miss having an extra hoodie, that’s all.”

Matt chuckled, but before he could say anything else, the waiter returned with our drinks.

And as much as I tried to play it off, I could still feel Matt’s eyes on me, like he was trying to figure me out.

Like maybe he had been thinking about what came next—just as much as I had.

The food was, unsurprisingly, incredible. Matt’s “usual” turned out to be a plate of pasta that looked so good I couldn’t help but steal a bite. He pretended to be scandalized.

“Bold move, San Diego,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Stealing food from me on the first night.”

“First night?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Confident, aren’t we?”

He smirked, leaning back in the booth. “Just saying. You’ve got three days here. Plenty of time to make it up to me.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

The conversation flowed easily after that, light and effortless, and for a little while, I forgot about everything else—about the flashes of cameras at the airport, about the overwhelming chaos of being here. It was just Matt and me, like it had been all those months on the phone, only better.

When the check came, Matt snatched it up before I could even pretend to reach for my wallet.

“Seriously?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’re just going to pay without even pretending to let me split it?”

“You can get the next one,” he said, standing and offering me his hand to help me out of the booth.

“Next one, huh?” I teased, taking his hand.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Next one.”

I looked up at him, caught in the weight of his gaze for a moment longer than I meant to be, before stepping back and letting go of his hand. Outside, the city felt alive in a way that was overwhelming but exciting. The sidewalks were crowded with people, and the lights from the surrounding buildings cast a warm glow over everything.

We started walking, Matt sticking close enough that our arms occasionally brushed. “So,” I said, glancing at him. “What’s next on this very mysterious agenda of yours?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Again with the secrets,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re really leaning into this whole man-of-mystery thing, huh?”

He grinned. “You like it.”

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong.

We walked for a while longer, the streets becoming quieter and less crowded, until we reached a small park tucked between two buildings. There was a fountain in the center, its water shimmering under the streetlights, and a few benches scattered around.

Matt led me to one of the benches and sat down, gesturing for me to do the same. The park was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of voices from joggers passing by. We wandered without much of a destination, falling into step beside each other. We sat in the quiet of the park, the air crisp but not unbearable. The pond ahead shimmered faintly under the faint glow of streetlights, and I tried to focus on the scene instead of the way Matt’s knee kept brushing mine every time he shifted.

“I still can’t believe you actually flew across the country,” he said after a moment, his voice carrying a note of disbelief.

“Well,” I said lightly, “I figured I owed it to you after months of dodging FaceTimes when my hair looked bad.”

He smirked. “First of all, your hair’s never looked bad. Second, you don’t owe me anything. If anything, I’m the one who owes you for putting up with my nonsense.”

I tilted my head. “You really think I’d fly out here for someone who didn’t matter to me?”

That shut him up for a second, his gaze flicking toward me like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.

“You make it sound simple,” he said eventually, his voice quieter.

“It is,” I said with a shrug, kicking at a stray leaf near my foot. “You’re complicated, yeah, but you’re worth it. And for the record, Matt? You’ve never been nonsense to me.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. His hand brushed mine, and I froze, half expecting him to pull away. Instead, his fingers lightly hooked around mine, hesitant but steady.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” he murmured, so softly I barely heard him.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, though my voice was shakier than I wanted it to be.

He chuckled at that, the sound warming the chilly night air. “Okay, San Diego. Here’s something. I really didn’t think this whole…thing would go past texting. And then I met you, and you’ve got this way of making everything feel…different. Better.”

I turned to face him fully, his words catching me off guard in a way nothing else ever had. He looked back at me, his blue eyes bright even in the low light.

“I don’t think you know just how much you’ve changed things for me,” he said, his voice so steady it made my chest tighten.

I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I squeezed his hand lightly, the weight of his words settling in the best way possible.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint click of a camera shutter, and I stiffened instinctively.

“What?” Matt asked, immediately alert.

I nodded toward the direction of the sound, keeping my voice low. “I think someone’s taking pictures.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he turned, scanning the area until his gaze landed on a figure standing farther back, half-hidden behind a tree.

“Let’s go,” he said softly but firmly, rising from the bench and tugging me gently with him.

We walked quickly but not so fast it would draw attention, his hand never leaving mine as he led me back toward the park’s edge where the car was waiting. Once we were inside and the driver pulled away, I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Does that happen a lot?”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “It’s why I don’t usually…do things like this. But I’m not going to let it ruin tonight.”

I looked at him, seeing the resolve in his expression, and felt the knot in my stomach loosen just a bit.

“You’re pretty good at this whole crisis management thing,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He smirked. “Part of the job. But also, I kind of have someone worth protecting now.”

I rolled my eyes, though the warmth spreading through my chest betrayed me. “Let’s just hope they got my good side.”

Matt laughed at that, the sound melting the lingering tension.

“Your good side?” he repeated, teasing. “San Diego, every side of you is good.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that broke across my face, even as I rolled my eyes again. Maybe the night wasn’t going exactly as planned, but sitting here next to Matt, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I swung gently on the stool at Matt’s kitchen island, my feet just barely brushing the floor. The airy, modern kitchen was quiet except for the sound of Matt rummaging around in his freezer.

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” he called over his shoulder.

I laughed. “You already fed me enough for three people. Ice cream is about all I can handle right now.”

He straightened, holding up a pint of cookie dough ice cream in one hand and rocky road in the other. “Your choice, San Diego.”

I tilted my head, pretending to deliberate. “Tough call, but cookie dough wins. Obviously.”

He chuckled and tossed the rocky road back into the freezer, grabbing two spoons before joining me at the island. He slid the pint across the counter toward me and handed me a spoon.

“Do you always keep multiple flavors on standby?” I asked, scooping out a bite.

“You never know what kind of mood you’ll be in,” he replied, sitting across from me and digging in. “It’s a strategic choice.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Manhattan. You’re just that thoughtful.”

He smirked but didn’t argue, instead taking another bite of ice cream.

For a few moments, we just sat there, the quiet hum of the city beyond the windows filling the space. It felt easy—like this wasn’t the first time we’d sat together like this, sharing something as simple as a pint of ice cream.

“So,” he said after a while, breaking the silence, “how does it feel being back in New York?”

I paused, considering the question. “Honestly? Kind of surreal. It’s weird seeing the city again after everything…but I guess it’s good weird. Like coming full circle.”

“Full circle, huh?” he echoed, watching me thoughtfully. “That’s one way to put it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You have a different way?”

He leaned back slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’d call it something else.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, but his eyes held mine, warm and steady. “Like the beginning of something.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly glanced down at the ice cream, focusing on the pint as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Big words for a guy who just won’t admit this is a date,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

But Matt heard me, his laugh low and teasing. “Who said I wouldn’t admit it?”

I looked up sharply, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, so this is a date?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “What do you think?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, I felt a flush creeping up my neck. I glanced away, shaking my head.

“Smooth, Manhattan,” I muttered, earning another laugh from him.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he teased, and I groaned, throwing a napkin at him.

“Just eat your ice cream.” He was still grinning when he took another bite, and I couldn’t help but smile too.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The soft morning light filtered through the guest room blinds, pulling me from a restless sleep. I rubbed my eyes, still half-dreaming as I sat up and glanced around the unfamiliar but undeniably nice room. Matt’s house. Right. I stretched and shuffled out of bed, padding down the hallway in my socks. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge as I wandered into the kitchen.

“Matt?” I called, my voice still hoarse from sleep. No answer.

I glanced around, expecting him to pop up from behind a corner or maybe appear on his phone in the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. The place was spotless, with no sign of breakfast or any activity that morning. Frowning, I grabbed my phone from the counter and sent him a quick text.

Friday, September 30, 2024 Today, 8:31am

ME: Where are you? Your house is way too quiet.

I leaned against the counter, waiting for a reply. It didn’t take long before my phone buzzed in my hand.

MATT: Gym. Didn’t want to wake you.

I smiled faintly, imagining him out lifting weights or running drills like the overachiever he was.

ME: Very considerate of you. Also rude. I’m lost in this cavern of a house. MATT: Cavern? Dramatic much? The coffee’s already made. Cupboard to the right of the sink.

I glanced at the cupboard he mentioned and, sure enough, found mugs neatly arranged inside.

ME: Oh, so you think coffee’s going to solve all my problems? MATT: It solves 95% of mine. The other 5% is you.

I froze, staring at his text, the warmth rising to my cheeks unbidden. I quickly shook it off, focusing on pouring myself a cup of coffee instead.

ME: You’re insufferable. MATT: You’re smiling.

Okay, he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit that. I set my phone down and leaned on the counter, sipping my coffee and trying not to imagine Matt at the gym, sweaty and smug.

Before I could think too much about it, another text popped up.

MATT: I’ll be back soon. Don’t burn my house down. ME: No promises.

Smiling to myself, I wandered back toward the guest room, coffee in hand. Even in the quiet, empty house, I couldn’t shake the sense of ease I felt being here. It was a strange kind of comfort—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Matt walked into the house just as I was sprawled across the guest room bed, deeply invested in an episode of Total Drama Island. The drama on the screen was hitting its peak, and I was yelling at the TV like my opinions could somehow change the outcome. The sound of the front door opening barely registered. It wasn’t until I heard footsteps coming down the hall that I glanced up. Matt appeared in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower and curling slightly at the ends. His face was still a little flushed, either from his workout or the heat of the water, and a towel hung loosely over his shoulder. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants that looked so comfortable I almost envied them.

“Total Drama Island?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he leaned against the doorframe. “Really, San Diego?”

“Don’t knock it,” I said, sitting up slightly but not bothering to mute the show. “This is peak television. You’re just not sophisticated enough to understand.”

He laughed, the sound easy and warm. “You’re watching cartoon characters backstab each other on an island, and you’re calling me unsophisticated?”

“Exactly,” I shot back, grinning. “At least one of us has taste.”

He shook his head, stepping further into the room and crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what to do with you sometimes.”

“Admit I’m right?” I offered, taking a sip of my coffee from earlier, now lukewarm.

“Not gonna happen,” he said, smirking. His eyes flicked to the TV for a moment. “Wait, isn’t this the episode where—”

“Don’t spoil it!” I interrupted, sitting up fully now. “I don’t need your running commentary, Manhattan. Go find something else to do if you’re going to disrespect the art.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But I need to know—are you staying here all day, or are we doing something that doesn’t involve animated drama?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Depends. What’s your offer?”

He grinned, slinging the towel off his shoulder and tossing it toward the doorway. “I was thinking breakfast, but now I’m reconsidering. Maybe I should just leave you here to marinate in your terrible opinions.”

“Your loss,” I teased, gesturing to the TV. “This is gold.”

“You’re impossible,” he said, shaking his head again, though the smile on his face betrayed his amusement.

“And yet, here you are,” I said, smirking.

He didn’t respond, just gave me a long look before turning toward the door. “Be ready in fifteen,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not letting you skip out on eating.”

“Fifteen minutes?” I called after him. “What is this, boot camp?”

“You’ll survive,” he said, disappearing down the hall.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. As much as I wanted to keep watching Total Drama Island, I wasn’t about to pass up whatever Matt had planned—especially if it involved breakfast.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Fifteen minutes later, I had pulled myself together—well, mostly. I threw on a pair of denim shorts, a loose t-shirt, and my sneakers, still feeling half-asleep but ready to take on whatever Matt had planned. When I walked into the kitchen, he was already waiting, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He looked entirely too awake for someone who had just come back from the gym. His hair had dried a little more, sticking up in a few places, but it only added to his annoyingly effortless charm.

“You clean up nice,” he teased, eyeing my outfit as he sipped his coffee.

“Don’t push it, Manhattan,” I shot back, grabbing my own mug from earlier and grimacing when I realized it was still lukewarm.

“Ready?” he asked, ignoring my glare as he set his coffee down.

“Where are we even going?” I asked, following him as he grabbed his keys and headed toward the door.

“Trust me,” he said, smirking over his shoulder.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say,” I muttered, but I followed him out to the car anyway.

He drove us to a little diner tucked away in a quiet part of town, the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless you were looking for it. The parking lot was half-full, and the smell of bacon and syrup hit me the moment we stepped inside.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I said as we slid into a booth near the back.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replied, picking up a menu.

“Clearly,” I said, pretending to study the menu even though I already knew I was getting pancakes.

The waitress came by, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, and took our orders. Matt got a massive breakfast platter—eggs, bacon, toast, the works—and I stuck to my pancakes and coffee.

“So,” he said once she’d left, leaning back against the booth and looking at me with that easy grin. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the local, Manhattan.”

He chuckled, setting his coffee down. “Yeah, but this is technically your trip. I figured I’d let you call the shots.”

I thought about it for a moment, swirling the last of the syrup on my plate with a piece of pancake. “I want to do more touristy stuff. You know, the stuff people make fun of but secretly love.”

“Touristy stuff?” he repeated, feigning dismay. “You do know New York’s more than Times Square, right?”

“Yes, Matt,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t need to take selfies with Elmo, thanks. But like, the real iconic stuff—Central Park, Rockefeller Center. Maybe the Met?”

“The Met, huh? You wanna get all cultured?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” he said, smirking. “I’ll just make sure to bring my monocle.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “But seriously, if we’re doing more city stuff, I’m putting my foot down about one thing.”

“Oh?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And what’s that?”

“You’re not wearing that ridiculous hat-sunglasses-hoodie combo again,” I said firmly, pointing my fork at him for emphasis. “You looked like you were auditioning for an undercover spy movie.”

He laughed, loud and unrestrained, drawing a glance from the couple at the next table. “In my defense, I didn’t hear you complaining when it worked.”

“It didn’t work,” I shot back. “We were spotted in, like, two seconds.”

“Fine,” he conceded, holding up his hands. “I’ll leave the disguise at home. But if we get mobbed, you’re dealing with it.”

“Deal,” I said, smirking as I pushed my plate aside.

The waitress came by to collect our dishes, and Matt paid the check despite my half-hearted protests.

“Alright, San Diego,” he said as we walked back to the car. “You’ve got yourself a tour guide. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when your feet are killing you by the end of the day.”

I shot him a sidelong glance. “Oh, please. You’re the one who’ll be begging to sit down first.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

He grinned, unlocking the car. “You’re on.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I stood in front of an enormous painting, tilting my head slightly as I tried to make sense of it. A blend of colors swept across the canvas in bold, jagged strokes. Abstract. Chaotic. Beautiful. Matt, however, was slouched on the bench a few feet behind me, arms crossed and a clear look of boredom plastered across his face.

“Okay,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet reverence of the museum. “Explain it to me again. Why are we pretending that smear of paint means anything?”

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s art, Manhattan. It’s not supposed to ‘mean’ anything. You’re supposed to feel something when you look at it.”

“Well, I’m definitely feeling something,” he muttered, shifting on the bench. “It’s mostly confusion and regret for not steering us toward pizza instead.”

I rolled my eyes, walking over to him. “You’re such a baby. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” he echoed, gesturing around us. “We’ve been here for two hours. My legs are about to give out, my brain’s fried from trying to pretend I know what I’m looking at, and I’m pretty sure I just walked past a sculpture of a…melted clock? What is that?”

I stifled a laugh, crossing my arms. “That’s Salvador Dalí. It’s surrealism. It’s supposed to look like that.”

“Surrealism,” he repeated, deadpan. “Right. Totally makes sense.”

Shaking my head, I sat beside him on the bench, watching as he leaned his head back and let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re impossible,” I said, smiling despite myself.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “And yet, here you are, willingly subjecting me to this torture.”

“You’re the one who said you’d be my tour guide,” I shot back. “If you’re gonna complain this much, we can just leave.”

“Oh no,” he said quickly, sitting up straight. “We’re staying. You’re clearly having the time of your life, and I’m not about to ruin your cultural awakening or whatever.”

“Cultural awakening?” I repeated, laughing. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“Me? Dramatic?” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Never.”

I shook my head, standing up and holding a hand out to him. “Come on. One more gallery, and then I’ll let you pick the next stop.”

