#matt rempe yn

[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.

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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?”

[blakeswritingimagines]

Rock My World (Little Country Girl)

Summary: Couldn't stop thinking about cowboy! Matt Rempe and now you have to suffer for it

Warnings: Smut, PnV, PwP, Talk of past hook-ups, cowboy/bull-riding Matt, Jealous! Matt, Mention of drinking, Friends with benefits type relationship, Public Sex, Wall sex, Talk of reader having a female body... can't think of anything else

Word Count: 3.1k

Matt slammed the door of the bar open and stumbled inside, his boots clomping against the wooden floor. His brown cowboy hat sat low on his head, partially obscuring his dark eyes. As he made his way to the counter, he spotted a familiar face sitting in the corner booth. It was you. Matt's heart skipped a beat as he watched you laugh at something one of your friends said. He felt a pang of jealousy as he saw a male companion sitting next to you.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, his eyes never leaving you. The drink arrived and he downed it in one long gulp. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he saw the way your companion leaned in close to you, a smirk on his face. Matt's hands clenched into fists, his thoughts consumed by the sight of you with another man. Taking a deep breath, he made his way over to your booth. The sound of his boots against the floor causing the conversation to stop. Your companion looked up at him, his eyes narrowing as he took in Matt's tall, muscular stature. "Can we help you, cowboy?" Matt's eyes flicked to the man before turning to you. "Actually, I was hoping I could have a word with the lady here," he said, his voice low and controlled. You looked up at him, surprise evident in your eyes. Your companion puffed up his chest, clearly not happy with this interruption. "We're having a private conversation here," he said, his voice carrying a clear warning. Matt took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I didn't ask if I could interrupt your conversation. I asked if I could speak with the lady." Your companion gritted his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides. But before he could say anything, you spoke up. "It's okay, I can handle this." Your companion looked at you with a mix of surprise and annoyance, clearly unhappy with your decision. You stood up, your eyes meeting Matt's in a steady gaze. "Let's talk."

Matt felt a flicker of triumph at your response. He nodded and gestured for you to follow him outside. As you left the booth, your companion called out to you, but you didn't look back. Once outside, Matt led you a short distance away from the bar where the noise of the rowdy crowd faded into the background. The cool night air hit you like a gust of wind, ruffling your hair. Matt turned to face you, his eyes searching your face. The silence between you was tense, the air thick with unsaid words. You waited for him to speak, your heart beating a little faster than usual. Matt was struggling to find the right words. He had so many things he wanted to say, but somehow they all seemed to get stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath, finally finding his voice. "You look good," he said, his eyes roaming over your figure. He looked down at his boots, the toe kicking up dirt. You felt a flutter in your chest at his compliment. You hadn't seen each other in weeks, and you had been expecting a different kind of greeting. You studied his face, trying to read his expression. "Thanks," you replied, your voice soft. "You don't look too bad yourself." Matt felt a small smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours. He cleared his throat, trying to push past the lump that had formed there. "That guy you were with inside… he your boyfriend?" You could hear the edge in his voice, the hint of jealousy. You shifted your weight, crossing your arms over your chest. "No," you replied. "He's just a friend."

A sigh of relief escaped Matt's lips before he could stop it. He tried to cover it with a cough, but it was obvious he was relieved to hear he wasn't your boyfriend. "Right. So, you just hang out with random men at bars in the middle of the night?" Your eyes narrowed at his tone. "I don't see how that's any of your business," you shot back. You took a step closer, your chin lifting defiantly. "And I can hang out with whoever I want, whenever I want. I don't need your approval." Matt's jaw clenched at your words. "I never said you did," he retorted, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I just don't understand why you'd choose to spend your time with a lowlife like that, that's all." You bristled at his insult, your temper flaring. "He's not a lowlife," you argued. "He's a good guy. Not that you'd know anything about that." Matt's eyes darkened at your jab. He took a step closer, his body nearly pressed against yours. You could feel the heat coming off him in waves. "Oh, and I suppose you think I'm some kind of monster, huh?" Matt's voice was low, his words a challenge. You held your ground, refusing to back down. "If the boot fits," you replied coolly. Your heart was racing, but you did your best to keep your expression neutral. Matt's lips parted in a wolfish smile. "You've always been a spitfire," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your face. "That's one thing I've always liked about ya." You felt your breath catch at his words, your heart skipping a beat. You didn't want to let him know how much his words affected you, so you forced yourself to scoff. "Oh, please. Spare me the sweet talk, cowboy." Matt chuckled, clearly enjoying how you were reacting. He reached out and traced a finger down your jawline, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "What if I don't want to?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to his touch. "You can save the charm for someone who buys it, Rempe," you retorted, forcing your voice to stay steady. Matt's eyes flashed at your words. He leaned in even closer, his body pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of leather and musk filling your senses. "You don't think I'm charming, honey?" he drawled, his lips brushing against your ear. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart thundering in your chest. You wanted to tell him off, to push him away, but your body was betraying you. "Charming is the last word I'd use to describe you," you managed to say, trying to sound defiant. Matt chuckled again, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Your body instinctively pressed against him, your hands resting on his chest. "And what word would you use, darlin'?" he inquired, his voice a low rumble. You mentally cursed yourself for the way your body was responding to him, despite your brain adamantly refusing to cooperate. You tried to find the right words, but your mind was fuzzy with every nerve aware of his body against yours. "Arrogant," you managed to bite out. "Egotistical. Smug." A cocky smirk tugged at the corners of Matt's lips. His arms tightened around you, his hands resting possessively on your hips. "You forgot one," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Irresistible." Your heart fluttered against your will, your resolve starting to crumble. You tried to hold onto your irritation, but it was slipping away. "Don't flatter yourself," you muttered, but the words came out much softer than you intended. Matt chuckled softly, the sound sending vibrations through your body. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a smug smile still on his lips. "Ah, now that's not very polite," he teased, running a hand up your spine. "I think I should punish you for being so rude." Your breath caught in your throat again at his words. Your brain was screaming at you to push him away, to not let him get to you like this, but your body was having none of it. "Punish?" you repeated, trying to sound unimpressed. "And just what do you have in mind, cowboy?"

Your mind was spiraling. Your body was on fire, the feeling of him against you sending shockwave through you. You wanted to resist, to push him away, but the rational part of your brain was slowly being overpowered by the primal desire rising within you. "And what makes you think I'd let you?" you managed to ask, though your voice was breathless and needy. Matt's lips curved into a wolfish grin against your neck. He nipped at your skin, his teeth leaving a stinging trail on your flesh. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll let me do whatever I want," he murmured, his grip on your hips tightening. "And you're gonna love every minute of it." All the blood in your body seemed to rush downwards at his words. A small moan escaped your lips involuntarily, your body arching against his. You hated the lack of control you had over yourself when he was touching you like this. And yet, you couldn’t deny the heat that was pooling in your core, silently begging for more as if having forgotten all about the other guy still waiting for you in the bar. Matt seemed to sense your internal struggle, sensing the weakening of your resistance. His lips traveled up to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "You want me, don't you, honey?" he growled, his voice a mix of arrogance and certainty. "You just can't bring yourself to admit it." A part of you wanted to push him away, to run back to the safety of the bar and the man who'd been waiting for you there. But another part of you craved his touch, his dominance, the way he made you feel so… alive. With a sigh, you gave in, surrendering completely to the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins. "Yes," you whispered, barely audible even to your own ears. "I want you." Matt chuckled deeply, his hand moving from your hip to the small of your back. He pulled you closer, pressing his hard length against your lower belly. "Good girl," he purred, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "Now tell me what you want."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making it difficult to think straight. The alcohol clouded your mind further, rendering you incapable of resisting his demand. "I… I want you to take me," you breathed out, your voice trembling with anticipation and desire. You looked up at him, your breath hitching in anticipation. You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding desperate. Finally, you settled for simplicity, whispering the words as if they were sacred. "Make love to me." Matt's eyes darkened at your request, his hand trailing down your back to rest on your ass. He squeezed firmly, pulling you flush against his body. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave lower. "That's exactly what I plan to do." As his words washed over you, a wave of excitement coursed through your veins, amplifying the throbbing between your legs. You could hardly contain the tremor in your voice as you replied, "Then please… I need you now." You reached up to cup his face tenderly, pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss that left both of you panting heavily once it broke off. Matt groaned into the kiss, his tongue sliding past your lips to tangle with yours. He broke the kiss only to reach behind you, unzipping your dress and sliding the fabric off your shoulders. The dress pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching thong. He ran his hands down your sides, tracing the curves of your body with his fingers as he pushed you closer to the wall right outside the bar. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he muttered, his eyes roaming over your form hungrily. "And this ain't for your new fella, is it?" The heat from his touch makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, it isn't…" You reached up to undo his shirt buttons, revealing his muscular chest beneath. Your hands traced the lines of his abs, causing you to bite your lip to suppress a moan. You're unable to meet his eyes as he took in the sight of your nearly bare body. You shook your head, biting your lip nervously. "No… It's not for him at all…" You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. You moved to press yourself against him again, your body craving the warmth of his touch.

Matt smirked, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. He slid the lacy garment down your arms, letting it fall to the ground before reaching around to palm your breasts. He kneaded them gently, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. "So, you're telling me this pretty little thing is mine to play with?" he asked, his voice low and husky. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his hands move to your breasts, causing your body to shudder with pleasure. You nod eagerly, your cheeks flushed with arousal. "Y-yes," you stutter, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's all yours…" You lean in to capture his lips in a heated kiss, your tongue darting out to trace the outline of his lips. Matt groans into the kiss, his hands moving from your breasts to slip around to your back. He slid your thong down, letting the tiny piece of clothing pool at your feet before lifting you up against the wall. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he orders, his voice rough with lust. Your heart pounds in your chest as you obey his command, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. You reach down to unbuckle his belt, your fingers shaking with anticipation. You pull his pants and underwear down enough to free his erect member, which you stroke tentatively with your fingertips. Matt grunts as you free his cock, his hand reaching down to guide yours along his shaft. "Like that, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breathing heavy and ragged. "Just like that." He aligns himself with your entrance, teasing you by rubbing his tip against your wet slit. "You ready for this?" Your body trembles with anticipation, your walls clenching around nothing as you wait for him to fill you. You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes… I'm ready." You reach down to guide him inside of you, gasping softly as he pushes past your entrance. You arch your back, pushing your hips towards him as you adjust to his size.

Matt groans as you wrap your tight pussy around his cock, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He thrusts into you slowly, savoring the sensation of being buried deep within your warm cunny. "God, you're so fucking tight," he mutters, his voice strained with pleasure. He begins to move faster, his thrusts becoming more powerful with each passing second. Your nails dig into his back as he picks up the pace, your body writhing against the cold brick wall. You cry out in ecstasy, your walls contracting rhythmically around his cock as you approach climax. You lean in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, muffling your cries as you finally succumb to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. Matt breaks the kiss, his breath coming in short gasps as he continues to fuck you against the wall. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Fuck yeah," he groans, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That's it baby, ride my cock." Your body moves instinctively, grinding against him as he thrusts deeper. You moan softly, your voice hoarse from screaming out in pleasure. You reach down to rub your clit in slow circles, amplifying the sensations coursing through your body. You arch your back, pushing your hips towards him as you prepare for one final push over the edge. Matt grunts as you rub your sensitive clit, the extra stimulation driving him wild. He thrusts harder, his cock twitching inside of you as he approaches climax. "Fuck, I'm close," he warns, his voice thick with pleasure. He quickens his pace, fucking you mercilessly until he can hold back no longer. With a loud groan, he buries himself deep within your cunt, his hot seed filling you up. Your body shudders violently as he releases inside of you, the feeling of his hot cum triggering your own orgasm. You scream out in ecstasy, your walls clenching rhythmically around his cock as you ride out the waves of pleasure. You collapse against the wall, panting heavily as you come down from your high.

Matt withdraws from you slowly, his spent cock slipping out of your still quivering cunt. He pulls up his pants, zipping them back up before turning to help you fix your clothes. "That was fucking amazing," he murmurs, running a hand through his hair. "You're something else, sweetheart." Your body feels weak and satisfied as you lean against the wall, catching your breath. You smile shyly at his compliment. "Thank you…" You glance down at your clothes, fixing the last few details before looking up at him as you said the same words from last time. "That was just a one time thing… it can't happen again." Matt raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a wry smile. "A one time thing, huh?" He steps closer to you, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek gently. "Too good for the likes of me, aren't you? Just remember though, sweetheart… we both know you're lying to yourself because it never is just a one time kinda thing between us." Your cheeks flush pink at his words, your gaze falling to the ground. You nod slowly, knowing he's right. "Maybe… But it doesn't change anything." You reach up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek before turning to walk away, leaving him standing alone by the wall. "See ya around, cowboy." Matt watches as you walk away, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows you're lying to yourself, but he also knows better than to push you too hard. For now, he lets you go, content to let you come crawling back when you realize you can't get him out of your mind. As you disappear back into the crowded bar, he shakes his head and smiles to himself. "One of these days, sweetheart… One of these days."

[brainddeadd]

Devils in Her Corner

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Luke Hughes x fem!reader, Dawson Mercer x fem!reader, Trevor Zegras x fem!reader, Matt Rempe x fem!reader, Matthew Kines x fem!reader, Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Drafted to the New Jersey Devils alongside Luke Hughes, a young, talented hockey player is determined to make her mark in the NHL. Having already survived the pressures of college hockey at UMich, she steps into the spotlight once again—only this time, the stakes are higher.

With old friends like Luke by her side and a newfound support system in Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, and Dawson Mercer, she learns that success on the ice is only part of the battle. Off the ice, she navigates growing bonds, locker-room banter, and the challenges of being one of the only women in a male-dominated sport.

Meanwhile, connections with familiar faces—like Trevor Zegras and Matthew Knies—blur the lines between friendship and something more, while Matt Rempe, once a friend, now a rival, ensures every game against the Rangers feels personal. In the midst of competition, camaraderie, and a spark of romance, she discovers that finding her place in the NHL might be her biggest challenge yet.

With the Devils in her corner, she’s ready to take on whatever comes her way—on and off the ice.

Day one of training

Someone hits her hard on ice

Bad day

Sick day

All Star

Summer with the Devils Boys: Lake House Shenanigans - summer shenanigans

Loss

Meeting Quinn

Haunted house

Popcorn and panic

Halloween party 2024

Halloween party 2024 no.2

Little Sister of the Devils

Thanksgiving

Deck the Malls with Chaos and Hockey Boys

Lights, Chaos, Action: The New Jersey Devils Christmas Movie Marathon

Christmas Chaos with the New Jersey Devils

New Year’s Eve

Valentine’s Day

Rivalries and mixed feelings

Pretty in pink

Caught in the crossfire

Online hate

The interview

Yn's Birthday

Rivalries and dinner

Dropping gloves

Bar creeps and protection squad

Fights and firsts

First kiss aftermath

First Date

Secrets, Freak-Outs, and Confessions

Support and shovel talks

Between Rivalries and Romance: A Shovel Talk Initiation

Cuddles

Realisations

Through the dark

The cancer game

A Day With Trevor

Safe haven

Support

Payback's a bitch

Halloween party 2025

Two lines or one

// upcoming chapters //

[lovinbarzal]

DAYS OFF | MR73

matt rempe x fem! wnba player!reader

masterlist | fc nika mühl | a/n y'all i love matt rempe & i LOVE nika mühl so enjoy this

hollywoodpop has posted !

liked by uconnbbqueen, lnupdates, and others

hollywoodpop 🚨HOT NEWS🚨

Just two months after breakup with Jacob Elordi, basketball star, Yn Ln is been rumored to be with New York Rangers Center, Matt Rempe.

The two were first spotted together Sunday morning at a local coffee shop with Rempe's sister. The two appeared to be very close.

That night Ln was seen with Matt by a fan who asked for a picture.

Then Monday night, Matt, along with his sister, was seen by a bunch of people at the Uconn vs Seaton Hall game.

Although Ln was asked about this in her press conference after the game, she chose to keep it simple saying, "It's apart of my personal life that I wish to keep private for now."

What are your thoughts???👀

Leave them below ⬇️

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lnupdates LEAVE MY GIRL ALONE!! LET HER LIVE HER PRIVATE LIFE PLS!!!

rempestempe matty boy you could do so much better....

libertyrangers i think they're cute tbh

ynisthestandard FINALLY A HAPPY RELATIONSHIP FOR HER?! LIKE LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE LOOKS IN THE LAST PIC WITH THE FAN!

ynln has posted !

liked by mattrempe, seattlestorm, and others

ynln crumbs as of late

tagged paigebueckers aaliyahedwards_24 aubrey.griffen44 mattrempe

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uconnfan087 OMFG SHE HARD LAUNCHED WTH?!

mattrempe lauver girl💐

↳ ynln lova boi💖💖

lnupdates omfg they're so cute!!

paigebueckers baller and pucker??????

↳ ynln go to sleep p 💤

azzi35 cute❤️

chriskreider19 finally.

↳ ynln just be happy for me for once

↳ chriskreider19 never.👎🏼

ynlover69 not the hockey player💀

↳ lnupdates girl leave her alone & let her be happy!

↳ ynlover69 hockey players are known to be cheaters lmao

↳ ynlover69 she should've gotten back together with jacob

↳ lnupdates if she's happy just let her live

rempespuck we love a tall couple😭💖

uconnwbb baby is all grown up😢💙

aaliyahedwards_24 miss you pookie bear!

↳ ynln miss you too shawty bae😔

jacobtrouba 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

caitlinclark22 love this for you, y/n/n!❤️❤️❤️

ynln posted on her story !

[mommahughes19-23]

https://www.tumblr.com/puck-bunny-for-all/752478044850143232/matt-rempe-x-yn-hughes-on-the-stadium-series

That's totally fine

ok perrffff ill get it out soon for u angel baby!

[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.

[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

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 5 | 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. 5.2k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We hugged briefly, and it felt oddly natural—like we’d done this a hundred times before. When we pulled apart, he gave me a once-over, his grin turning playful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re a lot shorter in person.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re a giant. Everyone’s short compared to you.”

“Fair point,” he said, stepping aside to let me lead the way toward the counter. “But I think you owe me an apology for all the grief you’ve given me about my height.”

“You’ll survive,” I shot back, glancing over my shoulder at him.

We ordered our drinks, and while we waited, the conversation came easily. It was almost disarming how normal it felt, standing there with him, joking about the ridiculous fake names on the order screen (“Rempe with a P? Really?”) and arguing over who would pay (“Matt, it’s coffee, not a Michelin-star dinner”).

Once we had our drinks, we found a quiet table in the corner. I’d picked this coffee shop intentionally—low-key, tucked away from the busier streets—and it seemed to work. No one gave us a second glance, even as Matt adjusted his baseball cap like he was expecting paparazzi to burst through the door at any second.

“So,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “does this count as me giving you the grand tour of San Diego?”

He smirked. “If this is your idea of a tour, I’m disappointed.”

“Okay, Mr. Critic,” I said, raising a brow. “What do you want? Beaches? Tacos? Both?”

“Both sounds good,” he admitted, taking a sip of his drink. “But let’s not rush it. I’m enjoying the coffee and company.”

My cheeks warmed at the way his tone softened on the last word, but I kept my composure. “Well, lucky for you, I have an entire day planned.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows lifted, and I could see the faintest hint of surprise behind his confident facade. “You’ve been planning this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said, smirking. “I just figured it would be better than watching you pace around the hotel room.”

He laughed, the sound low and genuine. “Touché.”

We spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing. He told me stories about life on the road with his team—carefully avoiding any specifics that might give away his identity to anyone listening—and I shared some of my most ridiculous college anecdotes, which had him laughing so hard at one point he nearly spilled his coffee.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his cup down. “I’ve got to admit, this is way more fun than I expected.”

“Wow, what a glowing review,” I said, feigning offense. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He grinned. “It is. I just didn’t think hanging out in a coffee shop could feel…easy, you know?”

“Maybe it’s the company,” I suggested, my voice light but my heart hammering.

“Maybe it is,” he said, holding my gaze just a second longer than necessary.

For a moment, the noise of the coffee shop faded into the background. The banter, the jokes, the nerves—it all melted away, leaving only the quiet, unspoken connection we’d built over the months.

He broke the silence first, leaning back in his chair and flashing me a crooked smile. “So, about this grand tour…”

“Yes?”

“Think it includes tacos and a sunset?”