He hesitated for a second before taking my hand, his grip warm and steady. “You mean it? Like, actually my pick?”

“Sure,” I said, pulling him to his feet. “But if you say pizza, I’m making you try pineapple on it.”

His face twisted in mock horror as he followed me toward the next room. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

I laughed, glancing back at him. “Maybe a little.”

Despite his complaints, I caught the faintest smile on his face as he trailed behind me, like he didn’t mind the torture all that much. After another half hour of wandering through yet another wing filled with priceless paintings and sculptures, Matt looked like he was on the verge of staging a dramatic collapse. He leaned heavily against a column in the middle of the room, shooting me a long-suffering look.

“Okay, San Diego, I can’t feel my legs anymore,” he declared. “Are you seriously not done yet?”

I suppressed a grin, scanning the room before glancing back at him. “Fine. I’m done. For now.”

His face lit up with mock relief, and he straightened, stretching his arms over his head. “Thank God. You’re a menace to my sanity.”

“Oh, stop. You survived,” I teased, linking my arm through his and steering him toward the exit. “Now it’s your turn. What’s next on our big New York adventure?”

Matt paused, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought. “Well, I was thinking…maybe some pizza. Without pineapple,” he added quickly, shooting me a warning look.

I rolled my eyes. “I feel like you’re avoiding giving me a real answer.”

“Fine,” he said, smirking. “How about this: I’ll surprise you.”

“A surprise?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Should I be worried?”

“Definitely,” he replied, his tone completely serious.

By the time we stepped outside, the afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. Matt flagged down a cab with ease, holding the door open for me before sliding in after. As the cab pulled away from the curb, I turned to him. “Are you gonna at least give me a hint?”

He shook his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Nope.”

“Not even a little one?”

“Not even a little one,” he repeated, leaning back in his seat with a smug grin.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Whatever he was planning, I had a feeling it was going to be worth the wait.About twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a small, tucked-away ice cream parlor with a hand-painted sign that read Eddie’s Sweet Spot. It was the kind of place that looked like it had been around for decades, its charm untouched by the fast pace of the city around it.

“Ice cream?” I asked, glancing at him as we stepped out of the cab.

“You’ve had a long day of culture and sophistication,” he said, holding the door open for me. “Figured you could use a reward.”

I stepped inside, instantly hit with the sweet smell of waffle cones and sugar. The place was cozy and inviting, with pastel-colored walls and old-fashioned booths.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?” I teased, nudging him lightly.

“What can I say? I’m a man of refined taste,” he shot back, already scanning the menu.

After some playful debate over flavors—Matt insisted on trying to convince me that plain vanilla was underrated—we finally made our choices and grabbed a booth near the window.

As I dug into my cone, I couldn’t help but notice the way Matt’s expression softened as he watched me, like he was quietly taking in the moment.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just…you look happy. It’s nice.”

I felt my cheeks warm under his gaze, and I quickly looked down at my ice cream, trying to fight the grin threatening to take over my face.

“Don’t get used to it,” I said lightly, though my voice betrayed the flutter of my heart.

He laughed, leaning back in the booth. “Too late.”

For the first time since arriving in New York, I felt completely at ease, the city’s chaos fading into the background as we sat there, sharing stolen moments and sugary sweetness.

After finishing our ice cream, we stepped back out onto the street, the evening air cooler now as dusk started to settle over the city. I tossed my napkin into a nearby trash can and turned to Matt, who was casually leaning against the brick wall of the parlor, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“What now?” I asked, glancing up and down the street.

“Well,” he said, pushing off the wall, “I was gonna take you to see the skyline, but I think we’d both just fall asleep on the way there.”

I laughed. “Wow, way to sell your romantic plans, Manhattan.”

“I’m nothing if not honest,” he replied, grinning. “But seriously, what do you want to do? We could head back, or…” He trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

I thought for a moment, glancing around at the glowing streetlights and the soft hum of the city that never really quieted. “What about a walk? Just around here. No plans, no cabs, just…see where we end up?”

Matt raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright, San Diego. Lead the way.”

We started down the block, the rhythm of the city around us blending with our footsteps. For once, it felt like the pace of New York wasn’t racing ahead of me, like I could actually breathe it in and let it settle.

As we walked, Matt kept pointing out little details I would’ve missed—a quirky graffiti mural on a side street, a bakery that smelled so good I almost made us detour, the way the Empire State Building lit up faintly in the distance.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone light but curious, “what do you think of New York so far?”

“I think it’s overwhelming and loud and chaotic,” I admitted. “But it’s also…beautiful. In a weird way.”

He smirked. “Weirdly beautiful. I’ll take that.”

We crossed a small park, the trees lit by string lights that swayed gently in the breeze. The atmosphere felt quieter here, almost intimate.

“What about you?” I asked, glancing at him. “Do you like living here?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. I mean, it’s great for what I do, obviously. But I think I miss having space. You know, being able to drive five minutes and end up somewhere quiet.”

“Like the beach?” I teased.

“Exactly,” he said with a grin. “Although, I don’t think I’d survive long in California. I’m not laid-back enough for it.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t trade the chaos of Manhattan for sunny skies and year-round flip-flop weather?”

He laughed. “Not a chance. I’d miss the energy here. And the pizza.”

“Ah, so it’s about the food,” I said, shaking my head.

“Always,” he replied, grinning.

We walked in silence for a few moments, the quiet comfortable between us. Eventually, we found ourselves back near where we started, the streetlights glowing a little brighter now as night fully settled in.

“I guess we’ve officially wandered in a big circle,” I said, glancing around.

“Efficient,” he quipped.

I smiled, turning to face him. “Thanks for tonight. I know it wasn’t the fanciest or anything, but…I had fun.”

“Fun’s underrated,” he said, his voice softer now. “And you’re welcome.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the buzz of the city around us fading into the background. His eyes met mine, and there was something in his gaze that made my breath hitch, something quiet and steady that felt like gravity pulling me in.

“Alright,” he said, breaking the moment with a small smile. “Let’s get you home before you fall asleep standing up.”

I laughed, shaking off the nerves that had crept in. “You’re probably right. Lead the way, Manhattan.”

As we walked back toward his car, I couldn’t help but glance over at him, wondering if he felt it too—this quiet shift, this sense that we were standing at the edge of something neither of us could quite name yet.

When we got back to Matt’s place, I kicked off my shoes in the entryway, sighing as I stretched my arms over my head. “That walk was exactly what I needed,” I said, glancing over at him. “Thanks for being my tour guide.”

Matt smirked, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it onto the back of the couch. “Don’t thank me yet. My tours usually come with a fee.”

“Oh, do they?” I teased, arching a brow. “What’s the charge?”

“Undecided,” he said with a wink, heading toward the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and followed him, leaning against the counter as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “So,” I started, trying to sound casual, “what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

He paused for a second, like he was debating how to answer. “Well,” he said slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle, “I’ve got a game.”

I blinked. “Wait, a game? Like, an actual hockey game?”

“That is what I do for a living, San Diego,” he said, his grin widening.

“I know that!” I said, throwing my hands up. “But I didn’t think—I mean, you didn’t say anything about it before.”

“I didn’t think it’d matter,” he said, leaning back against the counter. “I figured you wouldn’t want to spend your time here sitting in a freezing cold arena.”

I stared at him. “Matt, are you kidding me? Of course I want to see you play! I’ve never been to an NHL game before!”

His expression softened, and he tilted his head slightly. “You sure? It’s not exactly…touristy.”

“Please,” I said, crossing my arms. “I sat through a three-hour art exhibit with you. I think I can handle a couple hours of hockey.”

“Fair point,” he said, laughing. “Alright, then. I’ll get you a ticket.”

“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not sitting in the nosebleeds. I want the good seats. Right on the glass.”

“Demanding,” he said with a smirk.

“I’m serious!” I shot back, grinning.

“Relax, San Diego,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ve got you covered. Just don’t start banging on the glass and making a scene, alright?”

“No promises,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, brushing it off. But inside, I couldn’t stop smiling. The thought of seeing him out there on the ice, doing what he loved, sent a weird mix of excitement and nerves buzzing through me.

“So,” I said, leaning back against the counter. “What time’s the game?”

“Puck drops at seven,” he said. “We’ll have to leave around five-thirty.”

I nodded, already mentally planning what I’d wear.

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” he said, watching me with an amused expression.

“Obviously,” I replied. “This is a big deal, Matt. You’re a big deal.”

His ears turned a little red, and he looked down at the water bottle in his hand. “It’s just a game,” he said, shrugging.

“Sure it is,” I said, smiling knowingly. He shook his head, clearly trying to downplay it, but I could tell he was secretly pleased.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The morning light filtered through the blinds in Matt’s guest room, but I’d been up for a while, unable to shake the excitement for the game later. I’d only brought my usual clothes with me, but it felt wrong not to wear something that supported his team. And I knew Matt had to have Rangers gear somewhere. So, naturally, I decided to snoop. I tiptoed into his room, figuring I could quietly dig through his closet without waking him. He was sprawled out on his bed, the sheets half kicked off and his hair a mess, still dead to the world. For a professional athlete, he sure looked ridiculously peaceful—like a golden retriever napping in the sun.

I opened the closet as silently as I could and started rifling through the hanging clothes. Jackets, button-ups, plain T-shirts—where was the good stuff? I found a Rangers hoodie shoved toward the back and pulled it down, but then I saw a plain navy shirt with the team’s logo on the front. Perfect. I reached for it—and knocked a hanger off the rack. It hit the floor with a loud clatter, and I froze.

“San Diego,” came a groggy voice from the bed.

I slowly turned around to see Matt, propped up on one elbow, squinting at me through half-open eyes. His hair stuck up in every direction, and he looked like he’d just woken from a two-week coma.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“I, uh…” I held up the Rangers shirt like it was evidence at a trial. “I needed something to wear for the game.”

He blinked, then flopped back onto the pillows with a groan. “You woke me up for that?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up!” I protested, clutching the shirt defensively. “I was being quiet!”

“You’re rummaging through my closet like a raccoon in a dumpster,” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,” I said, glancing at my phone.

He groaned again. “Too early.”

“Too early? You’re an athlete. Aren’t you supposed to be a morning person?”

“I’m an athlete on my day off,” he grumbled, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. “Just take the shirt and leave me alone.”

I hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry,” I said, unable to hide my grin. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, voice muffled, “too late now.”

I laughed and gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Fine, go back to sleep, grumpy.”

He peeked at me from under his arm, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, San Diego.”

I felt my face heat up but quickly stood and backed toward the door, holding up the shirt like a trophy. “I’m borrowing this, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I was scrolling aimlessly on my phone, curled up on Matt’s couch in my pyjamas, when I heard the soft creak of a door opening. Glancing up, I froze. Matt shuffled out of his room, half-asleep, with a blanket draped over his shoulders like some kind of makeshift cape. His hair was sticking up in every possible direction, and he was shirtless—completely shirtless—wearing only a pair of black boxers.

My face instantly felt like it was on fire, and I quickly looked back down at my phone, though I wasn’t actually reading anything. Why does he look like that?

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice low and rough, still thick with sleep.

“Uh, morning,” I managed, trying to sound normal. My eyes flickered up for just a second, but that was a mistake. His chest—broad and unfairly toned—was right there. And his boxers sat low on his hips, the blanket doing a terrible job of covering anything. I ducked my head again, praying he didn’t notice how flustered I was.

He yawned as he approached, then flopped down right beside me on the couch. The blanket shifted as he sprawled out, and I had to fight the urge to bolt to the other side of the room.

“Can’t get back to sleep,” he grumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face into the crook of his arm.

“Oh,” I said, barely above a whisper, gripping my phone tightly like it might somehow ground me. “That’s…uh, that’s too bad.”

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes closed as he adjusted the blanket. “This couch is more comfortable than my bed right now.”

I glanced at him, only to find his face half-pressed into the cushion. The sight of him all wrapped up in the blanket, looking so soft and vulnerable, did something strange to my chest. My heart tugged before I could stop it.

Without really thinking, I hesitated, then reached out and ran my fingers through his hair gently. It was still messy and slightly damp from his shower before bed, but soft under my touch.

He didn’t say anything. He just let out a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

“Better?” I asked softly, my fingers still weaving through his hair.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, barely coherent. Within moments, I felt his breathing even out, his head now resting on the arm of the couch, and I realized he’d fallen asleep.

I glanced down at him, his face so peaceful and calm, and couldn’t help but smile. My heart was still racing, but I didn’t dare move. For now, I just stayed there, my hand gently tangled in his hair, trying to figure out how this had somehow become my morning. I stayed there, my hand resting in Matt’s hair, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his breathing. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. My phone sat forgotten on the couch next to me.

It felt strangely intimate, sitting like this, watching him sleep. His face was so soft, so different from the confident, slightly cocky Matt I was used to seeing. Here, he just looked…human. I thought back to the last few days—the whirlwind of being in New York, the strange tension between us, and how everything seemed to feel more real the longer I stayed here. It wasn’t like our usual dynamic over texts and FaceTime. Being here, seeing him like this, was something I hadn’t fully prepared for. He shifted slightly, turning his head so that his cheek pressed against the couch cushion, his hair falling over his forehead. The blanket slipped off his shoulder, and my eyes betrayed me again, darting to the curve of his collarbone and the strong lines of his chest. God, this is unfair. I tried to focus on something—anything—else, glancing out the window at the sunny New York morning. A couple of hours ago, I was sitting here trying to figure out what I’d wear to the game, and now I was stuck in a moment I wasn’t sure how to handle.

Matt stirred again, groaning softly as his arm draped over his eyes. “What time is it?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

I glanced at my phone. “Almost ten.”

“Too early,” he muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, his voice muffled.

“You literally have a hockey game today,” I teased, trying to sound more casual than I felt.

He groaned louder this time, shifting just enough to peek at me from under his arm. His hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep, met mine, and I felt my breath catch.

“You’re too awake for this early,” he said, his voice low and raspy, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

I rolled my eyes, determined to play it cool. “I don’t think ten a.m. counts as early. What time do you usually wake up?”

“Depends,” he said, turning to face me fully now, propping his head up on his hand. “On game days, usually earlier. Guess I needed extra sleep today.” His eyes flicked to my hand, which was still resting near his head.

I pulled it back quickly, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Sorry,” I said, looking away.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It felt nice.”

I blinked, unsure of what to say, and instead busied myself by grabbing my phone. “You, uh, want breakfast or something? I can make—”

“You cook now?” he interrupted, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll have you know I’m very capable in the kitchen.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” I shot back. “But fine, you can fend for yourself. Hope you like cold cereal.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “You’re in charge of breakfast, then. Surprise me.”

I stood up, trying to shake off the fluttery feeling in my chest. “Okay, but don’t complain if it’s burnt.”

As I moved toward the kitchen, I heard him chuckle again. “I’ll take my chances, San Diego.”

And just like that, the morning shifted, the weight of the moment easing into something lighter, something that felt more like us. But as I pulled ingredients from the fridge, I couldn’t help but feel like something between us had changed.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I stood in front of the mirror in Matt’s guest room, adjusting the Rangers hoodie I’d borrowed from his closet again. The oversized fit practically swallowed me whole, but it was ridiculously soft, and the bold "73" on the back made my stomach do an unexpected flip. His number. It felt oddly personal to wear something so tied to him, but I couldn’t bring myself to take it off.

Grabbing my phone, I headed into the living room. “Matt, we really need to go!” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady.

The sound of his bedroom door creaking open made me turn. He stepped out, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, dressed head-to-toe in his Rangers tracksuit. His hair was still damp from his shower, the light catching on it in a way that made me stare just a second too long.

But it was his expression that caught me off guard. He froze mid-step, his eyes landing squarely on the hoodie I was wearing.

“You’re wearing that?” he asked, a grin breaking across his face. His cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink as he looked at me, his usual confidence faltering for a moment.