“Definitely,” I said, matching his grin. “But only if you can keep up.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to me.

I took it without hesitation, his touch warm and grounding. As we stepped out into the sunny San Diego afternoon, I couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something I didn’t quite have the words for yet—but whatever it was, I knew I wanted to see it through.

The day flew by in a blur of laughter and stolen moments. We grabbed tacos at a local stand he immediately declared “life-changing,” walked along the beach with our shoes in hand, and watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

“You know,” he said as we stood at the water’s edge, his hands shoved into his pockets, “I wasn’t sure how this would go.”

“Why?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“Because meeting someone in real life…it’s different,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “But this? You? It’s better than I imagined.”

His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn’t think of a clever response. So instead, I just smiled, the kind that reached my eyes.

“Same here,” I said softly.

He smiled back, his expression open and unguarded in a way that made my chest ache.

As the waves lapped at our feet, I realised something: whatever this was—whatever it could become—I was ready to take the chance.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

By the time we got back to the coffee shop parking lot where we’d left our cars, the city had gone quiet, the hum of the day giving way to the stillness of the evening. Matt leaned against his car, arms crossed, watching me with that same unreadable expression I was starting to recognize as his way of holding back.

“I guess this is it,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something deeper.

“For tonight,” I replied, clutching my keys a little tighter than necessary.

He tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, San Diego.”

“Good,” I said before I could stop myself.

His smirk softened into a smile, the kind that made it hard to look away. “So,” he said, pushing off the car, “what’s next? Another tour? A baseball cap-and-sunglasses situation?”

I laughed, the sound more nervous than I wanted it to be. “We’ll see. Depends on how much trouble you want to cause.”

“I’m not the troublemaker here,” he teased, stepping closer. “You’re the one sneaking around with a professional hockey player.”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “If anyone’s sneaking around, it’s you.”

“Fair,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But for the record, I like sneaking around with you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, heavier than the teasing tone they’d been delivered in. For a moment, we just stood there, the quiet of the night wrapping around us like a cocoon.

“I had fun today,” I said finally, my voice softer than I intended.

“Me too,” he replied, his gaze holding mine. “You’re pretty good at this whole real-life thing.”

“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

We stood there for a moment longer, neither of us seeming ready to leave. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice lower than before. “Drive safe, okay?”

“You too,” I said, stepping back toward my car.

As I opened the door, he called out, “Hey.”

I turned to look at him, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“This doesn’t count as our only tour, right?” he asked, one hand resting on the roof of his car.

“Not even close,” I said, smiling.

He nodded, looking satisfied. “Good.”

I slid into my car, the warmth of his gaze lingering long after I drove away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

That night, lying in bed, I stared at my phone for what felt like forever before typing out a message.

Tuesday, September 10, 2024 Today, 11:51PM ME: Today was fun.

It took him less than a minute to reply.

MATT: It was. MATT: So…next time tacos are on me?

I smiled, shaking my head.

ME: You’ve got yourself a deal.

His response was almost immediate:

MATT: Finally I get my chance to woo you like a true gentleman

I set my phone on the nightstand, a quiet laugh escaping me as I pulled the covers up.

It was still new, still uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next day felt like it dragged on forever. My morning classes passed in a blur, and by the time my last lecture ended, I was practically buzzing with nerves. It wasn’t every day that a 6'8" hockey player casually showed up on campus to meet me.

When I stepped out of the lecture hall, Matt was already there, leaning against the bike rack like he belonged on a billboard instead of a college campus. He was wearing a dark hoodie pulled low over his head and a pair of sunglasses, the kind of look that screamed “trying not to be recognized” while also being ridiculously conspicuous.

“You know,” I said as I approached him, “if you’re trying to blend in, you’re doing a terrible job.”

He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing that lopsided grin of his. “Hey, this is my best incognito look. Don’t knock it.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the sight of him. “You look like you’re about to rob a convenience store.”

“Well, I’ve got to protect my reputation,” he said, falling into step beside me as we headed toward the parking lot. “Can’t have anyone finding out I’m sneaking off campus with the coolest girl here.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, I’m sure people are lining up to take pictures of me.”

“Maybe they should be,” he shot back, his tone light but sincere enough to make my cheeks warm.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice called out behind me “Y/N! Hey, is that you?”

I turned sharply, spotting my friend Rachel walking across the quad toward us. My stomach flipped, and not in a good way. Rachel wasn’t the kind of person to let something like this slide without a million questions.

Matt glanced at me, his brow raised in silent question.

“That’s my friend,” I muttered, already feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “We need to go.”

“Why?” he asked, though he was already moving with me as I grabbed his arm.

“Because if she sees us together, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Without thinking, I laced my fingers through his and tugged him along, my heart racing as we half-walked, half-jogged toward the parking lot.

“Y/N!” Rachel called again, her voice closer now.

“Move faster,” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to see her gaining on us.

Matt didn’t say a word, but his hand tightened around mine, his long strides easily keeping pace with me. It wasn’t until we reached his rental car that I realized how ridiculous we must look—a frantic girl dragging a guy who could probably pick her up with one hand.

He unlocked the car with a quick press of a button, and I all but shoved him toward the driver’s side. “Get in, get in!”

He chuckled as he opened the door, sliding into the seat. “You’re surprisingly bossy when you’re in panic mode.”

“Just drive!” I said, slipping into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind me.

Rachel reached the edge of the parking lot just as Matt pulled out, her confused expression shrinking in the rearview mirror. I exhaled a long breath, leaning back against the seat.

“That,” Matt said, his tone amused, “was the most exciting escape I’ve ever had on a college campus.”

I turned to him, realizing our hands were still joined. I quickly pulled mine away, my cheeks burning. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said, glancing over at me with a grin. “I kind of liked it. Felt like we were in a spy movie or something.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “She’s going to text me like twenty times asking who you are.”

“Just tell her I’m your overly tall, very photogenic friend.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in my chest finally easing. Despite the chaos, it was hard to feel anything but light when I was with him.

As we drove toward the movie theater, I stole a glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe this wasn’t how I imagined today going, but holding his hand—even for a moment—felt like the start of something I hadn’t dared to dream about before.

The drive to the movie theater was filled with a mix of banter and quiet moments that felt just as comfortable. He’d picked a smaller theater in a nearby neighborhood, one that wasn’t likely to attract too much attention.

“I thought we’d try to keep it low-key, and Google said this cinema gets an average of 12 customers a day,” he said as we pulled into the parking lot.

“Smart move,” I replied, glancing around at the unassuming building.

Matt climbed out of the SUV, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, I watched him scramble around the front of the car to the passenger side. He paused dramatically before opening the door for me, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Chivalry’s not dead, huh?”

“Not when I’m involved,” he said with a wink.

Inside, we bought our tickets and a ridiculous amount of snacks, Matt insisting on carrying everything because “it’s the least I can do.”

“You’re single-handedly keeping this theater in business,” I teased as he precariously balanced the popcorn, candy, and drinks.

We found seats near the back of the theater, and as the lights dimmed, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. He was focused on the screen, a faint smile on his lips, but as if sensing my gaze, he turned his head and caught me.

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Just…it’s still weird seeing you in real life.”

He chuckled softly. “I could say the same about you.”

The movie started, and for a while, we both fell into the story, sharing laughter and the occasional whispered comment. It felt easy, natural—like we’d done this a hundred times before.

At one point, his hand brushed mine as he reached for the popcorn. Neither of us moved away immediately, and I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine. My breath caught, but I forced myself to focus back on the screen, my pulse racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the movie.

When the credits rolled, we lingered for a moment, neither of us in a hurry to leave. But eventually, we made our way back to his car under the soft glow of the streetlights, the air between us buzzing with unspoken words.

“So,” he said as we climbed in, “on a scale of one to ten, how bad was that movie?”

I laughed. “Solid six. But the company made up for it.”

“Good save,” he said, his grin widening as he started the car.

The drive back to my apartment was quieter, the kind of silence that felt companionable rather than awkward. When he pulled up to the curb outside my building, I hesitated for a moment before unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Thanks for today,” he said, his tone softer now. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” I replied, feeling the truth of it settle in my chest.

He leaned against the steering wheel, looking at me like he wanted to say something more. Finally, he asked, “See you tomorrow?”

I nodded, my smile growing. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As he drove away, I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, the cool night air brushing against my skin. My cheeks ached from smiling, and my heart felt a little lighter.

Whatever this was between us—whatever it might turn into—I couldn’t wait to find out.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next day came faster than I expected. Between classes and trying to focus on a group project, my mind kept drifting back to Matt. I hadn’t told my friends much, only that he was “someone I’d been talking to for a while.” It wasn’t a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the full truth.

When my last class ended, I stepped outside into the warm late-afternoon sun, scanning the parking lot for Matt. I spotted him leaning against the rental car, sunglasses on and arms crossed casually. He looked so effortlessly cool that I almost laughed.

“You trying to be in a movie poster or something?” I called as I approached.

He grinned, pushing the sunglasses up onto his head. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling anyway.

He opened the passenger door for me—again—and I didn’t bother teasing him this time. “You’re really consistent with this chivalry thing,” I said as I climbed in.

“Hey, I have to make up for all the times I couldn’t do it over FaceTime,” he replied, shutting the door behind me before jogging around to the driver’s side.

The drive to the beach was easy, the salty air growing stronger as we got closer. He’d suggested a sunset picnic, complete with food he’d picked up from a local spot he’d “googled extensively.”

“So, how was class?” he asked as we walked down to the sand, a blanket slung over his arm and a bag of food in hand.

“Pretty boring compared to this,” I said, gesturing at the ocean stretching out before us. “You’re setting the bar pretty high, Manhattan.”

“Good. I like a challenge,” he said, spreading the blanket out in a spot with a perfect view of the water.

We sat side by side, unwrapping sandwiches and chips as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The conversation flowed easily, moving from his last game to my classes to random trivia.

“You know,” he said between bites, “I was worried this might be weird.”

“Weird how?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like…what if we didn’t click in person the way we do over text or FaceTime?” He hesitated, then added, “But it’s not weird. It’s better.”

His words caught me off guard, and I looked down at the sandwich in my hands, suddenly hyperaware of how close we were sitting.

“I feel the same,” I admitted quietly.

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle crash of the waves. Then he turned to me, his expression soft but serious. “So, does this count as a date, or do I need to up my game?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You tell me. You’re the one who planned it.”

“Well, if it is a date,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “I think it’s going pretty well.”

I didn’t have a clever comeback for that, so I just smiled, letting the moment settle around us. The sky darkened as we lingered on the blanket, the distant sound of seagulls fading into the rhythmic crash of waves. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to leave, the easy flow of conversation filling the space between us.

“I’m impressed,” I said, gesturing to the now-empty food containers. “You didn’t oversell this picnic thing. It was actually really good.”

Matt smirked, brushing some sand off his hands. “High praise coming from someone who almost turned me down for this.”

“Almost,” I emphasized. “But I didn’t.”

“And aren’t you glad you didn’t?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, maybe,” he shot back, his grin widening.

Before I could respond, a gust of wind whipped past us, tugging at my hair and sending a shiver down my spine. Without a word, Matt shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to me.

“Here,” he said.

“You don’t have to—”

“Just take it, San Diego,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent.

I gave in, slipping the hoodie over my head. It was warm and smelled faintly of his cologne, a mix of woodsy and clean that made my stomach flip. “Thanks,” I mumbled, tugging the sleeves over my hands.

“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning back again, his gaze drifting out toward the ocean.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the stars beginning to dot the darkening sky. I glanced over at him, his profile outlined by the soft glow of the moonlight.

“You look like you belong here,” I said without thinking.

He turned to me, one eyebrow raised. “What, on a beach?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean…just, here. Like this. Relaxed. Happy.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked at me like I’d said something important, something that mattered.

“I think that’s because of you,” he said quietly.

My heart skipped, the weight of his words settling in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

“You don’t have to say things like that,” I said, trying to play it off, though my voice wavered slightly.

“But I mean it,” he replied, his tone steady.

The vulnerability in his gaze made it impossible to look away. For a brief, reckless moment, I considered leaning in, closing the small distance between us.

But then he broke the tension with a smirk. “Plus, if I said it’s because of the sandwiches, I’d sound like a jerk.”

I laughed, grateful for the reprieve. “You’re lucky you’re funny, Rempe.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of things,” he said, his voice softer now.

The words hung in the air, and I didn’t know what to say in response. Instead, I leaned back, letting the sound of the waves and the warmth of his hoodie wrap around me like a shield against the uncertainty of whatever this was turning into.

As the night deepened, he finally stood and offered me a hand. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you home before you freeze.”

I took his hand, the touch grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. “Thanks,” I said, letting him pull me to my feet.

“For what?”

“For tonight,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It was…perfect.”

His smile was small but genuine. “Good. Because I don’t plan on this being the last time.”

And as we walked back to the car, I realised I didn’t want it to be, either.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I strolled into my lecture hall, clutching a coffee and running a little later than I’d planned. The classroom buzzed with pre-class chatter, students flipping through notes or scrolling on their phones.

Sliding into my usual seat near the middle, I tugged the hood up and slouched in my chair, trying to fight the remnants of sleepiness still clinging to me. Matt’s hoodie—warm, soft, and ridiculously oversized—felt like a comforting cocoon.

“Okay, spill.”

I glanced up to see my friend plop down in the seat next to me, her eyes immediately zeroing in on my outfit.

“What?” I asked, playing innocent as I took a sip of my coffee.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she said, leaning closer. “That hoodie is not yours. Whose is it? And why are you wearing it like it’s a security blanket?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral. “It’s just a friend’s. No big deal.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A friend? Since when do you borrow hoodies from friends?”

“It was cold last night, okay?” I said, lowering my voice. “He let me borrow it. End of story.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest. “He? Oh, this just keeps getting better. Is it the same mystery guy you keep texting during literally everything? Because if it is, I need details.”

I groaned, knowing there was no way she’d let this go. “Can we not do this here? Class is about to start.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, smirking. “We’ll circle back.”

As the professor started the lecture, I tried to focus on the material, but my friend’s amused glances made it nearly impossible. I could feel her scheming from two feet away.

Halfway through class, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Subtly, I glanced at the screen under the desk.

Friday, September 13, 2024 Today, 9:15am MATT: Good morning, San Diego. MATT: Hope my hoodie’s getting a better education than I ever did.

I bit back a smile, quickly typing a reply.

ME: It’s sitting through Intro to Philosophy. I think it misses the rink.

His response came almost immediately.

MATT: Pretty sure it’s thrilled to be near you.

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I tucked my phone away before my friend could notice.

After class ended, my friend caught up with me as we walked out of the building. “Okay, so who is he?” she demanded.

I sighed. “He’s…a guy I’ve been talking to for a while. It’s nothing serious.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re wearing his hoodie in public. That’s at least medium serious.”

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He’s someone I met through mutual friends, and we’ve been hanging out. That’s all.”

“For now,” she said knowingly. “But if he’s making you smile like that, I want to meet him. Soon.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that “meeting him” might come with a whole host of complications neither of us was ready for. Instead, I just nodded, tucking my hands into the hoodie pocket and thinking about how things felt a little less complicated when it was just me and Matt.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of lectures and assignments, but my mind kept drifting back to Matt. Every time I reached into the hoodie pocket or caught its faint scent, it was like a little reminder of him, tugging at my thoughts.

By the time I was in my last class of the day—a dull elective I’d taken mostly to fill a credit—I was practically counting the minutes until it ended. That’s when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Frowning, I glanced down at the screen. It was Matt.

Normally, he’d text, especially if he knew I was in class. My stomach tightened as I slipped out of my seat, mouthing a quick “bathroom” to the professor before ducking into the hallway to answer.

“Hey, everything okay?” I asked, ducking into the hallway.

“Not really,” he said, his voice rushed and tinged with frustration. “I’m on my way to the airport.”

“What?” I stopped in my tracks, clutching the phone tighter. “Why? I thought you were staying through the weekend.”

“I was,” he said, letting out a sharp breath. “But they’re making all the Rangers players fly back to New York ASAP. Something about scheduling changes and needing to finalize practice rink times. It’s a mess.”

My heart sank. “Matt…”

“I’m so sorry,” he cut in, his words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want to just leave without saying anything. This wasn’t supposed to happen, San Diego. I swear, I thought we had more time.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly, though disappointment clawed at my chest.

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “I feel like an ass. I dragged you into this, made plans, and now I’m bailing. I hate it.”

I leaned against the wall, wishing I could reach through the phone and shake him out of his guilt. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Stuff happens, right? It’s not like you’re choosing to leave.”

There was a pause, filled with the muffled sounds of an airport terminal. Then he sighed. “I just… I don’t want this to mess things up between us. This weekend was supposed to be about spending time together.”

“Matt,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “it’s fine. Really. We’ve been friends this long, even across time zones. What’s a little more distance?”

Another pause, then a low chuckle that was more sigh than laugh. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Just call me your personal pep talker,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Then, with a wry grin, I added, “Besides, it’s Friday the 13th. What did we expect? Things to go smoothly?”

That got a real laugh out of him, warm and familiar even through the phone. “You’re probably right. Should’ve seen it coming.”

“Definitely,” I replied, my smile lingering even as my chest tightened.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his tone firm now. “As soon as I can, I’ll be back. And next time, we’ll do things right.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I replied, forcing a cheerfulness I didn’t entirely feel.

“Okay,” he said, softer now. “I’ll text you when I land. And thanks for…you know, not being mad.”

“Safe travels, Manhattan,” I said, my voice quieter.

“You too, San Diego,” he murmured before the call ended.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, the empty hallway feeling just a little colder, before heading back into class. If the past few months had taught me anything, it was how to keep moving forward—even when the person I wanted most was miles away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued (one last time)... hehehe

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 2 | 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. 3.6k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I could barely contain my excitement as I sat in the bustling airport with my classmates, waiting for our flight to New York. My leg bounced with nervous energy, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks, but now that it was finally here, the anticipation was almost too much to handle.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” my friend Lauren teased, nudging me with her elbow as she sipped on her overpriced airport coffee.

“I can’t help it,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going to New York!”

“Yeah, but you look like you’ve just won the lottery or something,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s got you so giddy?”

I bit my lip, trying to tone down my excitement. I couldn’t exactly tell her about Manhattan, about how I was going to surprise him by being in his city. The thought alone made me feel like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

“I guess I’m just excited to finally see the city,” I said, half-truthfully. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Well, it’s going to be amazing,” Lauren agreed, leaning back in her seat. “I can’t wait to explore. Have you got any plans for when we’re not at the conference?”

“Not really,” I lied. “I figured I’d just wander around, see where the city takes me.”

In reality, I had been meticulously planning out my free time, making sure I’d have the chance to visit some of the places Manhattan had mentioned in our conversations. Central Park, the Brooklyn Bridge, and maybe even that bagel place he’d raved about. But I wasn’t going to tell Lauren all of that. Not yet.

As we waited to board, my phone buzzed with a message from Manhattan. I glanced at the screen, my heart doing a little flip as I saw his name pop up.

Wednesday, May 29, 2024Today, 10:17 AM MANHATTAN: What are you up to today, San Diego?

I couldn’t help but smile as I typed out my response, the excitement of the trip making it hard to keep the secret.

ME: Just hanging out, nothing too crazy. How about you? :) MANHATTAN: Same here, just getting ready for another big game. A little exciting. What’s got you in such a good mood today?

He knew me too well. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to drop a hint or keep the surprise going.

ME: Let’s just say I’ve got something fun planned. I’ll tell you all about it later. MANHATTAN: You’re killing me with suspense here, San Diego. Now I’m curious.

I chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as I imagined his reaction when I finally told him—or when I maybe even bumped into him in his own city.

ME: Patience, Manhattan. You’ll find out soon enough. MANHATTAN: I guess I don’t have a choice. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.

I tucked my phone back into my bag, my smile refusing to fade. This trip was going to be unforgettable, and not just because of the conference. I could hardly wait to step off the plane and onto New York soil, knowing that Manhattan had no idea what was coming.

“Alright, they’re boarding our flight,” Lauren said, standing up and grabbing her bag. “You ready?”

“More than ready,” I said, grabbing my own bag and following her to the gate, my heart racing with anticipation. New York, here I come.

As the plane descended into New York, my excitement was at an all-time high. I couldn’t wait to explore the city, but more than that, I couldn’t wait to surprise Manhattan. The plan was simple: I’d head to his college, catch one of his hockey games, and finally meet him in person. I could already picture the look on his face when he saw me there.