“Well, yeah,” I said, feigning nonchalance as I tugged at the sleeves. “It’s the only Rangers gear I could find in your closet, and I figured I’d look the part.”

He let out a soft laugh, his smile growing wider. “San Diego, you’ve never looked better.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the heat rising to my face. “Oh, shut up, Manhattan.”

“No, seriously,” he said, stepping closer, his grin taking on a slightly shy edge. “You’re rocking it. I mean…wow. That’s my number.”

“I’m aware,” I teased, pointing at the bold "73" on the back. “Unless you’ve been hiding some secret identity as number 12 or something.”

He laughed, a real, warm sound that made my heart skip. “Nope, just 73. And, uh…you look amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Okay, stop,” I said, though I couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He smirked, his usual playfulness returning. “Get used to it. You’re gonna get a lot of attention wearing that at MSG.”

“Speaking of,” I said, grabbing my bag, “shouldn’t we get going?”

“Right,” he said, shaking himself slightly. “Let’s do this.”

We headed down to the car, and the drive to Madison Square Garden was filled with the usual banter that always managed to ease my nerves.

When we arrived, the chaos I’d expected was nowhere to be seen. Instead of the bustling crowds I’d imagined, Matt pulled into a private parking area and led me toward a discreet side entrance.

“We’re going through the player entry?” I asked, glancing around at the quiet corridor.

“Yeah,” he said, holding the door open for me. “The game isn’t for hours, so it’s pretty quiet. Plus, it’s easier this way—less chance of someone recognizing me and blowing up our whole day.”

“Ah, yes,” I said, nodding sagely. “Can’t have anyone figuring out that number 73 brought his friend to work today.”

“Friend, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at me.

“Don’t start,” I warned, though I couldn’t help but grin.

He chuckled, leading me further into the maze of hallways. As we walked, he glanced over at me again, his eyes lingering on the hoodie.

“Seriously,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You in that—it’s…yeah. I like it.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nudged him with my elbow, hoping my flustered expression wasn’t too obvious.

We eventually reached a lounge area where a few other players were scattered, some stretching or scrolling on their phones. Matt waved to a couple of them, but he didn’t stop, his focus staying on me as he led me to a quieter corner.

“Okay,” he said, dropping his duffle bag onto a chair. “You’re officially here. How’s it feel?”

“Honestly?” I said, looking around. “Kind of surreal. And also like I’m about to get kicked out for being in a restricted area.”

Matt laughed, shaking his head. “You’re with me. No one’s kicking you out.”

“Good to know,” I said, settling into a seat. “But, uh, do I just…hang out here?”

“For now, yeah,” he said, sitting down next to me. “You’re good, San Diego. Just relax. And maybe save some of that sass for later—I’ll need it after the game.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. Being here, in his world, felt like stepping into something new and unpredictable—but with him by my side, it didn’t feel so scary.

We were sitting in the lounge when I noticed a group of guys heading our way. They looked like they were part of Matt’s team—tall, athletic, the kind of guys who carried themselves with that unmistakable swagger. I could feel their eyes on us, and I shifted slightly in my seat, glancing at Matt for reassurance.

He didn’t notice. He was leaning back, scrolling through his phone, entirely oblivious to the approaching ambush.

“Yo, Rempe!” one of them called, his voice carrying easily across the room.

Matt’s head snapped up, and the relaxed grin on his face froze when he realized they were headed straight for us.

“Who’s your little friend?” another guy asked, smirking as they all came to a stop in front of us.

Matt looked like he’d just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He fumbled for words, his usually smooth demeanor completely thrown off.

“Uh…guys, this is, um…” He glanced at me, clearly flustered. “This is Y/N.”

I gave them a small wave, my cheeks burning.

One of the guys raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Matt’s awkwardness. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m Will.” He stuck out a hand, which I shook, trying not to shrink under the sudden attention.

“She your—” Will started to ask, but another guy cut him off.

“She’s rocking your number, man,” he said, gesturing at the hoodie I was wearing. “That’s serious business.”

“It’s just a hoodie,” Matt said quickly, his voice a little higher than usual.

The guys burst into laughter, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“You are so bad at this,” one of them said, shaking his head.

“Shut up, K’Andre,” Matt muttered, his face turning red.

Before I could say anything, a couple of women joined the group, their curious gazes flicking between me and Matt.

“Oh, hey,” one of them said, smiling warmly at me. “I’m Emily. You must be Matt’s…” She trailed off, waiting for clarification.

“Friend,” I said quickly, cutting off the speculation.

“Yeah,” Matt added, nodding a little too vigorously. “Friend. She’s my friend.”

Emily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she reached out to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Don’t mind these guys—they’re incapable of acting normal.”

“Hey!” one of the guys protested, but she ignored him.

Another woman, who introduced herself as Sarah, stepped forward with a kind smile. “It’s nice to see Matt bring someone around. He doesn’t usually, you know, socialize outside of hockey.”

“Yeah, Rempe’s basically a hermit,” Will chimed in. “This is big news.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Matt said, standing up and glaring at them. “Leave her alone.”

“We’re just saying hi,” K’Andre said, grinning. “No need to get all defensive.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “It’s fine, really. I appreciate the warm welcome.”

Emily and Sarah exchanged a glance before Sarah said, “Well, if you need a break from all the testosterone, come find us. We’ll be around.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at them as they walked off, pulling their significant others with them.

Once they were gone, Matt let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I asked, still laughing a little. “They’re nice.”

“Yeah, but they’re also…a lot,” he said, sinking back into his seat.

“I can handle it,” I assured him, grinning. “Though you really need to work on your introductions. That was painful.”

He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know. I panicked. They just…they don’t usually see me with anyone outside of hockey. And then you’re here, and it’s you, and…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

I reached over and patted his arm, trying not to smile too much. “Relax, Manhattan. I survived.”

He looked up at me, his expression softening. “Yeah, well, thanks for not running for the hills.”

“Not yet, anyway,” I teased, earning a small, grateful smile from him.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Warmups were already in full swing by the time I found myself standing near the edge of the rink with a small group of women who had introduced themselves earlier. Emily and Sarah were among them, and they’d been nothing but welcoming since I’d arrived.

The sound of skates cutting across the ice filled the air as the Rangers warmed up, their movements fluid and practiced. I spotted Matt almost immediately, his tall frame unmistakable as he glided across the ice, taking practice shots at the net. He looked completely in his element, his usual awkwardness replaced with confidence and ease.

“So,” Emily said, nudging me slightly with her elbow. “What’s it like being the new mystery girl?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Mystery girl?”

Sarah laughed. “You’ve been here less than a day, and you’re already a hot topic. Matt never brings anyone around, so naturally, everyone’s curious.”

I glanced at the ice, watching Matt shoot a puck that hit the top corner of the net with a sharp clang. “It’s not really like that,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up. “We’re just friends.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Friends who wear his number and make him blush like a teenager?”

“I—” I started, but Sarah cut in, smiling.

“Don’t let her tease you,” she said. “But seriously, he looks happy. Like, ridiculously happy. It’s nice to see.”

I looked back at the ice, my gaze landing on Matt again. He skated over to grab another puck, his movements quick and precise. “He’s been really great to me,” I admitted softly.

“Have you been to a lot of games?” Emily asked, changing the subject slightly.

I shook my head. “This is my first. I’m still figuring out what icing means.”

Both Emily and Sarah laughed at that. “Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “Half of us didn’t know anything about hockey before we got dragged into this world. You pick it up fast.”

As we chatted, I noticed a few of the players skating by and glancing our way. One of them—Will, if I remembered correctly—waved, and I waved back awkwardly.

“He’s definitely trying to figure out what’s going on with you and Matt,” Emily said with a grin.

“Let him wonder,” I said, smirking a little.

“You fit in well here,” Sarah said suddenly, her tone warm.

I looked at her, surprised. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” she said, nodding. “It’s not always easy being part of this world, but you’re doing great.”

I smiled, grateful for her kindness. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Emily leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “But seriously, if you ever need advice or just someone to talk to about all this, we’ve got your back.”

“Deal,” I said, feeling a little more at ease.

Just then, Matt skated by, his eyes flicking over to where we stood. He did a double take when he saw me talking with Emily and Sarah, his expression a mix of surprise and what looked like mild panic.

“He’s looking at you,” Sarah said, smirking.

“Not just looking,” Emily added. “He’s practically staring.”

I shook my head, laughing. “He’s probably wondering what I’m telling you about him.”

“Well, now we have to mess with him,” Sarah said, grinning wickedly.

“Absolutely,” Emily agreed.

I rolled my eyes playfully, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips as I caught Matt sneaking another glance my way. Whatever this was, it felt good—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

As warmups wound down, the players slowly began trickling off the ice and heading back to the locker rooms. Emily and Sarah turned back to me, their smiles still warm and welcoming.

“So, are you sitting in the WAG suite tonight?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms as the cool air from the rink nipped at us.

“The WAG suite?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Emily laughed. “Yeah, it’s this private room they have reserved during games. You get a great view, snacks, drinks, and, most importantly, no chance of freezing your butt off in the stands.”

“That sounds… amazing,” I admitted, but then added, “But, honestly, I think I’d rather sit in the regular seats. You know, get the full experience.”

Emily tilted her head at me, amused. “The full experience? You mean sitting in the crowd, potentially surrounded by beer-chugging superfans and cold enough to wish you’d worn a parka?”

“Exactly,” I said with a grin. “I also plan on embarrassing Matt as much as possible. It’s only fair after he dragged me here.”

Sarah laughed. “I respect that. But seriously, if you change your mind, the WAG suite’s always an option. You’d be warm, and Matt wouldn’t have to worry about anyone accidentally spilling nachos on you.”

I pretended to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe if I get too cold. But for now, I think I’ll stick to the seats. I kinda want to see how crazy the fans get.”

Emily reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “Here, let me give you my number, just in case. If you need directions to the suite or just want to escape the chaos, text me.”

I handed her my phone, watching as she quickly entered her contact information. “Thanks,” I said, feeling genuinely grateful for her thoughtfulness.

“No problem,” Emily replied, slipping her phone back into her bag. “And if Matt gives you grief about embarrassing him, just remind him he’s the one who invited you.”

“Trust me, I will,” I said, smiling.

Sarah glanced toward the exit where the other WAGs were starting to make their way toward the suite. “We’re heading up now, but let us know if you change your mind.”

“I will,” I promised, waving as they left.

Turning my attention back to the rink, I could feel a giddy sort of excitement bubbling in my chest. The stands were starting to fill, and the hum of energy in the arena was unmistakable. This was Matt’s world, and I was more than ready to experience it—nachos, cold air, and all.

As the arena continued to fill, I made my way down to my seat near the glass. The chill in the air was sharp, but the energy of the crowd warmed me. It was electric—fans were already decked out in Rangers jerseys, waving signs, and chanting. I glanced down at my own jersey, the big bold "73" on the back making me grin. Matt had insisted I wear it, and I could almost picture his blush when he saw me in it earlier.

I finally found my seat, right next to the penalty box, and chuckled to myself. Of course, Matt had set this up.

“He’s planning ahead,” I muttered, shaking my head. If he thought I wouldn’t tease him about ending up in the sin bin tonight, he had another thing coming.

The music blared as the teams started making their way onto the ice for introductions. The crowd erupted, and I leaned forward, the cold from the glass seeping through my palms as I pressed them against it.

When the Rangers took the ice, I immediately spotted Matt. He skated out confidently, his stick tapping against the boards as the crowd roared. His gaze swept across the arena, and when his eyes landed on me, I swear his shoulders relaxed. He grinned and gave a quick tap of his stick on the ice before skating off to join the team huddle.

I waved at him, smirking. “Yeah, don’t mess up now,” I murmured, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me but wishing he could.

As the game began, I found myself completely engrossed. The action was fast-paced, and the sound of skates slicing the ice and sticks clashing was thrilling. But true to Matt’s own prediction, it wasn’t long before I saw him headed toward his first 2 minute penalty.

The crowd’s boos echoed through the arena as Matt skated toward the penalty box, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement. I watched as he sat down, leaning back in the seat like he owned the place.

He caught my eye immediately and smirked, shrugging as if to say, What can you do? Then he mouthed, “Wrong call.”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the replay on the jumbotron. The footage clearly showed him hooking an opposing player’s stick just enough to trip him up. The crowd groaned in unison, clearly unimpressed, but I grinned.

When the camera cut back to the live feed of the penalty box, there he was, lounging in his seat like this was part of his game plan all along. His gaze flicked up to the screen, then back to me. Realizing I had his full attention, I decided to lean into the moment.

I widened my eyes like an over-the-top fangirl, grabbed my phone, and angled it toward myself and the penalty box behind me. I waved dramatically, pulling a face of pure excitement as if I were a diehard fan spotting my favorite player.

Matt’s smirk widened when he realized what I was doing. He rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

I pressed my phone’s camera shutter repeatedly, flipping through the photos as I giggled to myself. The live feed still had him on screen, and as I glanced back, I saw him shaking his head but clearly fighting a laugh.

I waved again, this time pointing at the jersey I was wearing—the one with his number—and mouthing, “Big fan!”

He pressed his glove to his forehead in mock exasperation, then leaned forward slightly to hide his face, “You’re impossible.”

I beamed, holding up my phone to pretend to take one last selfie, just as he leaned back in his seat, fully resigned to his fate.

When his penalty was finally over, he skated back onto the ice with a quick glance over his shoulder at me. The moment felt like ours alone, tucked into the chaos of the game and the roaring crowd.

As the game continued, I looked down at the selfies I’d taken and couldn’t stop smiling. He might not live this down anytime soon, but something told me he wouldn’t really mind.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The rest of the game unfolded with an intensity that had the crowd on their feet more often than not. The Rangers pulled ahead with a goal in the second period, and the arena erupted in cheers. I was still riding the high of my penalty-box antics, but now I was just trying to focus on the action—though admittedly, my eyes followed Matt more than the puck.

Every time he made a play, I couldn’t help but cheer a little louder than anyone else around me. When he made a big hit along the boards, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Let's go!” loud enough that a few people in nearby seats turned to look at me with amused smiles.

As the clock ticked down on the third period, the Rangers were up by two goals, and the energy in the building was electric. The final buzzer sounded, sealing the win, and I jumped to my feet with the rest of the crowd, clapping and shouting as the team gathered to celebrate on the ice.

I watched Matt skate in line for the post-game handshakes with the other team, his helmet off and a grin plastered across his face. When he glanced toward the seats near the penalty box, I caught his eye and gave him a subtle thumbs-up.

He nodded, still grinning, before disappearing down the tunnel with his teammates.

The crowd began to thin out, and I lingered for a moment, scrolling through my photos from the night—especially the ones I’d taken of him in the penalty box. Just as I was about to head toward the exit, I got a text.

MATT: You coming down, or are you too busy being a fan?

I snorted, shaking my head, and quickly typed back:

ME: What’s in it for me? MATT: I won’t make you sit next to the penalty box next time. ME: Tempting, but I actually had a great view. ;) MATT: Okay, fine. I’ll buy you dinner. Now hurry up before I change my mind.

I smiled, slipping my phone into my pocket and making my way to the area where family and guests were allowed post-game. After flashing the pass Matt had arranged for me, I was let through into the waiting area outside the locker rooms.

The hallway buzzed with activity—players walking out, greeting their families, and chatting with fans. I spotted a few familiar faces from earlier, the wives and girlfriends I’d met, and they waved at me warmly.

It wasn’t long before Matt appeared, still in his gear but now minus the skates, his hair damp from the shower he’d undoubtedly taken in record time. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and his grin widened when he spotted me.

“Hey,” he said, walking over with an ease that made it look like he hadn’t just played a grueling game.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, trying not to let my smile get too big.

“You enjoy the game?” he asked, dropping his bag to the floor.

“Loved it. Especially the part where you spent two minutes in time-out,” I teased, crossing my arms.

He groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Figures,” he said, rolling his eyes but still grinning. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Absolutely,” I said, glancing down at the jersey I was still wearing. “But you better not make me walk around town like this. People are going to think I’m a stalker or something.”

Matt laughed, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder again. “I think people will figure out who you’re with pretty quickly.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against my lower back as he led me toward the exit.

The night felt alive as we stepped out into the cool air, the city still buzzing with post-game energy. I didn’t know where we were headed, but with Matt walking beside me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

We stepped out into the night, the city lights casting a glow on everything around us. The streets were alive with people, some still wearing Rangers gear, likely heading home after the game. Matt walked close beside me, his hand brushing mine every now and then as we weaved through the crowd.

“Where are we going?” I asked after a while, glancing up at him.

He smirked, his eyes warm and teasing. “You’ll see.”

I arched an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Something about the way he looked at me in that moment—confident, yet slightly nervous—made my stomach do a little flip.

We turned a corner, leaving the busier streets behind, and found ourselves in a quieter part of the city. The sounds of honking cars and chatter faded into the background, replaced by the occasional hum of a passing cab.

Matt slowed his steps, glancing around before stopping in front of a small, cozy-looking diner with big windows that glowed softly in the dark. “I figured you might be hungry after all that yelling you did,” he said, opening the door for me.

I laughed. “Yelling? You mean cheering for you?”

“Is that what you were doing?” he shot back, grinning as I stepped inside.

The diner was nearly empty, just a couple of patrons scattered across the booths. The smell of fresh coffee and warm food filled the air, and it immediately felt like one of those places that stayed the same no matter how much the city changed around it.

We slid into a booth near the back, and Matt set his bag down on the seat beside him. He leaned back, looking completely at ease, and I couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed here than he did at the rink. Less intense, more relaxed.

When the server came by, we ordered milkshakes—chocolate for me, vanilla for him—and a plate of fries to share.

As soon as she walked away, Matt’s gaze shifted back to me. His smile softened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was trying to figure something out.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his stare.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Just…you looked like you were having fun tonight. I liked seeing that.”

His words caught me off guard, and I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks. “Well, you did give me a lot to cheer for. That goal in the second period was impressive.”

“Thanks,” he said, his grin turning a little shy. “I was hoping you’d see that.”

We fell into easy conversation after that, talking about the game, the fans, the way he’d handled the penalty box situation. He made fun of how I’d acted like a crazed fan, and I teased him about the dramatic way he shrugged in the box.

Our milkshakes arrived, along with the fries, and we shared them like we’d been doing this for years.

At one point, I reached for a fry at the same time he did, our fingers brushing against each other. Neither of us pulled back immediately, and when I finally did, I glanced up to find him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“What is it?” I asked softly.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words, before finally saying, “I’ve never really done this before.”

“Done what?”

“This.” He gestured between us. “Brought someone into…all of it. My life, the game, everything.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Matt, I—”

“I’m not saying that to freak you out,” he added quickly. “I just…I don’t know. I wanted you to know that this means something to me. You mean something to me.”

The words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. My heart felt like it was pounding loud enough for the whole diner to hear.

“You mean something to me, too,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched mine, and the small smile that broke across his face after that made me feel like I’d just scored a goal of my own.

We sat there for a little while longer, talking and laughing until the fries were gone and the milkshakes were just empty glasses.

When we finally stepped back out into the night, the city was quieter, the streets mostly empty now. As we drove back to his place, he reached over and took my hand in his.

I glanced up at him, surprised, but he didn’t look at me, just kept his gaze forward, his thumb brushing lightly against mine.

It wasn’t until we were almost at his building that he finally said, “You don’t have to wear my number to embarrass me at the next game, you know.”

I laughed, squeezing his hand. “Oh, I will. Just wait and see, Manhattan.”

His laugh joined mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.

The elevator doors slid closed, and the soft hum of the ascent filled the space. Matt leaned against the side wall, his hands casually in his pockets, but his eyes flicked over to me, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked, his voice light but teasing.

I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “You mean the bedroom two doors away from yours? Of course. My, my, what a gentleman.”

He chuckled, stepping out of the elevator as we reached his floor. We made our way down the quiet hallway, and when we got to the door of the guest room, he turned to face me, giving a little bow with a flourish of his hand.

“Your suite, madam,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“Why, thank you, sir,” I replied, slipping into the playful tone he’d started. “It was a pleasant evening.”

But as I reached for the doorknob, his tone shifted ever so slightly. “I guess… goodnight,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

I froze, my hand on the door, the weight of his words sinking in. My flight. My chest tightened as the realization hit me—I was leaving tomorrow.

“Oh… yeah,” I said, my voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Goodnight, Matt.”

He gave me a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and for the first time all night, the usual ease between us felt slightly frayed. He took a step back, lingering in the hallway for a moment as if he wanted to say something else, but instead, he just nodded.

“Goodnight,” he said again, and then he turned and walked toward his room, his shoulders a little lower than they’d been earlier.

I watched him go, the door to his room clicking shut behind him. My fingers lingered on the doorknob, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn it just yet. Instead, I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, my heart feeling heavier than it had any right to.

Why did it feel like saying goodnight was harder than it should’ve been? And why, as I stood there in the quiet hallway, did I feel like I’d already started missing him?

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting soft streaks across the guest room walls. I sat cross-legged on the bed, my packed bag resting beside me, and my phone clutched in my hands. I’d been staring at the screen for a while now, scrolling aimlessly but not really seeing anything. The pit in my stomach had been growing since I’d woken up.

I glanced up when I heard a soft knock on the open door. Matt was standing there, his hair damp from a shower, little drops of water still clinging to the ends. He was in a simple gray T-shirt and sweats, his usual effortless look that somehow made my chest ache more than it should.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he stepped into the room. His eyes flicked to my bag. “You… all ready to go?”

I nodded, though it felt like my head weighed a ton. “Yeah,” I said, forcing a small smile. “Just waiting for the car.”

He shifted on his feet, his hands sliding into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Right,” he said, looking down for a moment. Then, he stepped closer, his presence filling the room in that way only Matt could. “You sure you’ve got everything? You didn’t leave your charger or… I don’t know, that Rangers shirt or something?”

I let out a soft laugh at that, trying to lighten the mood. “I triple-checked. Pretty sure I’m not stealing any more of your stuff.”

“Good,” he said, though his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean, not that I’d mind if you did.”

The air between us felt heavier than it had last night, the kind of weight that came when you both knew something was ending, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from me. “You don’t have to go.”

I blinked at him, my chest tightening. “Matt…”

“No, I know,” he said quickly, cutting me off before I could say anything else. “I know you have school and everything. I’m not saying you should stay. I just…” He hesitated, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s been nice having you here, that’s all.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my sweatpants. “It’s been nice being here,” I admitted, my voice quieter. “Really nice.”

We sat there in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside.

“When’s your car supposed to get here?” he asked eventually, his voice low.

“Twenty minutes,” I said.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly before he glanced at me again. “Think we could make the most of it?”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. “I think we can try.”

Matt smiled faintly at my response, though there was still that hint of sadness in his eyes. He shifted closer, reaching out to tug gently at the sleeve of the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie, the one I hadn’t stopped living in since I’d arrived in New York.

“Guess this is officially yours now,” he said softly.

I looked down at the oversized fabric, a bittersweet laugh escaping me. “Think it already was.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed on mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the car coming, the flight, the reality of going back to San Diego. There was just Matt, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me like he didn’t want me to go anywhere.

“I’m gonna miss you, San Diego,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper.

“Don’t start,” I said, my own voice wavering as I tried to keep it light. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re… you’re kind of my favorite person, you know that?”

My throat tightened, and I didn’t know what to say. The weight of his words, the raw sincerity in them, hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” I said finally, my voice barely audible.

Matt reached out, his hand brushing mine where it rested on the bed. His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady, and I felt myself relax just a little, even as my heart ached.

“You’ll come back, right?” he asked after a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I’ll come back.”

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking up into the smallest of smiles. “Because I’m holding you to that.”

The sound of my phone buzzing broke the moment, and I glanced down to see the notification from the car service. My ride was here.

Matt saw it too, and his hand lingered on mine for just a second longer before he pulled away, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “Guess I should walk you down,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I stood. My legs felt heavier than they should, like every step toward the door was another step toward something I didn’t want to face.

Matt followed me out into the hallway, quiet as we made our way to the elevator. When we stepped inside, the silence between us stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was just heavy, full of all the things we weren’t saying.

When we reached the lobby, Matt walked me to the waiting car, his hands in his pockets and his head down just enough that I couldn’t see his expression.

I turned to him once I reached the car, biting my lip. “Thanks for everything, Manhattan. Really.”

He looked up then, his eyes meeting mine. “Anytime.” he said, his voice soft but steady. Before I could think too much about it, I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, holding on tighter than I meant to. He hugged me back, his arms solid and warm around me, and for a moment, I didn’t want to let go.

But eventually, I had to.

I stepped back, giving him a small smile as I climbed into the car. He stood there on the curb, watching as the driver pulled away, and when I glanced back, he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, until I turned the corner and he was out of sight. I leaned back in the seat, my chest tight and my heart full, already counting down the days until I could come back.

The car had been stuck in traffic for a few minutes, the muffled sounds of honking and engines filling the air. I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes to shut it all out for a moment. I wasn’t ready to leave.

And then I heard the door open.

I jolted upright, my heart racing. “What the—”

Matt.

He was standing there, sweaty and out of breath, a sheen on his flushed face as if he’d just sprinted a marathon. He leaned against the open door, chest heaving, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“Matt? What the hell are you doing?” I asked, blinking in disbelief.

He held up a hand, trying to catch his breath. “I—I have to tell you something,” he started, words tumbling out between gasps. “Before you go. Because if I don’t, I swear I’m gonna regret it—and honestly, I think the girls might actually beat the shit out of me at the next game if I don’t.”

“What?” I stammered, still completely thrown.

“But it’s not just about that,” he rambled, gesturing wildly. “I just— I think I have to say it. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it messes things up because I don’t know how else to… Ugh.” He groaned and dragged a hand down his face, looking so exasperated with himself.

“Matt—”

“Basically, Y/N,” he cut me off, locking his eyes with mine, “I have a crush on you.”

I froze, staring at him, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.

“I know it’s probably weird. We’re like best friends, and you’re leaving, and we’ll barely get to see each other, but I can’t just pretend like it’s not there anymore. And it’s been driving me nuts because I don’t want to mess this up or make things awkward or—”

“Matt.”

“—or make you feel pressured because that’s the last thing I’d want, and—”

“Matt.”

“What?”

I stared at him for a second before a small laugh escaped me, shaking my head in disbelief. “I already know.”

He blinked, looking completely thrown. “What?”

“It’s kind of obvious,” I said, still laughing softly. “You’ve been wearing your feelings on your sleeve for weeks. You are not as subtle as you think sometimes.”

His jaw dropped, his cheeks going redder—though I wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or embarrassment. “Okay, rude,” he muttered.

“I mean, you literally chased down a car to tell me,” I teased, my heart fluttering even as I tried to keep the moment light.

“Well, yeah, because I—” I didn’t let him finish.

I leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, my face burning as I pulled back and whispered, “I guess I have a crush on you too, Matthew.”

He stared at me, his wide brown eyes searching mine, his breath catching as if he didn’t know what to do with the words I’d just said.

And then, in one swift movement, he cupped my face in his hands, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.

The world disappeared. The noise, the city, the traffic—all of it melted away. It was just Matt and the warm press of his lips, the way his thumb brushed gently against my cheek, the way everything about him felt so… right.

When we finally broke apart, he stayed close, his forehead resting against mine, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

I laughed softly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Guess we’re even, then.”

The driver cleared his throat, and we both startled as the car started moving again. Matt chuckled, shuffling back slightly but keeping his hand in mine.

“San Diego,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “You better come back soon.”

“I will,” I promised, squeezing his hand.

And for the first time since this whole whirlwind of a trip had started, I felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and just as I was settling back into my seat, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

Matt was getting out of the car.

“What now?” I muttered, leaning toward the open window.

He bent down, resting his forearms on the window frame, his face close enough that I could see the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks. “Call me as soon as you land, please?” he said, his voice softer than usual.

I laughed, shaking my head at him. “Matt, I’ll probably text you when the light turns green.”

His lips curved into a crooked smile, his gaze lingering for a moment like he didn’t want to let me go. “Still. Just… call me, okay?”

“Okay,” I promised, trying not to let the sudden tightness in my chest show.

He stepped back onto the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched the car begin to move again. I twisted in my seat, catching one last glimpse of him standing there before I sighed and turned back around. And then, my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen, a grin breaking out across my face when I saw his name. Rolling my eyes fondly, I answered, “So, when are you coming to San Diego?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by his soft laugh. “I guess that depends. You free next weekend?”

[bbittersuite]

But We Dont - Matt Rempe

For my Matt Girls!!! Never posted my writing or anything but thought WHY TF NOT. So fuck it. Here you go sexy ;)

Word Count: 3380

Y/N and Matt. Its causal between them. A situationship I guess. But Matt asks the question—Is there something between us?

Warnings: Angst. Making out. Mention of sex and hooking up. Matt being SEXY. Reader being confusing (girl get ur act together) I think thats it???

Kinda editied

“What were you up to last night,” Y/N asked as she finished placing the last of her groceries into the fridge. Matt sat on her sofa like it was his sofa. Back slouched and long legs propped on the coffee table. Finger swiping up on his phone.

“Just went out with some of the guys.”

She nodded disappointingly. He didn't want to hang out with her on Valentines afterall. She couldn't be upset though. She was the one who said she didn't want a relationship. A relationship with Matt specifically. “Oh. On Valentines?”

His eyes squint under the bright white light of his phone screen before he places it face down next to him on the sofa and looks over to the kitchen. 

“Yeah?” he questions, eyes watching Y/N as she crosses her arms over her chest. Something she does when she's trying to not seem upset. Like her own shield. “I didn't think you’d want to do anything after your long shift.”

“I didn't work last night.”

“You didn't tell me.”

Y/N shrugs, feigning indifference. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

Matt watches her for a second too long, like he’s debating what to say. “You usually tell me what nights you work.”

“So?” she challenges, hating that her voice wavers. “Not like you needed to know. You had plans, right?”

Matt leans back, studying her. “Would you have wanted to do something?”

She scoffs. “Of course not”

A moment passes. “I wasn’t doing anything last night,” she admits, quieter.

His smile fades just a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a second, neither of them says anything. Then Matt picks up his phone and unlocks it. “I mean, I could take you out now. There’s gotta be some half-off Valentine’s Day chocolate left at CVS. Pick up some pizza?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. A smile formed despite the jealousy looming through her. It wasn't that he was with his friends last night or that he didn't ask her to do something on Valentines Day. 

Though that did sting a little.

It was because he was out at the bars on Valentines where only singles looking to forget their lying cheating ex or to score lucky. Either way the night would end with strangers in one of their overly priced New york apartments. 

Matt watched her, phone still in his hand but attention fully on her now. His gaze lingered, like he was waiting for her to say something else. Call him out. Ask him the question she was biting back.

She wouldn’t.

“I mean,” he continued, voice lighter now, like he was testing the waters, “If you wanted to go out so bad, you could’ve just said something. You know I would’ve taken you somewhere.”

“I didn't want to go anywhere,” she added, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to occupy her hands, despite the freshly poured water glass on the counter already. 

Matt let out a short laugh, and she heard the creak of the couch as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Right.”

That one word made her freeze for half a second. It was the kind of right that meant he knew she was full of shit. The kind that sat between them like an open secret neither of them wanted to admit.

She turned, glass in hand, and shot him a look. “What?”

He smirked, slow and knowing. “Nothing.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Her fingers tightened around the glass. “Like—fuck, I don’t know. Just don’t.”

Matt’s smirk widened like he’d just won something. “Touchy.” He leaned back against the couch, arms stretching over the backrest, making himself comfortable—too comfortable, like he belonged there. Like this was his place, not hers. “It’s cute, though.”

Y/N scoffed, filling the glass under the tap. “Nothing about this is cute.” 

Matt hummed like he disagreed, his gaze dragging over her slowly before settling back on her face. “You sure? Because, I don’t know, you getting all worked up about where I was last night feels kinda…” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Like a girlfriend thing.”

Y/N’s head snapped toward him. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

He grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He tapped his fingers on the couch cushion beside him. “But you sound like one.”

She wanted to move on from this conversation. Matt was already seeing her as some jealous freak when she had no reason to be jealous.

She should let it go. Change the subject. Pretend it didn’t matter.

But the image of him at some shitty bar, surrounded by girls looking for something, still clung to her like cigarette smoke.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she walked over and plopped down next to him on the couch, turning her body toward him. Her water glass was forgotten in the kitchen. “You really expect me to believe you just hung out with the guys?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden shift. He tilted toward her, closing the small space between them. “I don’t expect you to believe anything, sweetheart. You already made up your mind.”

God, she hated when he called her that. Hated even more that it made her stomach flip.

She rolled her eyes. “You were at a bar on Valentine’s Day, Matt.”

“So?”

“So…” she hesitated, trying to find a way to phrase it without sounding as jealous as she felt. “You weren’t exactly playing poker in someone’s basement. The only reason to be at a bar on that night is—”

“—to get laid?” Matt finished for her, lips twitching upward.

Y/N swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were sitting. On the way his arm still stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing her shoulder.

Matt clicked his tongue, leaning in just enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You really think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know.” The words came out quieter than she meant them to.

Matt exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “That’s cute,” he murmured. “If I was looking to get laid, I wouldn’t have been at some bar.”

Y/N swallowed, pulse kicking up.

He smirked, eyes dragging over her face, slow and deliberate. “I would’ve just showed up here.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

And Matt must have noticed, because his grin turned downright dangerous. “You know,” he mused, fingers brushing against her shoulder now, light and deliberate. “If you wanted me to spend the night with you, all you had to do was ask.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. “That’s not what this is about.”

“No?” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to her lips. “Then what is it about?”

Y/N stared at him, pulse drumming in her ears.

Say it. Say it, and this whole thing changes. 

he pulled back first, standing abruptly. “I’m taking you up on that pizza.”

Matt let out a low chuckle, watching her. Not pushing. Not calling her out. He knew she didn't want to be with him like that. Anything more than what they were right now. At least that's what she told him and with each day he believed it a little less. 

He stood up, stretching lazily before grabbing his keys. “Cool,” he said, voice light again. “But just so you know—” He leaned in one last time, voice dropping to something just above a whisper. “You are cute when you’re jealous.”

And before she could try and shove his 6’7, pure musclar body. He was already heading for the door, grinning.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

After the Rangers game and the boys taking home the win Y/n was getting into Matt’s SUV back to his apartment. 

Matt threw his hockey bag in the closet as they entered his apartment and flicked on the lights as he vanished down the hall to his room to change out of his tailored suit that made Y/N mind go crazy. 

Y/n sank down into the black sofa and turned on the tv, scrolling through netflix to find something for the two of them to watch. 

When he returned his hair was still damp from his post game shower. His black hoodie was loose around his shoulders, and his sweats hung low on his hips. He looked comfortable—too comfortable, like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours throwing himself into other people for sport.

What are we watching?” he asked, dropping onto the couch beside her, way closer than necessary. His thigh brushed against hers, the heat from his skin seeping through her tight denim.

“Dunno,” she muttered, still flipping through options. “Nothing good.”

Matt hummed, peering over her shoulder. “I say we put on something terrible, then. More fun to make fun of.”

“Like what?”

“Some shitty rom-com where the guy messes up, but the girl takes him back anyway.” He smirked, tapping a finger against her knee. “You seem like the type to eat that shit up.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I’m saying you like a good redemption arc.” His voice was teasing, but something flickered in his expression—something unreadable. “Just look at me.”

She rolled her eyes and clicked on the first movie that looked decent, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at his words. Matt shifted, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her. His fingers barely grazed the back of her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his touch even through the fabric of her sweatshirt.

They settled into the movie, but Y/N could barely focus. Matt was too close, and he was making no effort to keep his hands to himself. Y/N tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the screen, but then he shifted again—this time turning his head toward her, his lips just inches from her temple. “You smell good.”

She exhaled sharply. “Matt.”

“What?” He grinned, eyes dark with amusement. “Can’t give you a compliment?”

His knuckles brushed against her thigh.

Matt grinned, tilting his head slightly. “You always get this quiet when we’re sitting this close?”

Y/N scoffed. “No.”

He hummed again, fingers lightly trailing up the back of her arm. “You sure?”

She swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how little space there was between them. “Positive.”

Matt leaned in, his nose barely brushing against her temple. “Then why do you look nervous?”

“I’m not—” Her breath hitched as he shifted again, his arm pressing more firmly against her back.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because we’ve done this plenty of times before.”

Y/N barely had time to process his words before his hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face toward him. His lips were on hers a second later—slow at first, testing, teasing, before he deepened the kiss.

It wasn't new but it burned through her each time like it was.

Matt’s hands found her waist, pulling her onto his lap without hesitation. Y/N let out a quiet gasp against his lips, her hands bracing against his shoulders. His fingers curled into her sweatshirt, bunching the fabric slightly as his grip tightened.

“Been waiting for you to do that all night,” Matt murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, fingers sliding into his damp hair. “You could’ve done it sooner.”

Matt smirked, his hands tracing slow, deliberate circles over her hips. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”

His lips brushed against hers again, lingering, before trailing down her jaw, then lower, grazing against the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. A slow, satisfied hum vibrated from his chest when she exhaled a little too sharply.

Y/N’s hands gripped the front of his hoodie, tugging him back up to face her. “You’re in a mood tonight,” she muttered, amusement laced in her voice.

Matt leaned back against the couch, pulling her closer, forcing her to settle against him. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “Big win tonight. Feeling good.”

“Mm,” she mused, fingertips tracing absentmindedly along the side of his neck. “So you just want a victory hookup?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Nah, I just want you.”

Y/N felt her stomach flip—an involuntary, stupid reaction she immediately pushed down. This wasn’t anything new. This wasn’t different.

But the way Matt was looking at her…

She ignored the thought, pulling him into another kiss before she could think about it too much.

His hands roamed her back, dragging slow and deliberate, fingers teasing under the hem of her sweatshirt. The movie played on, long forgotten, the distant sound of some rom-com couple arguing barely registering as Matt kissed her deeper, pressing her against him like he wasn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon.

Her hands slid under his hoodie, palms grazing over the hard ridges of his stomach, still warm from his post-game shower. Matt let out a quiet groan against her lips, one of his hands tangling in her hair as he tilted her head to kiss her harder.

Y/N barely noticed when he shifted, pressing her back against the couch cushions, hovering over her now. Matt’s fingers traced slow patterns along her back. His other hand lifted, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, pressing down just slightly.

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her lips parted instinctively, and Matt’s gaze flickered down, eyes dark. Hungry. 

“You’re staring,” she muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but the way her voice wavered completely betrayed her.

Matt smirked. “Yeah?”

With that Y/n leaded back in. The moment her lips met his again, Matt groaned softly, his grip tightening at her waist like he needed her closer. His fingers stayed under her sweatshirt, tracing over the bare skin of her lower back, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to take his time, like he was enjoying the way she melted into him.

Y/N’s hands slid into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and Matt’s response was immediate. His body pressing into hers in a way that made it impossible to ignore just how much he wanted this.

She gasped against his lips, and Matt chuckled, low and satisfied. “You always get this needy when I touch you?”

Y/N scowled, shoving at his chest—not enough to push him off, just enough to prove a point. “You always talk this much when we’re making out?”

His lips moved to her jaw, down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. She could feel him smirking against her when she tipped her head back slightly, giving him more access.

Y/N exhaled sharply, nails digging into his shoulders. The warmth of his hands, the weight of him against her—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Matt.” Her voice came out breathless, almost desperate, and when she met his gaze again, the cocky glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

He raised a brow, fingers tracing down her side, slow and teasing. “Yeah?”

“Take me to your room.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he scooped her up from the couch, making her squeal as he carried her down the hall, his lips already on hers before they even reached the door.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Come over. I’ll make dinner.

When she gets to his place, Matt’s already in the kitchen, moving around like he actually knows what he’s doing. There’s a pan sizzling on the stove, the scent of garlic and butter filling the air.

She leans against the counter, watching him. “Since when do you cook?”

He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “I can make, like, three things. You’re getting one of them.”

They eat at the small kitchen table. Like friends. It's normal. Its always been easy for Matt and Y/n.

After, They curl up on the couch, a blanket draped over them, his arm resting around her shoulders. The movie is something they’ve both seen a hundred times, but neither of them is really watching. They've never made it through a movie without getting tangled up in one another. 

His fingers trace lazy circles on her shoulder, absentminded, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

She does.

Her head rests against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and slow. She could fall asleep like this.

“Can I ask you something?” he says breaking the sound in the room.

Y/n shifts away from his chest, sitting up to be at eye height with him. 

His hand slides from her shoulder, falling to her waist, his fingers dragging against the fabric of her shirt.

The air between them stretches, thick and weighted.

Neither of them speak.

They just look at each other.

His gaze flickers between her eyes and her lips, something hesitant, something aching.

Her fingers twitch against the couch, resisting the urge to reach for him. To pull him back in. To press her mouth against his.

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn't tease. Just watches her, the weight of his hand still resting against her hip. “Is there something between us?”

Her eyes grow. “What do you mean Matt?” Asking like she didn't know what he meant. Y/N didn't need more clarification.

Matt exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening. “You know what I mean.”

His fingers press slightly into her waist, grounding himself, waiting. His eyes search hers, looking for something—anything—that tells him he’s not crazy for feeling the way he does.

She can feel her pulse in her throat, in her wrists, in every place he’s touching her.

But she doesn’t answer.

Matt’s hand twitches against her hip, his patience thinning. “Y/N/N.” His voice is softer this time, but no less certain. “Just tell me the truth.”

The truth.

She knows it. She feels it.

But the weight of admitting it—of owning it—lodges in her chest, heavy and suffocating.

So she lies.

“There’s nothing.”

His expression flickers, something breaking just beneath the surface.

His hand slips from her waist, resting on his lap as he nods slowly. Like he’s letting the words settle, like he’s accepting them.

Like he’s letting her go.

Y/N swallows against the tightness in her throat. “Matt, I—”

But he doesn’t let her finish. Instead, he leans in, capturing her mouth in his.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s desperate, almost punishing, his hands finding her waist again, gripping harder this time.

She lets herself fall into it. Forgets the words that just left her mouth. Forgets why she said them at all. Because she didn't mean them. Not even deep down. She knew she was lying to Matt. Lying to herself. 

His hands slide up her sides, his lips moving against hers with a kind of urgency she’s never felt from him before.

She should stop.

She should fix this.

But she doesn’t. Because this is easier.

It’s easier to let him kiss her like this, to let him touch her, to let him pull her back into the only version of them that’s ever made sense. It’s easier than telling the truth.

But then—Matt pulls away.

Y/N blinks, dazed, breathing uneven. “What—”

His hands drop from her waist, running through his hair. He exhales sharply, his chest rising and falling.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Her stomach twists. “Matt—”

He shakes his head. “I mean it, Y/N/N. I can’t.”

She stares at him, waiting for him to take it back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stands, running a hand down his face before nodding toward the door. “You should go.”

It’s a command, but his voice is quiet. Worn.

Y/N swallows, waiting for him to stop her, to say anything that would make this feel less final. But he doesn’t.

So she grabs her bag, moving toward the door, fingers trembling as she wraps them around the handle.

She hesitates. Turning back, just once.

Matt is still sitting there, eyes drilling holes into his hands as they stay in his lap. He doesn't stop her. He doesn't take back what he said. She doesn't tell him how she really feels. That there is something between them. That she loves him. But she doesn't.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Thanks for Reading!!!!!

[letsyapthenightaway]

could we please have all the guys reaction to the - "Somebody point me to the best ass eater" trend please lovely? x

This is going to be weak because I think most of them wouldn't participate but let me imagine.

Luke Hughes- if you are holding the phone he's shaking his head with a smile and pushing it out of his face. If you are doing the little dance that goes with the trend he'd react the same way but walk away.

Jack Hughes- ... he's iffy for me. I think it would be depending on his mood. He'd either go "No" and shut it down real quick or he's going all in. I mean all in! Laughing while doing the head shake thing and tongue out.

Quinn Hughes- I can't picture Quinn anywhere near this trend. I have a feeling he ran away before you could get to him.

Matt Rempe- I think he'd laugh, do the trend for like 3 seconds, get embarrassed and pull away instantly regretting it. I can picture him laughing with a slight blush and doing that little thing he does when he's nervous. Like running his hand through his hair and hand on his hip.

Connor Bedard- He's standing there with the most awkward smile but when he hears the lyrics he's going "What?" With wide eyes and an awkward laugh.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Kink List With Matt Rempe