After dropping my bags off at the hotel and freshening up, I decided to send him a quick message. I needed to get some information without giving away my plan.

ME: Hey, how’s hockey going? My friend is heading to New York soon, and I was thinking maybe she could grab me a hoodie from your college. ME: Which college do you go to again?

I stared at my phone, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I watched the typing bubble appear. I wondered if he’d catch on to what I was trying to do, but he probably thought I was just being curious.

The typing bubble kept appearing and disappearing, and I felt my anticipation build. What was taking him so long?

Finally, his message came through.

MANHATTAN: Long Island University. Let’s go Sharks! 🦈

I smiled to myself, mentally filing away the information. LIU. Perfect. Now I just needed to find out when their next game was and how to get there. The idea of seeing him in action, playing the sport he was so passionate about, made me even more excited.

ME: Cool! I’ll definitely ask her to grab me one. LIU sounds like a great school. MANHATTAN: It is. I’m really enjoying it here. Hockey’s been great too.

I leaned back in my seat, feeling a rush of excitement. Everything was falling into place. In just a few days, I’d be at LIU, watching him play, and he had no idea what was coming.

ME: Glad to hear it! Maybe one day I’ll get to see you play in person. MANHATTAN: I’d like that. But for now, you’ll just have to settle for the hoodie 😉

I laughed, feeling a surge of anticipation. He had no idea that “one day” was much sooner than he thought.

ME: I guess I will. But who knows what the future holds? MANHATTAN: True. The future’s full of surprises.

I couldn’t agree more. Little did he know, the biggest surprise was about to come his way. I tucked my phone away, feeling more determined than ever. Tomorrow, I’d make my way to LIU, ready to see Manhattan in his element. This trip was turning out to be more thrilling than I’d ever imagined.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I woke up early, my heart racing with anticipation. Today was the day I’d finally see Manhattan play hockey. After a quick breakfast with my classmates, I made up an excuse about needing some time alone to explore the city. They didn’t ask too many questions, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain that I was sneaking off to surprise a guy I’d never actually met in person.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I set off toward Long Island University. The city buzzed with energy as I navigated the subway system, and I could hardly keep still as I imagined what the game would be like. What would he look like on the ice? Would I recognize him immediately?

When I finally arrived at LIU’s campus, I felt a rush of excitement. The rink was larger than I expected, and the atmosphere was alive with the buzz of college sports. I spotted a few people in Sharks gear and made a mental note to grab a hoodie later—something to remember this day by.

Just as I was about to head inside, my phone buzzed with a message from Manhattan.

Thursday, May 30, 2024Today, 9:00 AM MANHATTAN: What are you up to today?

I hesitated for a moment, torn between keeping the surprise and telling him something closer to the truth.

ME: Just wandering around, checking out some new places. You? MANHATTAN: Nothing too exciting, just got some practice. Gotta stay sharp for the game tomorrow.

My heart skipped a beat. If he was heading to practice, that meant he’d be at the rink soon. I grinned, feeling like everything was falling perfectly into place.

ME: Busy day for you then. Good luck with practice!

I tucked my phone away and stepped into the rink. The cool air hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the warm, bustling city outside. I found a seat near the middle, close enough to see the action but far enough to stay somewhat hidden. The rink was buzzing with the energy of casual practice, but I didn’t see anyone who looked like Manhattan.

Confused, I glanced at my phone again, but decided to focus on enjoying the moment. Maybe everything would still work out.

As the few players on the ice began to pack up, I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. With a mix of nerves and excitement, I made my way down to the edge of the rink where the three boys were gathering their gear. They looked friendly enough, chatting and laughing as they peeled off their jerseys.

"Hi there," I greeted them tentatively, hoping not to intrude.

"Hey," one of them replied with a smile, while another gave a nod in acknowledgment.

Feeling a bit bolder, I held up the picture of Manhattan that I had saved on my phone. "Do you guys happen to know him?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

The boy closest to me glanced at the picture and furrowed his brow. "Is this a test, or a bad joke?" he replied, a hint of confusion in his voice.

I blinked, taken aback by his reaction. "No, not at all," I said quickly. "He's a hockey player, right?"

The boy let out a chuckle, exchanging a glance with his teammate who rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he's a hockey player," he replied, his tone slightly mocking. With that, he skated off towards the locker rooms, his friend following close behind.

Left standing there, I turned to the last boy who was gathering his equipment. "Do you know where I can find him?" I asked, my voice tinged with disappointment.

He shrugged apologetically. "I don't know, maybe try MSG or something," he suggested, referring to Madison Square Garden. With that, he picked up his stick and followed his teammates off the ice, leaving me feeling confused and unsure of what to do next.

I stared after them for a moment, my heart sinking. Maybe this was a mistake after all.

Feeling disheartened and unsure of what had just transpired at the rink, I made my way back to the hotel. My mind was still spinning with confusion and disappointment over not finding any trace of Manhattan. As I walked through the lobby, Lauren immediately noticed something was off.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

I forced a smile, trying to brush off my disappointment. "Nothing, just tired," I replied vaguely.

To cheer me up, she leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey, you like hockey, right? There's some playoffs happening tomorrow, and apparently they're really shitty seats, but Professor Tenner says we can all go since it's included in the expo."

Her attempt to lift my spirits caught my attention. Playoffs sounded exciting, and even though I was still reeling from the day's events, the prospect of attending a hockey game in New York City was enticing, even if it wasn't one of Manhattan's games like I'd hoped.

"Really?" I perked up, feeling a glimmer of excitement return. "That sounds like fun. I could use a distraction."

She nodded eagerly. "Exactly! We'll forget about everything and just enjoy the game."

I nodded in agreement, grateful for her effort to turn things around. Perhaps the disappointment of today would fade with the thrill of tomorrow's game.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

As we rode the subway towards Madison Square Garden, the excitement of the upcoming hockey playoffs managed to distract me momentarily from the strange encounter at LIU's rink earlier. The subway car was filled with fans dressed in jerseys, hats, and scarves, all buzzing with anticipation for the game. It was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile as I saw the neon signs outside the arena proclaiming, "NEW YORK RANGERS VS FLORIDA PANTHERS, 2-2 TIED SERIES."

Glancing at my phone, I noticed several unread messages from Manhattan. They started off flirty, but the last few were increasingly concerned:

Friday, May 31, 2024Today, 7:00 PM MANHATTAN: Made my sister take this so you can see how hard it is being so tall and attractive

MANHATTAN: Hey, haven't heard from you all day. Everything okay? ❤️ MANHATTAN: Did something happen? You're acting weird. MANHATTAN: Seriously, just let me know you're okay. MANHATTAN: San Diego??? MANHATTAN: I'm starting to get worried now. Please, just tell me what's going on.

Each message tugged at my conscience, but right now, with the game looming ahead and the vibrant energy of the city around me, I couldn't bring myself to reply. Turning off my phone, I focused on the lively scene outside as we emerged from the subway. Madison Square Garden towered above us, its exterior adorned with banners and flags of the Rangers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the chatter of excited fans and vendors selling snacks and memorabilia.

My friend nudged me excitedly. "This is going to be awesome," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

I nodded, a surge of anticipation building within me. Stepping into the bustling concourse of the arena, I marveled at the sea of blue and red jerseys, each person radiating their team pride. It was infectious, and I found myself caught up in the excitement of being part of such a passionate crowd.

Finding our seats, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not responding to Manhattan's messages. I promised myself I would explain everything later, after the game. Right now, I needed to immerse myself in the thrill of playoff hockey and enjoy this unforgettable experience in the heart of New York City.

Just before the game began, one last text came in from Manhattan. The notification popped up on my screen, and I couldn't ignore it any longer:

MANHATTAN: Starting to think I messed things up. Please talk to me. I have to go, but PLEASE tell me you're okay.

The urgency in his message was palpable, and it weighed heavily on my mind. I knew I owed him an explanation, but right now, surrounded by the anticipation of the playoff game at Madison Square Garden, I couldn't find the words to reply.

My friend noticed my troubled expression and gently asked, "Everything okay?"

I hesitated for a moment, torn between the excitement of the moment and the guilt of leaving Manhattan hanging. "Yeah, just some stuff going on," I replied vaguely, hoping she wouldn't press further.

She nodded understandingly, sensing my reluctance to talk about it. "Well, let's focus on the game. It's going to be amazing!"

I managed a small smile, grateful for her distraction. As the national anthem played and the teams took the ice, the crowd erupted into cheers. The energy of the arena was infectious, and I found myself swept up in the excitement despite my lingering worries about Manhattan.

As the players came out and the game began, the atmosphere inside Madison Square Garden was electric. The puck dropped, and the game progressed smoothly until midway through the second period. Number 73, newly on the ice, was skating hard when suddenly, number 91 from the opposing team delivered a hard hit. The crowd erupted into shouts and boos as the large screen replayed the hit, the referees finally calling a penalty.

In the midst of the chaos, the camera panned back to the live action, focusing on New York Rangers' number 73 as he removed his helmet. And there he was—Manhattan.

My heart skipped a beat as I watched him on the screen, his presence confirming that the mystery friend who had been texting me was indeed using a picture of Matt Rempe. Confusion and disbelief flooded my mind. Had I been lied to this whole time? Was this some elaborate prank or misunderstanding?

As Manhattan skated off the ice, I felt a mix of emotions—surprise, disappointment, and a tinge of betrayal. The crowd's cheers and the game's intensity became distant background noise as I tried to process everything. The realization that Manhattan was real and here, playing hockey in front of me, collided with the unsettling feeling that someone had deceived me.

I glanced at my friend beside me, who was still cheering enthusiastically for the Rangers. She turned to me with a bright smile. "This is amazing, right?"

"Yeah," I managed to reply, forcing a smile while my mind raced with unanswered questions.

As the game continued, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Manhattan on the ice. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, one thing was clear—there was much more to this story than I had ever imagined.

On the way out of the game, the crowd slowly dispersing around us, I couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and confusion. I pulled out my phone and hesitated for a moment before typing out a message to Manhattan.

ME: So, was this all just a joke? Using someone else's photos to pretend to be someone you're not?