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Matt Rempe is a total sweetheart after sex. He's all about cuddling and physical closeness, eager to wrap his strong arms around you and pull you close against his chest. He'll run his fingers through your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and nuzzling his nose into your neck. You can feel his heart beating strong and steady, the rhythm of his breaths slowing to a deep, steady tempo as he relaxes.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Matt Rempe is all about muscle. He takes great pride in his physique and the power it gives him on the ice. Off the ice, he enjoys showing off his hard work and the way his muscles stand out against his skin. He also takes great pleasure in admiring the bodies of others. He likes firm muscles and curves that are soft and supple. He can't get enough of running his hands along the dips and swells of a body, feeling the movement and the heat. He likes to take in all the sensations of touch and taste, especially in intimate moments.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Matt Rempe typically produces a decent amount of cum, especially if he's been saving up. He usually either cums inside his partner or on their body, depending on what they're into. He's also a big fan of creampies and likes to be a bit of a possessive partner, marking his territory and claiming his partner as his own, either on his terms or in an act of dominance.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Matt Rempe has a bit of a secret fetish for public sex. He loves the rush of adrenaline that comes with the risk of being discovered and the satisfaction of getting away with it. He's always on the lookout for secluded spots where he can have a little fun.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Matt Rempe is a confident and experienced lover, having been around the block a few times. He knows all the right moves and how to make a partner feel good, and he's not shy about taking control when he wants to. Despite his big build and sometimes aggressive personality, he's a true gentleman when it comes to intimacy and genuinely cares about his partner's pleasure.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Matt Rempe's favorite position is anything that involves him being in control, especially when it comes to his partner's pleasure. One of his favorites is missionary with his partner's legs wrapped tightly around his waist, allowing him to hit all the right spots while keeping his partner completely at his mercy. He also loves it when his partner rides him, giving him a chance to touch and taste every part of their body while enjoying the view.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Matt Rempe tends to be a bit on the serious side during intimate moments, but he doesn't take himself too seriously and isn't afraid to be playful and have a bit of fun. He'll inject some humor into their interactions, cracking jokes and making lighthearted comments. He may even goof off a bit, doing something unexpected just to get a laugh out of his partner. He knows how to have a good time and keeps things light and enjoyable, ensuring that both he and his partner are having a great time.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Matt Rempe takes pride in maintaining his appearance, including keeping his body hair well-groomed. He trims and keeps things neat and tidy 'down there,' ensuring that his hair color matches what's on top of his head. He's not obsessive about it, but he doesn't like to look like a sasquatch either. He's more focused on keeping his partner happy and satisfied than worrying about any potential mismatches.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Matt Rempe is a surprisingly romantic partner when it comes to intimacy, despite his aggressive nature on the ice. He's passionate and intense, but he also knows when to slow things down and savor the moment. He loves showering his partner with soft kisses and gentle caresses, taking time to explore their body and learn what makes them tick. He's not afraid to be vulnerable and open with his emotions, showing his softer side in intimate moments. Overall, he's a tender and caring lover who genuinely cares about his partner's pleasure and emotional well-being.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Matt Rempe isn't particularly shy and doesn't really hide anything much from anyone. He does have a pretty high sex drive and will absolutely relieve himself when he needs to, though he doesn't do so extremely often since he usually has a partner willing to help him out. He's not one to do it just for fun, he only really does so when he really needs to and has to get the job done.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Matt Rempe has a few kinks, including a penchant for dirty talk and light spanking. He loves to take control and be the dominant one in the bedroom, and he enjoys a partner who is willing to submit to him and let him take the lead. He's also a fan of a bit of rough play such as biting and scratching, but nothing too extreme. His biggest kink, however, is exhibitionism, the thrill of being watched and the risk of getting caught, drives him absolutely wild.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Matt Rempe is all about mixing things up and being creative with where he has sex. While he doesn't have a single favorite spot, he does have a few locations he tends to lean towards. He enjoys doing it in the woods or other outdoor locations, which allow him to indulge his exhibitionism kink. He also likes taking his partner in unexpected places, like a car, a rooftop, or even a semi-secluded corner at a party. He loves the thrill of being somewhere he shouldn't be and the chance of getting caught.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Matt Rempe is a simple man with pretty straightforward tastes. He's motivated by his partner, plain and simple. He enjoys taking control and loves when his partner enthusiastically reciprocates and participates. The sound of their moans, the feeling of their body against his own, the look in their eyes, all of it makes Matt's blood pump faster and get him going. He gets turned on by a partner who is unabashedly themselves and passionate about what they want.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Matt Rempe has a few hard limits when it comes to intimacy, and one of them is anything that involves pain or harm to his partner. He may be a bit rough in the bedroom, but he never wants to cause his partner any real pain or discomfort. He's also not into anything that involves humiliation, he doesn't like seeing you in distress or pain, even if its for pleasure. He wants to make sure that you are always happy and comfortable, and won't do anything you don't expressly want to do.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Matt Rempe is a true gentleman in everything he does, and that includes oral sex. He loves both giving and receiving, but he especially enjoys going down on a partner. He's talented and knows just how to use his tongue and mouth to drive you wild. He takes his time and makes sure to pay attention to every little cue and reaction, ensuring that your pleasure is his top priority.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Matt's preference is variable, depending on the scenario, but he typically enjoys a good mix of both. If he's feeling particularly energetic, he will go fast and rough, taking control and asserting himself. But if he's feeling more tender and intimate, he will slow down and take things at a more sensual pace, drawing out every moment and making sure you feel every touch he gives. He's versatile and can adapt to whatever the situation calls for.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Matt Rempe is a big fan of quickies, they are a fun and exciting way to sneak in a little fun when time is short. He loves the thrill of doing something a little naughty and risky, and the fact that they are quick and easy makes them even more appealing. He'll often initiate quickies when he's feeling particularly frisky and can't wait to get you in bed, and they're a favorite of his during the playoffs when time is sparse.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Matt Rempe is all about taking risks and trying new things. He's not afraid to push boundaries and explore his partner's desires and fantasies. He's usually up for anything and loves trying new things in the bedroom. He likes to keep things exciting and keep you on your toes, so he's definitely a "yes man" when it comes to experimentation.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Matt Rempe has impressive stamina, especially considering the energy it takes to play a full NHL game. With a combination of natural endurance and conditioning, he can go for quite a while when it comes to intimacy. He can go multiple rounds, each one just as intense as the last, and has been known to last for hours. He loves pushing his limits and will go as long as you do.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Matt Rempe doesn't own many toys, he's more of a hands on kind of guy, but he does have a few that he uses from time to time. He enjoys experimenting with them on his partner and using them to tease and tantalize. He also likes to use them on himself when he's alone and in the mood. His favorites are ones that vibrate; he loves the sensations they bring and likes to use them to explore a partner's erogenous zones.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Matt takes great pleasure in teasing, he likes to keep you wanting more and constantly on the edge. He will start off with slow kisses and soft touches, and slowly build up the intensity, stopping right before you find release. He'll make you beg and plead for it, and when he finally gives in, the satisfaction is heightened because you have to wait for it. He knows exactly what to do to keep you wanting more, and he uses it to his advantage every chance he gets.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Matt is not afraid to let you know how he's feeling and loves to vocalize his pleasure. While he's not as loud as some, he definitely isn't quiet either. He'll moan and gasp as he moves with you, and his breathing will quicken as he gets closer. He also loves to use naughty and dirty words, telling you exactly what he wants to do to you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Headcanon: Matt Rempe has a secret obsession with lingerie. He loves the way it looks and how it feels against his skin when you wear it, and he often fantasizes about his partner wearing it for him. He has a hidden drawer full of different pieces of lingerie that he's bought over the years, and he secretly hopes one day you'll find it and indulge his fantasies.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Picture in your mind's eye: Matt Rempe is well proportioned, with a large and impressive member. He's not afraid to use it with precision, to give you all the pleasure you could want.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Matt's sex drive is high, he desires both intensity and frequency. He loves getting up close and personal with his partner and craves you constantly. He's easily aroused, even when he's completely exhausted after a game.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Matt tends to pass out pretty quickly after sex, all the energy and adrenaline gone from his body. He usually turns over, pulls you close, and is asleep within minutes. He's a pretty heavy sleeper, but has been known to grumble a bit if he's not comfortable. Don't be surprised if you find him clinging to you while he sleeps.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮ᵐʳ⁷³

*gif by @makarhughes

in which matt’s helped y/n through her chronic illness for years, but one night, it all becomes too much.

warnings; chronic illness (lupus), hospitals + hospitalization, worried matt rempe

When you were 14, you sat in the sterile doctor's office, your hands trembling slightly as you waited for test results. You had been feeling off for months—fatigue, joint pain, strange rashes—and you knew something was wrong, but hearing the words "You have lupus" felt like the ground was pulled from beneath you. Your chest tightened as the doctor explained the diagnosis, your mind racing with questions you didn’t know how to ask. All you could think about was how this would affect your life, your schooling, and the people you loved. You felt numb, unable to process it all at once.

When you were 19, you had met Matt during an off-season charity event. You were volunteering at an animal shelter, and hadn’t expected much from the night, just another hockey fundraiser with a few familiar, but many unfamiliar faces. But when you were introduced to Matt, something clicked. He was easygoing, with a quiet charm that drew you in right away. You guys spent the evening talking, first about hockey, then about everything else. By the end of the night, you were laughing like old friends. You hadn't thought much of it at first, but as time went on, your paths kept crossing, and it became clear that meeting Matt wasn’t just a coincidence—it was the start of something that changed your life.

Telling Matt about your chronic illness had been one of the hardest things you ever did. You remembered the night clearly, sitting across from him with your hands clenched tightly in your lap. Your heart pounded as you struggled to find the right words, terrified of how he might react, “I have lupus.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of seeing pity or disappointment in his eyes. But instead of pulling away, Matt gently reached for your hand, his quiet reassurance easing some of the weight you’d been carrying alone for so long.

Ever since then, he’d been the absolute sweetest boyfriend — always taking care of you when things got rough, and always reassuring you about your strength and resilience. It had even gotten to the point where Matt had offered to take games and practices off, but you always told him no. Despite his reluctance, he always listened to you.

While you had been feeling okay over the past couple of weeks, today was one of those days.

It had been one of those mornings where you knew, as soon as you opened your eyes, that it was going to be a rough day. Your body ached in ways that made it hard to move, and a low fever had settled in overnight, leaving you feeling drained. You groaned softly, rolling over and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror— the familiar butterfly-shaped rash had returned, bright across your cheeks.

Matt wasn’t in bed next to you. You cursed to yourself as you realized the time, noting that he was at morning practice. You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes at the pain you were in. You tried to fight through it and get out of bed, but the pain was too much. You felt helpless. With the strength you did have, you reached out to grab your phone off of the nightstand next to you, sending a quick text to Matt.

one of those days. will you be home soon?

You waited anxiously for Matt’s reply, but didn’t have to wait long.

leaving the arena now. be home soon, my love.

On the other end of the phone, Matt could sense something was wrong. Even when you were dealing with a flare up, you were as independent as could be. You hated asking for help, because it made you feel like you were a burden. The fact that you texted him was a miracle in itself.

When he got home, he set his gear down in the garage and made his way up the stairs to your room as quickly as he could. Within minutes, he was sitting beside you on the bed, concern etched on his face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently, brushing a hand across your forehead to check for a fever. You were burning up.

“Better now that you’re here,” you joked, cracking a small smile, but Matt could see right through it. He smiled at you sadly, climbing into bed next to you. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes. Whenever you went through a flare up, you felt as though you could sleep for days on end.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, settling down under the blankets as you gently placed your head on his shoulder, “close your eyes, love, and just rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

So you did.

Matt stayed close all day, making sure you stayed hydrated when you woke up, adjusting the pillows when you needed more comfort, and even gently applying cool compresses to your face when the heat of your fever became unbearable. Every time you tried to apologize or downplay your discomfort, he stopped you with a quiet, reassuring smile, “I’ve got you,” he’d say, his voice calm and steady.

By the time bedtime came around, you were still achy, but the fever had gone down a little, and the rash had begun to fade. Matt had barely left your side, keeping the TV on low and talking to you softly, filling the silence with easy conversation to distract you from the pain. As the two of you lay in bed that night, Matt’s arm draped protectively over you, and you felt a deep sense of comfort. You hated feeling weak, but with Matt, it never felt like you had to fight alone.

As you fluttered off to sleep, Matt pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He loved it when you slept — you were so extremely beautiful, and he knew that sleeping took the pain away for a brief moment of time. At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but worry. It had been a long time since he’d seen a flare up this bad, but you had gotten through it. That gave him just enough solace to fall asleep next to you after hours of worrying as you slept, his arm still draped gently over your body.

Within minutes of his eyes closing, Matt stirred in his sleep, feeling you shift beside him. He was exhausted, having stayed by your side all day, but he’d never leave you when you were having such a rough time with your illness. He had only just fallen asleep when he felt a light tug on his arm.

“Matt…” your voice was faint, barely a whisper in the dark room, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it that shot adrenaline through him.

He blinked his eyes open and sat up quickly, heart already pounding. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even though dread immediately settled in his chest.

You looked at him, your face pale and clammy, beads of sweat dotting your forehead. You swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “I… I don’t feel right. It’s never been this bad before. I think… I think I should go to the hospital.”

Matt’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch, and suddenly, he was wide awake, fear gnawing at him. He kept his face calm, though—he had to. If you saw how scared he was, it would only make you panic.

“Okay,” he said gently, his voice even though his mind was racing. “Let’s get you there. Can you sit up?”

You nodded weakly, but as you tried to move, you winced in pain, and Matt immediately reached over, helping you. His hands were steady, though inside, his chest felt like it was caving in. You were never the type to admit that you needed help, and hearing you say that you wanted to go to the hospital made his heart twist in his chest.

Once you were sitting up, Matt quickly grabbed a sweatshirt for you, carefully sliding it over your shoulders before easing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands never leaving you as he helped you stand.

Every second felt like it stretched on forever. In his mind, he was already imagining the worst—what if something was really wrong? What if you were in more pain than you let on? But outwardly, he stayed calm, focusing on the next step. He needed to get you to the hospital, and everything else could wait.

Once the two of you were in the car, Matt kept glancing over at you, his hand gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. “You’re doing great,” he said softly, hoping the words would bring you some comfort, though the knot in his stomach tightened every time you shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“It hurts,” you cried out, your voice shaky as you gripped your stomach and leaned forward to rest your head on the dashboard. Matt flinched at the pain in your voice, tears gathering in his eyes, but he couldn’t let them spill.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re almost there, just hold on.”

The drive felt like it took forever, every red light adding another layer to Matt’s mounting anxiety. But he didn’t rush. The last thing you needed was a reckless driver on top of everything else.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Matt helped you out of the car, wrapping his arm securely around your waist as you guys made your way inside. The bright lights and sterile smell of the hospital hit him hard, but he kept his focus on you, his heart aching at how much pain you seemed to be in.

As Matt checked in, you leaned heavily against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t said much since the car ride, and Matt’s worry spiked even higher.

The nurse took both of you to a room, and once you were settled on the hospital bed, Matt pulled a chair close, refusing to leave your side. The doctors came in, asking you questions. Although you were obviously in tremendous pain, the doctors wouldn’t let up and get you help. But all Matt could do was watch, his hands clenched together in his lap, his mind screaming for answers.

When the doctors left to run tests, Matt finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? They’ll figure out what’s going on.”

You gave him a small, tired nod, your eyes glassy from pain and exhaustion. “Thanks for staying calm,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with gratitude.

Matt forced a smile, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Anything for you.” But inside, his heart was racing, every second dragging on painfully as he waited for some kind of news. He kept stroking your hand, praying silently that everything would be okay, all while forcing his expression to stay calm.

For your sake, he would hold it together. But the second you were out of this hospital, he’d let all his fear and worry flood out—just not yet. Not until you were okay.

Within minutes, you had passed out from exhaustion. The doctors moved quickly around you. Matt stood by your side, holding your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in an attempt to soothe both you and himself. Although you were asleep, he could feel the tension in your grip, the way you were holding on to him like he was your anchor in a storm.

“I’m right here,” he whispered softly, leaning closer to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

But even as he said it, the fear gnawed at him. What if you weren’t okay? What if this time was worse than before?

The doctors were speaking in low tones, their words just out of reach, and Matt’s stomach churned as he tried to make sense of it all. He wanted to demand answers, to make them tell him what was going on, but he couldn’t leave you. He needed to stay with you, to keep you calm, even as his own fear threatened to overwhelm him.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor approached, her expression serious but not alarming. Matt held his breath.

“We’re going to admit Y/N for observation,” the doctor explained. “Her symptoms are concerning, but we’re taking all the necessary steps to stabilize her. We’ll get her comfortable and monitor her closely.”

Matt nodded, swallowing hard. “Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’re doing everything we can. She’s in good hands, Mr. Rempe.”

Matt thanked her, but his focus was already back on you. You were still holding his hand, your grip weak but steady, your eyes still closed as they wheeled you toward a permanent room. His chest tightened again, but he forced himself to stay composed, even though he was falling apart inside.

Once you were in the room, Matt sat down beside your bed, his hand still clutching yours. The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound breaking the silence. Your breathing had calmed slightly, but you looked so pale, so fragile, that it nearly broke him.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on your joined hands, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here. You’re going to get through this, okay? You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

And even though he was terrified, even though the fear still clawed at him, Matt knew he’d stay with you through it all. No matter how scared he was, no matter how hard it got, he wouldn’t leave your side.

You were everything to him, and he’d do whatever it took to make sure you were okay. Even if that meant staying up all night, fighting sleep when his eyes would flutter shut. The clock struck 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4:00, 5:00, and so on, but the boy refused to sleep, his tired eyes glancing over to you in concern more times than he could count. Time moved slowly, but that didn’t matter to Matt.

The next morning, around 9:00, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the hospital room, casting a soft glow across the bed. You blinked awake slowly, the familiar beeping of machines and the sterile hospital scent filling your senses. As you adjusted to the light, your eyes immediately found Matt.

He was still in the same chair beside your bed, his posture tense but upright. His hand was still holding yours, his grip firm even though he looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and it was clear he hadn’t slept at all. His face was slightly scruffy, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it all night, but his gaze was focused entirely on you, concern etched deeply into his features.

“Matt?” your voice came out raspy, your throat dry from a night of fitful sleep. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to pull his attention back from wherever his thoughts had drifted.

His eyes snapped to yours, relief flooding his expression as soon as he saw you were awake. He immediately leaned forward, his tired features softening. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with fatigue. “You’re awake.”