The message hung in the air, my thumb hovering over the send button. I felt a mix of anger and hurt, wanting desperately for there to be some explanation that would make sense of everything. But as the seconds ticked by, doubts crept in. What if I had been naive to believe in this connection all along?

My friend glanced over at me, sensing my unease. "You okay?" she asked gently.

I forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside. "Yeah, just… something came up," I replied vaguely, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

Finally, I pressed send, the message disappearing into the digital abyss. As we made our way through the bustling streets of New York City, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that the person I thought I knew as Manhattan might not be who he claimed to be after all.

The crowd outside Madison Square Garden buzzed with post-game energy, but my focus was solely on my phone, waiting for Manhattan’s reply. The seconds dragged on before my screen lit up with his response.

MANHATTAN: What? A joke? What are you talking about?

I clenched my jaw, frustrated by his confusion. How could he not understand?

ME: I saw you. Or, I guess I saw the real you. You’ve been sending me photos of a hockey player this whole time, pretending it was you. Matt Rempe. Ring a bell?

I hit send, my emotions swirling between hurt and anger. Was this his way of getting a laugh? Why string me along like this?

His response came quickly this time.

MANHATTAN: Wait, what? I didn’t lie to you, I swear. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.

I scoffed at my phone. Was he really going to keep this act up?

ME: You sent me his photo. Matt Rempe. Number 73 for the Rangers. I saw him on the ice tonight.

My hands were shaking slightly as I typed, overwhelmed by everything. How could he keep denying it when I’d literally just seen Matt?

There was a longer pause before his next message.

MANHATTAN: I didn’t lie. I never pretended to be someone else. I’m really confused right now. How did you… how did you see me?

My breath caught. Why did he sound so genuine? My mind scrambled to piece it together. How could he not know that I’d seen the very guy whose pictures he’d been sending? It didn’t make sense.

I typed again, my heart pounding.

ME: I saw him play. I was at the Rangers game tonight. You’ve been using his pictures this whole time, and now I feel like an idiot for believing you.

There was another long pause, and I could imagine him, wherever he was, sitting there trying to figure out what had just happened.

The longer I waited, the more the knot in my stomach tightened. Finally, my phone buzzed again with his reply.

MANHATTAN: I’m so confused. How did you end up at a Rangers game? I never sent you anyone else’s photos. I swear. I don’t even know what’s going on right now. ME: I came here for a school trip. I wanted to surprise you, so I went to what you told me was your University yesterday to see you play hockey. I thought it’d be this cute moment, but you weren’t there. Some guys at the rink acted weird when I asked about you, and I couldn’t figure it out. Then today, at the game, I saw Matt Rempe... The guy in the photos you’ve been sending me. MANHATTAN: Wait. You’re in New York? You went looking for me??? MANHATTAN: Okay, this is all a big misunderstanding, and I need you to believe me. I’m not lying. I am Matt Rempe. ME: No, you're not. Stop it. If this is your way of messing with me, just admit it. Why would you pretend to be someone like him? You think I wouldn’t find out? MANHATTAN: I’m not pretending. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I also didn’t want to throw all that stuff at you so fast. I’m sorry if it feels like I’ve been hiding things, but I wasn’t trying to trick you. I swear. ME: So what, you’re just Matt Rempe all of a sudden? I’m supposed to believe that you’re the guy I watched get slammed on the ice tonight? MANHATTAN: Yes. I wanted to tell you but we became friends and never stopped the little nickname thing, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.

I stared at the message, my head spinning. How could this be true? I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 4 | 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. 3.4k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The reality of everything started to settle in. I’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, from surprise to anger to cautious reconciliation, that I hadn’t fully considered what came next.

Sooner or later, I’d have to tell Matt my name. My real name.

The thought sent a ripple of unease through me. Would it change things between us? Up until now, our friendship—our whatever-this-was—had existed in this weird, nickname-protected bubble. “Manhattan” and “San Diego” were fun, safe, and detached from the weight of real identities. Stripping that away felt… vulnerable.

What if things got awkward? What if he thought less of me somehow? What if putting a name to who I was made everything feel too serious?

I chewed on my lip, glancing at my phone. I stared at the screen for what felt like forever, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Finally, I typed a single word and hit send.

Thursday, May 30, 2024 Today, 9:55AM ME: Y/N.

The message sent, and I felt my pulse quicken. Before I could overthink it, I followed up with another.

ME: Y/N Y/L/N.

I stared at the messages, anxiety bubbling up in my chest. Would he say anything? Would it even matter to him?

A few seconds passed, then my phone buzzed.

MATT: Well, Y/N Y/L/N… it’s nice to finally meet you. 😊

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, staring at his response. It was simple—lighthearted, even—but it melted away some of the tension I’d been carrying since I pressed send.

ME: You don’t think it’s weird? MATT: What? Knowing your name? Definitely not. ME: It changes everything, doesn’t it? MATT: Only in the best way.

His words made me pause. I hadn’t expected him to say that, and the knot of worry in my chest started to loosen.

MATT: I don’t know what you thought would happen, but it’s not like I suddenly see you differently. MATT: You’re still San Diego to me. Just now I can call you Y/N and actually picture you saying, “Hi, Matt.”

I laughed softly, earning a curious glance from my seatmate. I turned back to my phone.

ME: I’ll have you know I say “Hi, Manhattan” with way more charm.

His reply was instant.

MATT: Prove it.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

The bus pulled into the airport terminal, the cityscape shrinking behind us as we piled off to grab our bags. The reality of leaving New York hit me all over again. As much as I’d needed this trip to end, the thought of putting an ocean of distance between us now felt strange.

As I waited for my bag to come off the bus, my phone buzzed again.

MATT: Hey, Y/N. MATT: I mean it. I’m glad you told me.

Something about seeing my name next to his words gave me a strange, fluttery feeling.

ME: I’m glad I did too. MATT: So, now that I finally know your name, does this mean I don’t have to call you San Diego anymore? ME: I mean, you could stop… but wouldn’t that ruin the fun? MATT: You make a good point. Besides, I’ve gotten kind of attached to it.

I smiled at his response, shifting my bag on my shoulder as we filed into the terminal.

ME: So I’m still San Diego, huh? MATT: Always.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. After all this, it still felt surreal—like I’d been holding my breath for weeks, and now that the truth was out, I wasn’t sure what to do next. But Matt’s steady, easy replies reminded me why I trusted him in the first place.

ME: for the record, you’re still Manhattan. MATT: I’d be offended if I wasn’t.

I laughed softly to myself, earning a curious glance from my friend as we stopped at the check-in line.

ME: You’re taking this all surprisingly well, you know. MATT: What can I say? I’m full of surprises. 😉 ME: You are a lot more chill than I expected for someone with your reputation. MATT: Oh? What were you expecting? A cocky NHL player? ME: Something like that.

I could practically hear his laugh through the phone when his reply came.

MATT: Guess I’ll have to work on being less humble.

The group started moving forward, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. But even as I focused on getting through security, I couldn’t stop the small, steady smile on my face.

For the first time since I’d landed in New York, I felt like I wasn’t just trying to keep up with the chaos. Instead, I was leaving with something new—something unexpected, but maybe exactly what I needed.

As we settled into the airport lounge, I scrolled absentmindedly through my phone, rereading Matt’s last message and trying not to smile too much. My friend plopped down beside me with a sigh, setting her carry-on bag at her feet. She didn’t say anything at first, but then she turned to me with a pointed look, her arms crossed.

“Okay, girl, what has been happening?” she said, her tone dripping with exasperation. “Your phone has sent you into about 30 different mood swings this weekend, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you giggling at texts for however long. Spill.”

I blinked at her, caught off guard. “What? Nothing’s happening.”

“Don’t even try it,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve been glued to your phone since we landed, and I know that dopey little smile you get when you’re texting someone. It’s not just random, so don’t even pretend it’s about homework or whatever.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but her stare told me I wasn’t getting out of this. Sighing, I tucked my phone into my pocket and leaned back in my seat. “Fine. But just—promise you won’t freak out, okay?”

“Why would I freak out?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well…” I hesitated, picking at the edge of my sleeve. “There’s this guy I’ve been talking to. For a while, actually.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward like she was ready to pounce on every word. “Oh my god. Keep going. Who is he? Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know him,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “We met online a few months ago. He’s…different. In a good way. Really sweet, really funny. Athletic- Big fighter. We just…clicked, I guess.”

She stared at me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wait. Is this why you’ve been weird about your phone this whole time? Are you like—are you falling for him?”

“What? No!” I said, a little too loudly, earning a couple of glances from the people around us. “It’s not like that. We’re just—friends. Close friends.”

She smirked, not buying it for a second. “Right. Sure. And you’re giggling at his texts because…friendship.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You like him,” she teased, nudging my shoulder. “And it’s okay! I mean, if he’s as great as you’re making him sound, I say go for it.”

I hesitated, the weight of everything I wasn’t telling her pressing down on me. “It’s complicated,” I admitted finally. “There’s…a lot about his life that I didn’t know until recently. It’s been a little overwhelming, but he’s trying to make things right.”

“Overwhelming how?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Just—stuff I wasn’t expecting,” I said vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t push for more. “But I really do trust him. And I think…I think we’re figuring it out.”

Her smile softened, and she reached out to squeeze my hand. “If he’s making you happy, that’s what matters. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too, okay?”

I nodded, grateful that she wasn’t prying any further. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

“Of course,” she said, sitting back in her chair. After a beat, though, her smirk returned. “So, do I get to see a picture of this mystery guy, or are you gonna keep me in suspense?”

“Not a chance,” I said, laughing despite myself.

“Ugh, fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “But just so you know, I’m rooting for you two.”

I smiled at her, my chest feeling a little lighter. Even if I couldn’t share the full truth, having someone in my corner still meant something.

The flight boarded without incident, and soon enough, we were cruising at altitude. I leaned against the window, watching clouds drift by like slow-moving waves. My friend was deeply engrossed in her e-reader, leaving me some space to think.

Despite our talk in the airport lounge, my mind was still tangled with everything that had happened this weekend. Meeting Matt—well, technically not meeting him—had turned my world sideways. For months, he’d been a name, a face, a voice on my phone. And now, knowing the full truth about who he was…it made everything feel real in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

I kept my phone in my bag this time, deciding to let the weight of the weekend settle in silence. I couldn’t shake the strange mix of anticipation and hesitation coursing through me. Everything between Matt and me had shifted, and while I didn’t regret it, I wasn’t entirely sure what came next.

Leaning back in my seat, I watched the clouds stretch endlessly outside the window, their stillness contrasting with my swirling thoughts. My friend eventually glanced over, nudging me gently.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She looked at me like she didn’t quite believe it but let it go, her attention returning to her e-reader.

The rest of the flight passed in a blur, and before I knew it, we were landing back in San Diego. As the wheels touched down and the cabin filled with the familiar sounds of people gathering their things, I finally pulled out my phone.

ME: Landed safely.

His reply came almost instantly.

MATT: Glad you didn’t get stuck. How was the flight? ME: Fine so far. My friend’s still giving me side-eye because I wouldn’t show her your picture. MATT: Why not? I’m very photogenic.

I laughed quietly, shaking my head.

ME: Because she’d figure out who you are in about 0.2 seconds, genius. MATT: Fair point. Can’t have you blowing my cover. MATT: (Also, now I’m wondering what you told her about me.) ME: Just that we’ve been friends for a while. Nothing too crazy. MATT: You didn’t tell her how charming I am? I’m offended. ME: Obviously not. I don’t want her stealing you. MATT: Oh, so I’m yours now?

I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks warmed slightly at his teasing.

ME: Don’t push it, Manhattan.

The chat went quiet after that, and I rested my head back against the seat, letting my thoughts wander.

As strange as this weekend had been, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had changed something between us—for the better. Knowing who he really was hadn’t pushed me away. If anything, it had made me more curious about the person behind the nickname, the person who’d become such a big part of my life without me even realising it.

And maybe…just maybe, that was worth holding onto.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Two months passed in a blur, but Matt and I never lost touch. If anything, our conversations became more frequent. The texts ranged from playful teasing to long, thoughtful exchanges that stretched late into the night.

The dynamic between us felt natural, easy—but there was an undercurrent of something new now. A spark of anticipation I couldn’t quite ignore, like we were both waiting for something to happen.

One night, as I sat cross-legged on my bed, scrolling through TikTok to procrastinate on my homework, my phone buzzed.

Tuesday, July 9, 2024 Today, 4:17PM MATT: Big game tonight. Send me some good luck vibes or I’ll blame you if we lose.

I smirked, typing back.

ME: Wow, no pressure or anything. Good luck, though. Knock ‘em dead, #73. MATT: You really do your homework, huh? ME: You’ve only mentioned your jersey number, like, a thousand times. Hard to forget. MATT: Good. Means you’re paying attention. MATT: Seriously, though. This one’s big. ME: You’ll crush it. You always do.

There was a pause before his next text came through.

MATT: You have way too much faith in me, San Diego. ME: Somebody’s gotta keep you humble. MATT: That’s rich, coming from the person who called me a “big fighter” to her friend on a bus.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at the memory.

ME: You’re never letting that go, are you? MATT: Never. It’s iconic.

I grinned, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed:

ME: Let me know how the game goes.

After the game, he did. It became a pattern—him updating me after games, sometimes venting about a loss or celebrating a win, always with his signature blend of humor and charm.

One night, as I lounged on my couch watching Netflix, he FaceTimed me out of the blue.

“Wow, bold,” I said as I answered, holding my phone up so he could see my raised brow.

“You’re the one who said to call if I needed to rant,” he shot back, flopping onto what looked like his hotel bed.

“Rough night?”

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “We lost in overtime. It sucked.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “Overtime losses are brutal.”

“See? This is why I call you. You get it.”

I laughed. “What, none of your teammates understand your pain?”

“They’re not nearly as nice to me as you are,” he teased, flashing a grin that made my stomach do a little flip.

“You should tell them to start a support group for overpaid, overhyped athletes,” I quipped, earning a mock gasp.

“Wow, okay. Remind me why I called you again?”

“You like the abuse.”

He laughed, and the sound was so warm and familiar that I couldn’t help but smile.

We talked for another half hour, the conversation meandering from hockey to his favorite restaurants in New York to a ridiculous story about his teammate locking himself out of their bus. By the time we hung up, I felt lighter, like I’d just spent an evening with an old friend.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

A few weeks later, the inevitable topic came up.

Wednesday, August 7, 2024 Today, 10;54AM MATT: You know, it’s kind of wild we’ve never actually met in person. ME: Yeah, well, blame geography. MATT: Or your stubborn refusal to visit New York. ME: My refusal? Pretty sure you’re the one who hasn’t set foot in California. MATT: Fair point. But guess what? ME: What? MATT: I might be able to change that.

I sat up a little straighter, my heart skipping.

ME: Oh? MATT: Ducks game in Anaheim next month. Thinking about extending the trip and finally seeing what all the hype is about. ME: The hype about what? California or me? MATT: Yes.

I laughed, my cheeks warming.

ME: Well, if you do, let me know. MATT: You’ll actually make time for me?

Matt and I continued our nightly texts and FaceTimes, our conversations slipping into an easy rhythm that made it hard to believe we’d never actually met in person. It felt like we’d known each other for years, but there was always this unspoken awareness hovering between us—something deeper, something waiting to shift.

One night, after a particularly exhausting day, I flopped onto my bed and propped my phone against a pillow. I was mid-scroll through Instagram when his FaceTime request came through.

“Hello, stranger,” I said, answering as I smoothed my hair self-consciously.

“Stranger? Don’t act like you haven’t been blowing up my phone all day,” Matt replied, his grin softening the mock accusation.

“Excuse me,” I shot back, raising a brow. “You’re the one who texted me six times about whether it was socially acceptable to eat ice cream for dinner.”

“And you never answered,” he said with a smirk. “I had to make the executive decision myself. Cookies and cream, if you’re wondering.”

“Bold choice.” I laughed, settling more comfortably against my pillows. “You’re such an athlete.”

“Don’t tell my nutritionist,” he quipped, then hesitated, his grin fading just slightly. “So, uh…big news.”

I tilted my head. “Oh? What’s up?”

“After the, uh, game in Anaheim, I have 2 weeks off” he said casually, though I could tell from the way he shifted that it wasn’t as casual as he was trying to make it seem.

“Oh, cool,” I replied, waiting to see where he was going with this.

“Yeah, and…I might stick around a couple of days after.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, check out the area. Grab coffee or something.”

My lips twitched. “Check out the area, huh?”

“Yeah.” His tone was light, but his eyes held a flicker of uncertainty. “I hear San Diego’s nice this time of year.”

“San Diego’s nice every time of year,” I teased.

“Well, then maybe you should show me around. Unless you’re too busy or something,” he added quickly, like he was trying to give me an out.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, pretending to mull it over. “I mean, you’re kind of a big deal. I wouldn’t want to blow your cover.”

He chuckled. “You’re not getting out of this that easily, Y/N. I’m serious. Let’s hang out.”

“Fine,” I relented with an exaggerated sigh. “But you’ll have to wear one of those cliché disguises. You know, baseball hat, oversized sunglasses, maybe a fake mustache.”

“A fake mustache?” he repeated, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying, Manhattan,” I said, smirking, “it’s either that or I’m going to start charging for all the selfies you’ll get asked for.”

“Wow, you’re really looking out for me,” he replied dryly.

“Always,” I said, matching his tone.

There was a brief pause, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “So, it’s a plan then?”

“Guess it is.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Over the next few days, Matt dropped increasingly unsubtle hints about his "extended trip."

Wednesday, August 21, 2024 Today, 1:40PM MATT: What’s the best coffee spot in San Diego? Asking for a friend. ME: For a friend, huh? MATT: Yep. Definitely not for me. ME: Nice try. But you’re going to have to trust me on this one. I’ve got a spot in mind. MATT: Should I be nervous? ME: Absolutely.

The closer we got to the date, the more I caught myself overthinking. He hadn’t called it a date, which was probably for the best. After all, we’d built this incredible friendship, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin it with unrealistic expectations.

But still, the idea of seeing him—of finally meeting him in person—made my heart race in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

The night before the game, he texted me.

Thursday, September 5, 2024 Today, 2:18PM MATT: Game day tomorrow. Nervous? ME: Are you? MATT: Always. But I’ve got good luck on my side. ME: Oh yeah? What’s your secret? MATT: You, obviously.

I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping.

ME: Smooth. MATT: You like it. ME: Maybe. MATT: Just make sure you’re free the day after. No backing out now. ME: Who said I’m backing out? MATT: Just covering my bases.

I smiled to myself, shaking my head.

The next evening, I watched his game from my couch, my nerves hitting harder than I expected. I hadn’t told anyone—not even my best friend—about Matt’s trip, and now it felt like this huge secret I was carrying.

He scored a goal in the second period, and I actually cheered out loud, startling my roommate.

“What’s with you?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Uh, nothing,” I said, my face heating up.

When the game ended in a win, I half-expected him to text me right away, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until almost midnight that my phone buzzed.

MATT: So, you still up? ME: Maybe. MATT: Coffee tomorrow? ME: Sure. MATT: Finally.

The next morning, I arrived at the coffee shop earlier than I needed to, nerves making it impossible to stay still. I checked my reflection in my phone camera for the hundredth time, then pretended to scroll through Instagram to keep my hands busy.

When the door finally opened and I saw Matt walk in, my breath caught. He was taller than I’d imagined, his broad frame filling the doorway, but the easy grin on his face was exactly the same.

“Hey, San Diego,” he said, stopping in front of me.

And for the first time in months, I felt like we were exactly where we were supposed to be. My voice steady despite the way my heart raced. “Hey, Manhattan.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 3 | 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. 4.2k words

back by popular demand <3 ty for all the nice messages

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Wednesday, May 29, 2024 Today, 9:57 PM MANHATTAN: I don’t know how else to convince you. What do you want me to say?

I read the message over and over as I made my way back to the hotel, my friends chatting around me. Their voices blurred into background noise as my thoughts tangled into a confused mess. It didn’t add up—none of it did. The tension between my heart and my head was unbearable.

By the time we got to the hotel, my friend tried to rope me into ordering late-night room service, but I waved her off, mumbling something about needing a shower. She gave me a curious glance but didn’t push.

The shower didn’t help. If anything, it made my thoughts louder, like the steam had cleared space for more doubts to crowd in. Wrapping a towel around myself, I padded over to the bed, plopped down, and grabbed my phone. I stared at Manhattan’s messages for what felt like the fiftieth time, gnawing on my thumbnail until it ached.