You nodded slowly, your body still heavy with exhaustion, but you could already feel the difference. You felt better—weak, but a little better, “You stayed up all night?” you asked softly, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn out, knowing he had been up watching over you.

Matt gave you a tired smile, but his eyes were filled with love and relief. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice gentle, “I didn’t want to sleep in case you needed me.”

You frowned, your heart swelling with love for him, but also a hint of guilt creeping in. “Matt, you didn’t have to do that. You need rest too.”

He shook his head quickly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “I’m fine. I wanted to be here. The only thing that matters is you.”

The emotion in his voice made your chest tighten, and you felt tears prick your eyes as you looked at him. You knew he was tired, that he had been running on pure adrenaline and fear since the two of you had arrived at the hospital, but there he was, still sitting by your side, refusing to leave.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Matt leaned forward, his free hand brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m always going to be here for you. No matter how hard things get.”

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in your eyes. “I hate that you’re worrying so much,” you whispered. “I hate that you have to deal with this because of me.”

Matt’s expression softened, and he shifted in his chair, leaning in closer to you. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. Not even close. I’d do this a thousand times over if it meant being here for you. You’re everything to me.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You let them fall silently, grateful for his unwavering support, his love that never faltered even when things got tough. You squeezed his hand tightly, wanting him to know how much he meant to you, how much his presence had kept you grounded through everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words filled with all the emotion you couldn’t fully express.

Matt’s face softened even more, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, the room filled with a quiet peace as you held onto each other. You could feel the weight of everything—your illness, the hospital, the fear—start to lift, replaced by the warmth and comfort of Matt’s love. He had been your rock through it all, never wavering, never leaving your side.

“You should rest now,” you whispered softly, your hand still holding onto his. “You’ve done so much for me. Let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Matt chuckled softly, the sound warm and soothing despite his exhaustion. “Maybe in a little while,” he said with a tired smile. “But right now, I just want to be with you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full. “You’re the best,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Matt gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Yeah,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb gently over your knuckles, “I know.”

You chuckled softly, an eye roll quickly following. But as the morning light filled the room, the two of you stayed there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, knowing that together, you could face whatever came next.

That was until you checked the time, however. You groaned, and Matt’s head shot up, his brows furrowing as he looked over at you to figure out what was wrong, “Matthew Rempe! What happened to morning practice?”

And that was the first time he had left your side.

[sssunflowersmiles]

hiiiii :3 me again :3

what about matt with a gf who’s in another sport!! f1 perchance?? up to you but just a thought!!

Slay! I made her a Ferrari girl to match the rangers red!!

Ps requests for moodboards are open!

[scorpiossslut]

as Cardi B once said. Matt Rempe… I want you to park that big Mack truck right in this little garage 😉🫦

[hurricanejarvy]

welcome to matt rempe’s fight club 💥🥊

[takenforamodernage]

if i had a nickel for every hockey player i liked that was #73 i’d have two nickels……which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice….

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 99% texts. established relationships? the most basic plot idea everrrr bc I watched The Idea Of You before watching a playoffs match. PART 1. 3.5k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I had just gotten home and sprawled out on my apartment's couch, letting Netflix autoplay something random after finishing Brooklyn Nine-Nine again. My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024Today, 3:16 PM UNKNOWN: Alley said she tried to call you, text me when you're on the way to the rink.

My phone buzzed again.

Today, 3:42 PM UNKNOWN: Steph?

Today, 4:01 PM UNKNOWN: Are you on your way or not?

I glanced at my phone, seeing another message from the unknown number. Smirking slightly, typing a quick response.

ME: Not Steph, good luck finding your girlfriend.

I tossed my phone aside and settled deeper into the couch, trying to distract myself from the uninspired short story I had been working on. Hours passed, and I still hadn’t made any progress. The story was just another tall tale that could easily end with "and then I woke up," and at this rate, it might.

My phone buzzed again, and I groaned before reaching for it.

Today, 12:19 AM UNKNOWN: Gross. I was looking for my sister.

I sighed, feeling slightly amused.

ME: Okay? Hope you found her. UNKNOWN: I'm sorry to have bothered you, I realise the area code is wrong.

With nothing better to do, I found myself replying, curiosity piqued.

ME: 212, Manhattan. Nice area, rich boy charm. UNKNOWN: Not really rich, or much charm. But boy, yes. 619, where's that? ME: San Diego.

A pause. I put my phone down, trying to focus back on my assignment, but the ping of a new message distracted me.

UNKNOWN: I'm guessing you're just as bored as I am right now. ME: Definitely bored, that is correct. UNKNOWN: So San Diego, what’s keeping you awake that’s so boring? ME: Nothing much, Manhattan. Just assignments. But it’s only 12:30 here, isn’t it 3 AM in NY? UNKNOWN: That would be correct. ME: Then what’s keeping YOU awake? UNKNOWN: Won my hockey game, went to celebrate, and now I’m just sitting here.

I chuckled, intrigued by the late-night conversation.

ME: Hockey? Do you play for a college team or just for fun?

There was a long pause, a stark contrast to the quick replies earlier.

MANHATTAN: Yeah, I do college hockey. ME: Nice, what position? I don’t know LOTS about hockey or anything, but I'm friends with some guys on the SDSU team. MANHATTAN: Haha, right wing. But really, I just rough people up 💪 ME: Oh cool! (no clue what a right wing does) MANHATTAN: Then what position does your boyfriend play?

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the conversation shift.

ME: I never said that word. MANHATTAN: And I'm just checking. You are a girl, right? I’m not about to hit on a 50-year-old man.

I laughed, surprised by his forwardness.

ME: You’re about to hit on me? Are you meant to tell me that? MANHATTAN: Probably not, but I had a few drinks a bit ago so I can blame it on the alcohol if it goes wrong. ME: Yes, I am a girl. MANHATTAN: Wonderful, now that I know you're not trying to lure me into your mother's basement so you can use my skin as your new rug, can I get your name?

I smirked, enjoying the playful tone.

ME: Whoa, never said anything about NOT making a new rug. I kind of like the whole Manhattan & San Diego anonymous thing we have happening. MANHATTAN: Hmm, I guess so. A secret identity might not be the best move though. ME: Are you sure you want to risk it? Might say something regrettable since it’s 4 AM for you now. MANHATTAN: But it's only 1 AM for you, so it’s a risk I’ll take ;)

I smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

ME: Exactly how many strangers do you text like this? MANHATTAN: If I say only 1 will that make you feel special? ME: So you just go around contacting random numbers in hopes they’re girls your age so you can try to knock their socks off? MANHATTAN: You catch on fast, San Diego.

I rubbed my eyes, getting off the couch, typing as I walked through my small apartment. I passed my roommate’s bedroom, noticing her snoring with her phone still looping the last TikTok she’d been watching.

As I reached my room, I took off my hoodie and left my phone on my bed, watching for the next message.

ME: So, tell me about your hockey match. MANHATTAN: Well… I actually got ejected so I didn’t do much. ME: Ahh, a ruffian. MANHATTAN: All I did was elbow a guy! ME: In the face? MANHATTAN: No comment. ME: While going really fast on knife shoes? MANHATTAN: I said no comment, San Diego 😠😠 But yes. I may have a little notoriety for… enforcing. ME: How many fights does college hockey have? Oh wow. MANHATTAN: I think that's enough of my sports career. Tell me about you. ME: About me? MANHATTAN: I want to know about you. I mean it, tell me something.

I hesitated, then smiled.

ME: Um, I can't think of anything… I just got into bed. MANHATTAN: Then you should go, San Diego, get some rest. Nice chatting with you (and I'll text you later in the day if that's alright). ME: Bye, Manhattan 👋 (and I wouldn't be opposed).

I placed my phone on the nightstand, my thoughts lingering on the unexpected connection as I drifted off to sleep.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I woke up to a new text message, my groggy eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness of my phone screen.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024today 10:32am MANHATTAN: Morning, San Diego! Did you sleep well?

I smiled at the message, feeling a little flutter in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to actually text me again, but here he was.

ME: Morning! I did, thanks 😊 How about you? Finally got some sleep after your 4 am texting spree? MANHATTAN: Eventually, yeah. Slept in a bit, but now I’m back at it. MANHATTAN: Classes and all that. ME: Fun times… What’s your major? MANHATTAN: Business. It’s alright, but hockey’s the real passion. You? ME: English, hence my very exciting letter-writing assignment 🙄 MANHATTAN: Ah, right. The one you’re totally not procrastinating on. ME: Exactly! I’m just waiting for inspiration to hit. MANHATTAN: Maybe I can help with that.

I raised an eyebrow at the screen, intrigued.

ME: Oh yeah? You’re a secret writing genius, Mr. Hockey? MANHATTAN: Hardly. But I’m good at roughing up boring ideas. Give me a shot. What’s the assignment again? ME: I have to write a long letter. Could be to anyone about anything… It's supposed to show off my writing skills. MANHATTAN: How about a letter to a stranger? Like some random person you met by mistake… 👀

I laughed, seeing where he was going with this.

ME: Sounds like something I’d do. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. MANHATTAN: If you need material, I can keep sending you nonsense texts. You know, for inspiration. ME: Careful, I might just put all your deepest, darkest secrets into my assignment. MANHATTAN: Bold of you to assume I have any secrets, San Diego. ME: Everyone has secrets, Manhattan.

There was a pause before he responded, the three little dots appearing and disappearing a few times. I wondered what he was thinking or if I’d said something to make him hesitate.

MANHATTAN: Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out 😉 ME: Smooth. Real smooth. MANHATTAN: It’s part of my so-called charm. So, what’s your day looking like? ME: Not much, honestly. Maybe I’ll hit the library, try to get some work done. MANHATTAN: Or you could do something fun instead. Life’s too short to spend all day in the library. ME: Fun? What do you suggest? MANHATTAN: Well, if you were in Manhattan, I’d say we go skating. But since you’re all the way over there… What do people even do for fun in San Diego? ME: I could go to the beach… but it’s not really the best weather for it today. MANHATTAN: Rainy? ME: Just cloudy, kind of chilly. The ocean looks a bit gloomy when it’s like this. MANHATTAN: Gloomy beaches, sounds like a whole vibe. Maybe that’s your inspiration. A letter to the ocean or something. ME: You really think a letter to the ocean will get me a passing grade? MANHATTAN: If you write it well enough, why not? Make it all deep and meaningful. Professors eat that stuff up. ME: Haha, I’ll think about it. Anyway, what about you? Any big plans? MANHATTAN: Just practice later, then probably hanging out with the team. Nothing too exciting. ME: Sounds like a solid day. Try not to get ejected this time. MANHATTAN: No promises. Gotta keep my reputation, you know? ME: Right, the tough guy. I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: But I’m a softie at heart, San Diego. Don’t let the hockey fool you. ME: Noted. Maybe I’ll write that in my letter. “To the boy who’s tough on the ice but soft underneath…” MANHATTAN: Now you’re getting it. Make me sound mysterious. ME: Mysterious, huh? I’ll see what I can do.

I was grinning now, the banter flowing easily between us. There was something about this random stranger that made me feel lighter, like maybe today wasn’t going to be so dull after all.

ME: Alright, I should actually get ready if I’m going to do anything productive today. But thanks for the distraction, Manhattan. MANHATTAN: Anytime, San Diego. I’ll text you later? ME: Looking forward to it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I was curled up on my couch, a mug of tea warming my hands as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone. The past month had flown by, and my unexpected friendship with 'Manhattan' had become a regular part of my routine. We’d been texting nearly every day, sharing snippets of our lives, random thoughts, and plenty of playful banter. But lately, something had shifted—his messages had taken on a more flirty tone, and, honestly, I didn’t mind it.

My phone buzzed, and I smiled when his contact name popped up on the screen.

Friday, April 12, 2024today 8:45pm MANHATTAN: What’s up, San Diego? Missing me yet?

I couldn’t help but grin at his words. He’d been dropping little hints like this more and more, and each time, it sent a little thrill through me.

ME: Why would I miss you? We just talked this morning 😏 MANHATTAN: I don’t know, you tell me. Maybe you’re secretly counting down the hours until you hear from me again. ME: Oh, totally. I’m just sitting here pining away. MANHATTAN: Knew it. You can’t resist my charm. ME: Your ego is something else, you know that? MANHATTAN: Only because you feed it. Anyway, what’s the plan for tonight? Any hot dates?

I felt a little flutter in my chest at the question, even though I knew he was probably just teasing.

ME: Just me, myself, and I tonight. Super exciting. MANHATTAN: That’s a shame. If I were in San Diego, I’d take you out somewhere nice. ME: Oh yeah? Where would you take me, Mr. Big City? MANHATTAN: Somewhere with a view, good food, and even better company. ME: Wow, smooth talker. Do you use this line on all the girls? MANHATTAN: Only the ones who accidentally text me back 😉

I laughed, shaking my head at his response.

ME: Lucky me, I guess. MANHATTAN: I think I’m the lucky one here.

I paused, reading the message again, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. There it was again—that flirty edge that had been creeping into his texts lately. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

ME: Is that so? MANHATTAN: Definitely. How many girls are cool enough to joke about turning me into a rug and then end up being someone I actually want to talk to every day? ME: Fair point. I’m one of a kind. MANHATTAN: That you are. So, since I’m not there to take you out, what are you doing to entertain yourself? ME: I’m just relaxing, maybe watching a movie later. Nothing too crazy. MANHATTAN: Sounds cozy. I’d offer to keep you company, but I’m not sure you’re ready to handle my charming self in person. ME: Oh, I’m sure I could handle you just fine. MANHATTAN: Careful, San Diego. I might take that as a challenge.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves at his boldness. This was definitely new territory, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying it.

ME: Maybe I want you to.

There was a pause, and I watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, wondering what was going through his mind. My heart raced in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next. Then, my phone buzzed again—not with a message, but with a photo.

I opened it and stared at the image for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips. He was standing in what looked like a hallway, wearing a worn white T-shirt and a Yankees baseball cap. His hair was a little long, curling out from under the cap, and he had a faint mustache that gave him a laid-back, almost mischievous look. His smile was subtle but warm, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect either.

MANHATTAN: Figured it’s only fair you see who you’re talking to.

I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. He was more than I’d imagined—there was something so genuine and relaxed about him, and that easy confidence I’d sensed in our conversations was clearly just a part of who he was.

ME: Not bad, Manhattan. Not bad at all. MANHATTAN: Glad you approve. Now, your turn?

I felt a rush of nerves as I realized he was asking for a photo in return. This felt like a big step—more real than anything we’d done before. But there was also something exciting about it, about finally showing him who I was after all this time.

I took a deep breath, then snapped a quick selfie, trying to capture something that felt natural but not too staged. I hesitated only for a second before hitting send, my heart pounding as I waited for his reaction.

ME: Alright, but don’t judge too harshly.

My phone buzzed almost immediately after I sent the photo. I could practically feel my pulse in my ears as I watched the screen, waiting for his response. It didn’t take long.

MANHATTAN: Wow.

I bit my lip, a small smile creeping onto my face. Just one word, but it was enough to make my stomach flip.

ME: "Wow" good, or "wow" bad? MANHATTAN: Definitely good. You’re beautiful, San Diego. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. There was something different about receiving a compliment from someone who’d only known me through words until now—someone who hadn’t seen my face but still wanted to know more about me.

ME: You’re just saying that. MANHATTAN: I’m really not. I mean it. I didn’t expect this whole wrong-number thing to turn into something like this, but I’m glad it did. ME: Me too. It’s been… nice, talking to you. Getting to know you. MANHATTAN: More than nice, if you ask me. But now that I’ve seen you, I kind of want to see more of you.

My heart skipped a beat at that. The idea of him wanting more, even though we’d only known each other through these messages, made something flutter inside me.

ME: More of me? How so? MANHATTAN: Not in a creepy way, I promise. Just… more of your thoughts, your stories. I like hearing about your day, what you’re up to. I guess I’m just curious about you. ME: You’re making me blush over here. MANHATTAN: Good. You’ve been doing that to me since day one.

I felt my face heat up even more, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how this random guy from Manhattan, who I’d never even met, could make me feel this way.

ME: Well, if you’re really that curious, ask away. What do you want to know? MANHATTAN: That sounds perfect. What’s your favorite book? ME: That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child! How would you feel if I asked you your favorite hockey team? MANHATTAN: New York Rangers. Easy. Number 1 😉 ME: Alright, I'll take your word for it. MANHATTAN: So, tell me something else. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet?

I laughed softly to myself, feeling that familiar warmth from our conversation. The idea of us just getting to know each other like this, little by little, was comforting. It felt safe and exciting all at once.

ME: I’ve always wanted to travel more. There’s a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen a tiny part of it. MANHATTAN: Where’s the first place you’d go? ME: Italy, I think. The food, the history, the art—I want to experience all of it. MANHATTAN: That sounds incredible. I’ve always wanted to see more of Europe, too. ME: Maybe one day we’ll both get there. Until then, I guess we’ll just have to keep texting about it. MANHATTAN: I’m more than okay with that, San Diego. Talking to you is the best part of my day. ME: Same here, Manhattan.

As I set my phone down, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. There was no rush, no pressure—just a growing connection with someone who was quickly becoming more than just a stranger on the other end of a text. And for now, that was more than enough.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

It had been almost a month since the night I saw Manhattan’s face for the first time, and our conversations had only gotten better since then. We talked almost every day, sharing little details about our lives, random thoughts, and sometimes just silence on the other end of the line when we were both too tired to text much. I was surprised by how close I’d grown to him, even without meeting in person.

One afternoon, I got an email from one of my professors that sent my heart racing. My university was offering a select group of students a fully-funded, three-day trip to New York City to attend a special literary conference. The idea was to network, attend workshops, and get a taste of the publishing world in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. And somehow, I’d been chosen.

As soon as I read the email, my mind went straight to Manhattan. The idea of being in the same city as him, even if I wasn’t planning on meeting up, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But as much as I wanted to share the news with him, a different thought crossed my mind—a surprise. What if I didn’t tell him? What if I showed up in his city and surprised him with the news?

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. He’d been so open and sweet in our conversations, and I wanted to do something special. It felt like the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard, in a good way.

That evening, when I grabbed my phone to text him, I felt a little mischievous. I decided to keep the New York trip to myself for now.

Tuesday, May 2, 2024today 8:45pm ME: Hey, how’s your day going? MANHATTAN: Not bad, just finished practice. How about you? ME: Same old, same old. Classes, assignments, you know the drill. MANHATTAN: Ah, the glamorous life of a student. Anything exciting on the horizon?

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to spill the beans.

ME: Nothing too crazy. Just trying to survive this semester. MANHATTAN: You’ve got this. I believe in you, San Diego. ME: Thanks, Manhattan. I appreciate that. MANHATTAN: Anytime. So, what’s on your mind? ME: Honestly, just thinking about how much I’d love to get away for a bit. You know, escape the routine. MANHATTAN: I hear you. If you ever find yourself in need of a change of scenery, you know where to find me 😉

I smiled to myself, knowing that in just a few weeks, I would be much closer to him than he realized.

ME: I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: Good. I’d be happy to play tour guide if you ever made it to the Big Apple. ME: I’ll have to remember that. You seem like you’d be a pretty good tour guide. MANHATTAN: Oh, I am. You’d be in excellent hands.

I chuckled, the idea of actually seeing him in person lingering in the back of my mind. But for now, I decided to keep the surprise to myself.

ME: I’ll bet. Maybe one day I’ll take you up on that offer. MANHATTAN: I hope so. It would be fun.

A sense of anticipation buzzed through me. The thought of being in New York, in his city, and surprising him with my presence was exciting. It was something to look forward to, something just for me, and maybe for him too—when the time was right.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[honeydippedfiction]

🌸- Fluff 🔥-Smut/Sensual 💔-Angst 📸-SMAU

Imagines

Coming Soon

Headcanons

Coming Soon

Series

Coming Soon

[letsyapthenightaway]

The Hockey Boys reacting to you being shipped with another player

Matt Rempe- a Hughes out of all the people who you could get shipped with it had to be Luke Hughes. He's ticked about it but doesn't straight up say it but it shows. He gets even more clingy always pulling you in closer, his head on your shoulder. When he sees reasons as to why you two are being shipped he adds himself into the narrative. "Just because you two fit the tall and skinny + Short and Plus size duo? That's literally us too so..'" I feel like you would get posted a lot more on his socials when this ship starts getting talked about.

Luke Hughes- He will get so annoyed! It's a little funny like "They are shipping you with Matt Rempe! Rempe, out of all people!" Rolls his eyes every single time he sees a tweet. If he sees a tweet about how Matt could carry you while Luke probably can't. He is causing HAVOC proving everyone wrong! he can carry his girl and is showing it off. At a game specifically after a win. Straight out of a movie skates over, picks you up, and spins you with the biggest smile. So smug when those ship posts start to go down and are now being replaced by how cute you two are.

Jack Hughes- "FUAKING TREVAH?!" All of this is because you said you liked his tattoo. I don't know Trevor but from how fans describe him I'm gonna say that he will tease Jack but still in a way that's respectful with his girlfriend. "Mr. Steal your girl" "Shut up, Trevor" He wouldn't take it to heart, would be a silly joke between all of you. "I'm taking your girlfriend on a date!" The dude offered to drop you off at your place. If it's an off day he would softly mention it, only a little insecure but it was still on his mind. Some loving and reassurance will help him real quick. Would make a public comment about how Trevor's tattoo is actually lame, but it's a joke.

Quinn Hughes- With his brother, really? Looks at the tweet and laughs Jack and you would never do that to him. Plus he has way better hair than Jack you said so yourself. I don't think Jack would joke about it, he would probably pull away a little. He wouldn't want that ship blowing up more, he respects you and Quinn. This is about Quinn but I don't think he would let this get to him at all, it would get more to you and Jack. Jack will think of something to get you and Quinn more cuddly in public so the people talk about you two. "look at my brother AND HIS GIRLFRIEND! HIS!!" Oh, how did that picture of Quinn's hand on your butt start trending? The world may never know...

Connor Bedard- Honestly? Wouldn't find out on his own. Someone had to tell him, he walks into the room and just does his default stance "When did you ever say you like older men?" Awkward silence because you have no idea what he is talking about. "They are shipping you with Jack Hughes" idk I feel like as he says that he is walking over making you lay down for a sudden cuddle session. Feel like he would hide his face in your neck with his arms wrapped around you. You would feel him laugh and a muffled "as if" looks up at you with that Bedard smile/smirk pulling you in tighter.

I wish I was lying when I say I spent more than 5 minutes laughing at the fucking Trevor. I was in tears and it isn't even that funny.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Relationship List With Matt Rempe

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Matt isn't usually very affectionate or emotionally expressive. He is rather stoic and has a hard time dealing with his own emotions. He shows his affection through physical gestures like pats on the back or roughhousing. He tends to be rather possessive of those he cares about.

B = Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

Matt is usually the first to approach someone who piques his interest. He tends to be rather straightforward and doesn't hesitate to go after what he wants. He is also rather blunt and tends to speak before he thinks, so the relationship might start with an unexpected and unfiltered interaction. Although he might come off as arrogant and cocky at first, he is rather self-assured and confident.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Matt does enjoy cuddling, although he seldom initiates it. He typically prefers to be the one being cuddled and held. He likes to have his partner wrapped around him, feeling the closeness and warmth of your body against his. He often wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close and nuzzling into your neck. He finds a sense of comfort and security in cuddling.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Matt has never really thought about settling down before. He is focused on his hockey career and isn't sure what he wants for the future. However, deep down, he longs for someone to support him through it all. As for his domestic skills, he isn't exactly a master chef, but he knows how to make simple meals. He is rather clean and organized but lacks the finer domestic skills necessary to run a household.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Matt is not good at dealing with emotional situations and often avoids confrontation, especially when it comes to relationships. If he had to break up with his partner, he would most likely do it quickly and abruptly, not wanting to deal with the emotions and discomfort that would come with a prolonged breakup. He might even avoid a face-to-face conversation and do it over text or call instead. He struggles with expressing his feelings and his emotions, so it would be a rather cold and detached breakup.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Matt has never really considered marriage before. Commitment scares him a bit, given his intense focus on his hockey career. However, deep down, he does have a romantic side and dreams of finding someone to spend his life with. If he were to get engaged, he would not rush into it. He would need time to make sure it's the right decision and that it wouldn't interfere with his career. He might even need some convincing and reassurance before taking the plunge.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Matt is not particularly gentle, either physically or emotionally. He tends to be a bit rough around the edges, his large and muscular frame often giving the impression of a brutish thug. However, he does have a softer side that can emerge when he lets his guard down or is with someone he trusts. He can be tender and gentle, especially when it comes to protecting those he cares about. Despite his intimidating appearance, he can also be surprisingly caring and considerate.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Matt might not seem like the hugging type at first, but he does enjoy receiving them, especially if they come from someone he cares about. He tends to give tight and firm hugs, pulling his partner in close and wrapping his arms around them in a protective embrace. He also enjoys those lingering, extended hugs, the kind where time seems to stand still, and he feels the warmth of your body against his.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Matt is not one to say 'I love you' lightly or hastily. He struggles with expressing his emotions, and those three little words hold a lot of weight for him. He would only say it if he truly meant it, and even then, he might struggle to get the words out. It would take a lot of time and effort to earn his trust and make him feel safe enough to express his feelings openly. Matt values actions over words, and he would show his love through his deeds and his unwavering support rather than saying it outright.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Matt is fairly possessive and protective of those he cares about, which can sometimes lead to him feeling jealous. He tends to get easily irritated when he sees you talking to or being close to another person, especially someone he perceives as a potential threat. If he gets jealous, he might try to assert his claim on you by being more affectionate or clingy. He may also become more possessive and may even exhibit some aggressive behaviors to signal to potential rivals that you are off-limits.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Matt's kisses are intense and passionate, as if he were pouring all of his emotions into them. He loves deep kisses, where he can feel the heat and the closeness between you. He isn't particularly picky about where he kisses you, but he does have a few favorite spots. His favorite is probably your neck, where he can leave a trail of soft kisses and occasionally nibble on the skin, trying to find that sweet spot that makes you shiver. He also loves kissing your forehead, the gesture tender yet protective at the same time.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Matt is not particularly comfortable around children, especially young ones. His intimidating appearance and intense demeanor tend to make him feel out of place in situations involving them. However, if he spends enough time with them and warms up to them, he might show a softer side. He can be surprisingly good with animals, though. He has a natural way with them, and they seem to respond well to his gentle, yet firm demeanor.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the mornings, Matt is not a morning person. He usually wakes up with a groggy, grumpy expression on his face. He needs some time to wake up and get going, and if you try to interact with him too much, he might just grunt at you and glare back. Once he's fully awake, he starts to soften up a bit, and he becomes somewhat more communicative. He enjoys quiet mornings with your presence, even if he doesn't exactly show it.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Matt is a bit more lively and easygoing at night. He usually goes to sleep late, staying up to watch movies or read books. He also enjoys nighttime activities, like taking a walk outside, or having a late-night drive. Once he's in bed, he likes to have you close to him, wrapping his arms around you protectively. He often has trouble falling asleep but finds comfort in having you there, knowing you're safe and sound by his side.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Matt tends to be pretty closed off and guarded when it comes to revealing things about himself. It takes him a while to trust someone enough to open up. In the beginning, he might only share small tidbits or superficial details about his life, while keeping the more personal and painful things hidden. However, as the relationship progresses and he feels comfortable and secure with you, he might start to open up gradually, revealing more and more about his past, insecurities, and feelings.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Matt has a relatively short fuse, and he tends to get easily irritated and angry. He can be quite impatient and often has a hard time controlling his temper, especially when things don't go his way. When he gets angry, he can become quite aggressive and might lash out with harsh words or even physical outbursts. He has a hard time being patient and controlling his emotions, and he often has to take some time to cool off before he can have a rational conversation.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Matt is surprisingly observant and has a good memory when it comes to things that are important to him. He tends to remember small details and tidbits about you, like your favorite food or your favorite color, or things you mentioned offhand. However, when it comes to mundane or trivial things, he might not remember them as clearly. He tends to focus on the things he finds interesting and meaningful, and he will remember those details with a surprising level of accuracy.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Matt's favorite moment in the relationship is when the two of you are alone together, cuddling in bed. There is something about the closeness and intimacy of those moments that make him feel at peace and at ease. He loves the feeling of your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, or the way your fingers feel as you run them through his hair. He cherishes those quiet moments with you, where it feels like the rest of the world fades away and it's just the two of you in your own little bubble.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Matt is fiercely protective and quite possessive of those he cares about, and that includes you. He tends to be on high alert, constantly scanning his surroundings for any potential threats. He doesn't like seeing you in danger or feeling unsafe, and he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means putting himself in harm's way. As for how he likes to be protected, deep down, he craves comfort and reassurance, even if he doesn't readily admit it. He appreciates when you look out for him and show him support, especially in moments of weakness or uncertainty.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

In the beginning of the relationship, Matt might be a bit more enthusiastic and put more effort into special occasions like dates and anniversaries. He would want to impress you and show you that he cares. As the relationship progresses though, he might tend to get more comfortable, and the effort he puts in might decrease. However, he still cares about you and wants to make you happy, so he would try to show his affection in other ways, like getting little surprises or doing thoughtful deeds. Generally, he would put in enough effort to let you know he cares, but it might not always be extravagant or grand gestures.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Matt has a few bad habits, one of which is his tendency to bottle up his emotions. He has a hard time expressing his feelings and often keeps things to himself, which can lead to misunderstandings and conflicts. Additionally, he can be quite stubborn and has a hard time admitting when he's wrong. He can be quite competitive, which can sometimes lead to him being arrogant or aggressive.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

While Matt does take care of his appearance and likes to look good, he doesn't tend to be particularly vain. He doesn't obsess over his looks or spend hours in front of the mirror, and he is confident in his own skin. He might make sure his hair is tidy and his clothes are neat, but he doesn't necessarily put a lot of effort into it. As far as your looks are concerned, he is more concerned about your happiness and well-being than your outward appearance. He might occasionally compliment your looks, but it's not something that consumes him.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Matt had never given much thought to the concept of being incomplete without someone until he met you. It's something he has trouble admitting to himself, but deep down, he has a nagging feeling that he would feel incomplete without you in his life. Despite his stoicism and tough guy exterior, he has grown to rely on you for comfort and stability, and the thought of losing you would be unbearable for him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Matt has a secret weakness for cutesy, adorable things, despite his rough and tough exterior. He might try to hide it, but he can't help but secretly find a sense of comfort and joy when he encounters something cute, like a small puppy or a baby animal. And if he ever comes across a video of a kitten playing with a toy, well, he might just secretly melt a little inside, even if he would vehemently deny it if asked.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Matt has a few things he really doesn't like. He isn't a fan of overly cutesy or needy behavior, and if you're too clingy or overly emotional, it tends to drive him away. He can also be put off by people who are pretentious or full of themselves. He also has a low tolerance for people who make insensitive or bigoted remarks, especially towards those he cares about. He also dislikes people who are fake or two-faced, and if someone seems disingenuous or untrustworthy, he will immediately distance himself from them.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

Matt is a bit of a restless sleeper. He tends to toss and turn a lot, and it's difficult for him to find a comfortable position. He also has a habit of talking in his sleep, mumbling words and phrases that are indecipherable to anyone but himself. When he sleeps next to you, he tends to settle down a bit, finding comfort in your presence. He still might move around a bit, but he usually doesn't talk in his sleep as much when you're there.

[lukesvangelista]

hey matt!!!

[sssunflowersmiles]

remps with popstar gf is cute but what ab him with rockstar gf...

ABSOLUTELY I CAN!

[biancadrawz]

Matt Rempe