I didn’t want to believe him. But at the same time, there was something about his words—his tone, even through text—that kept me hesitating. He didn’t sound like a liar. He sounded genuinely… confused. Frustrated. Desperate, even.

Before I could overthink it any further, I tapped his contact and hit the FaceTime button. My heart pounded as it rang, each chime echoing louder in my ears. What was I even doing?

The screen shifted, and suddenly, he was there. A real, live version of him, staring back at me. His familiar sharp jawline, messy dark hair, and warm brown eyes that I’d seen countless times in photos. He looked tired, his face serious but soft with concern.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice lower than I expected, tinged with a nervous edge.

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.

“Say something,” he urged, his brow furrowing. “Please.”

“You’re…” I finally whispered, shaking my head. “You really look like him.”

“Because I am him,” he said, leaning closer to the camera. “I’m Matt. Everything I’ve told you, every message, it was me. I wasn’t pretending. I wasn’t using anyone else’s photos.”

I blinked, my mind racing. “But why—why wouldn’t you just say that? Why hide it?”

“I didn’t mean to hide it,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “When we first started talking, it wasn’t about… me being Matt Rempe. It was just about us. I liked that you didn’t know who I was. It made everything feel… normal. Real. And then it got harder to tell you as we got closer.”

I sat there, stunned, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. “You should have told me,” I said, my voice trembling. “Do you know how confused I’ve been? How much this feels like some giant joke?”

“I know,” he said, his expression pained. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I just… didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“What we had?” I repeated, my voice rising slightly. “Do you even know how ridiculous this all sounds? You’re saying I’ve been texting you—a professional hockey player—for months and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

“I was scared, okay?” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to mess things up. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. My mind was a storm of disbelief, anger, and a flicker—just a flicker—of something else. Hope? No, that couldn’t be it.

“I don’t know what to believe,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his gaze steady, almost pleading. “Ask me anything. Anything you want to know. I’ll tell you the truth. No more hiding. I promise.”

I swallowed hard, my heart thundering in my chest. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Why should I trust you now?”

“Because,” he said softly, his eyes locking with mine through the screen, “I’ve never lied about how I feel about you.”

I stared at him through the screen, my emotions swirling. His words hung in the air, heavy but sincere. He wasn’t asking for my trust—he was begging for it, his honesty shining through despite everything.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I don’t know how to just… move past it all. It feels so messy now.”

Matt nodded slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. “I get it,” he said softly. “I screwed up by not being honest from the start. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you everything. I don’t want to lose what we have. Even if that means we have to take a step back or… or whatever you need.”

I bit my lip, my mind racing. It wasn’t like I didn’t care about him—clearly, I did. That was part of why this felt so complicated. “I just… need to figure out how to trust you again,” I said quietly. “I want to, but it’s going to take time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said immediately, his tone earnest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A small, tentative smile tugged at my lips. It wasn’t everything, but it was something—a start.

He seemed to relax slightly, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For giving me a chance.”

I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” I said, a little more firmly this time. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

Matt smiled softly, the kind of smile that made it hard not to feel the warmth behind it. Then, as if realizing something mid-thought, he said, “You look really pretty, by the way.”

My cheeks flushed instantly. “What?” I stammered, caught completely off guard.

His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “I—uh—sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he said quickly, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks too. “It just slipped out.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us easing just a little. “You really need to work on your timing,” I teased, shaking my head.

“Yeah,” he said with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not my best move.”

We sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything still present but less overwhelming. Somehow, that small, awkward compliment had cracked through the heaviness, making things feel just a bit more normal.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said finally, my voice soft but steady.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed, his tone hopeful. “And… thanks. For real.”

I ended the call, setting my phone down on the bed beside me. My mind was still a mess, but for the first time in hours, I didn’t feel completely lost. We weren’t fixed, not by a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, we were on the path to figuring it out.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I woke up feeling like my mind had run a marathon overnight. The emotional weight of everything still lingered, but there was a small sense of clarity cutting through the fog. Matt and I had talked, and while it hadn’t solved everything, it had opened the door for us to start moving forward—if I wanted to.

I stared at my phone, the FaceTime app still in my recent calls list. His face was fresh in my mind, the sincerity in his eyes as he told me he hadn’t lied. He’d seemed so genuine, so earnest, that it was hard to hold onto the anger I’d felt the night before. But trust wasn’t built in a single conversation, and I knew that forgiving him wasn’t the same as forgetting what had happened.

I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for the day, meeting my classmates for breakfast in the hotel’s bustling dining area. The chatter of everyone’s plans for the expo helped distract me for a while. My friend nudged me as we filled our plates.

“You seem more like yourself today,” she said, offering me a warm smile.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I think I just needed to sleep on some things.”

She gave me a curious look, clearly wanting to ask more, but she let it go. Instead, she launched into a story about a panel she wanted to attend later, and I let myself get swept up in her excitement, grateful for the reprieve.

Later that afternoon, as I wandered through the bustling expo floor with my classmates, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Matt.

Thursday, May 30, 2024 Today, 1:22 PM MATT: Hope you’re having a good day. No pressure to reply, just wanted to check in.

I stared at the message for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt. He was trying so hard to make things right, to give me space while still showing he cared. After a moment’s hesitation, I typed a quick reply.

ME: Thanks. It’s been a good day so far.

His response came almost instantly.

MATT: Good. You deserve that.

A small smile tugged at my lips, and for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe we could figure this out.

Here’s the continuation of the story from the morning setup:

The rest of the expo flew by in a blur of panels, exhibits, and conversations, but no matter how much I tried to immerse myself in the experience, my thoughts kept drifting back to Matt. The weight of everything between us lingered, a mix of uncertainty and cautious optimism.

By the time evening rolled around, our group gathered in the hotel lobby, buzzing with excitement about our plans to head out one last time before our flight the next morning. My friend looped her arm through mine as we headed toward the subway.

“This trip has been so much fun,” she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“Me neither,” I said, offering her a small smile.

She tilted her head, studying me. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been a little… I don’t know, quieter than usual.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to get into it. “Just tired, I guess.”

She didn’t push, but I could feel her concern as we navigated the crowded subway.

When we returned to the hotel later that evening, everyone scattered to their rooms to pack and get ready for the morning. I unlocked my door, stepping inside and letting out a long breath. The past few days had been such a whirlwind that it felt strange to finally have a moment to myself.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, my phone in hand. My conversation with Matt from earlier lingered in my mind, his words replaying over and over.

MATT: Good. You deserve that.

There was something so simple yet so sincere about it that I couldn’t shake the feeling it gave me.

After a while, I decided to FaceTime him again. I needed to see his face, to talk to him without the filter of a screen full of text.

When the call connected, he answered almost immediately, his expression a mix of surprise and relief.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm but cautious.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we hadn’t said yet. Finally, I broke it.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… everything,” I admitted.

“And?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

“And I think I want to move past it,” I said. “I’m still not sure how to fully wrap my head around everything, but I know I trust you enough to try.”

His shoulders relaxed, and a soft smile crossed his face. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

I nodded, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

We talked for a little while longer, and slowly, the tension between us began to fade. At one point, he paused mid-sentence, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“What?” I asked, tilting my head.

“You look really pretty,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

My cheeks flushed, and I ducked my head, a small laugh escaping me. “Matt…”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. It just kind of slipped out.”

“It’s okay,” I said, smiling despite myself.

The silence stretched for a moment before I stood up, moving to the dresser to start packing my suitcase. I couldn’t afford to leave it until morning—not with the early flight looming.

“Hold on, I need to get some packing done,” I said, propping my phone on the nightstand so I could still see him.

“Packing?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

“For the flight tomorrow,” I said, folding a shirt and placing it neatly in my bag. “This trip really flew by.”

“Oh,” he said softly, the weight in his tone catching my attention.

I glanced at the screen, catching the flicker of emotion in his eyes before he quickly looked away. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt.

“So… tell me about the NHL,” I said, trying to shift the mood. “What’s it like playing at that level? I mean, you’re on one of the biggest stages out there, right?”

He hesitated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s… surreal, I guess. Every game feels like a dream, but there’s a lot of pressure too. People are always watching, analyzing, expecting you to be at your best.”

“I can’t even imagine,” I said, shaking my head as I zipped up one compartment of my suitcase. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a laugh. “But you learn how to focus on the game and tune everything else out. It’s the only way to stay sane.”

I nodded, reaching for another stack of clothes. “It must be tough, though. All that travel, the media, the fans…”

“It can be,” he said, his tone softening. “But it’s worth it. You know, for moments like that win last night—or even the little ones, like seeing a kid in the stands wearing your jersey.”

I smiled at that, imagining what it must be like to have such an impact on people.

As I worked through my packing, I noticed he was unusually quiet. When I glanced back at the screen, his expression was unreadable, his gaze distant.

“Matt?” I prompted gently.

He blinked, snapping back to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how this was my chance to really meet you,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “And I blew it. You were here, in New York, and I didn’t even know until it was too late.”

I paused, the weight of his words settling over me. “It’s not like I made it easy,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I did kind of spring the whole surprise thing on you.”

“Still,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve been talking to you for months, and then you were here, and I—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just wish I’d done things differently.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The sincerity in his voice made my heart ache, but there was no undoing what had already happened.

“You’ll just have to make up for it next time,” I said softly, offering him a small smile.

His eyes met mine through the screen, and for a moment, the sadness faded, replaced by something warmer, something hopeful.

“Next time,” he echoed, his voice steady. “I’ll make sure of it.”

As I finished packing and we said our goodnights, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words lingering in the air. Maybe this trip hadn’t gone as planned, but there was still a chance—however small—to turn it into something meaningful.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I woke up to the soft buzz of my phone alarm. My suitcase sat by the door, neatly packed and ready to go, but my heart felt heavy as I got dressed for the flight home. The trip had been a whirlwind, full of unexpected highs and lows, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about leaving it all behind.

At breakfast, my friend chatted animatedly about the highlights of the trip, her enthusiasm a welcome distraction. I nodded along, adding a comment here and there, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Matt—and the bittersweet regret that we hadn’t met in person.

As the bus pulled up to take us to the airport, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. A part of me thought about ignoring it, not ready to face whatever emotions his message might stir, but curiosity won out.

Thursday, May 30, 2024 Today, 8:30AM MATT: Hope your flight goes smoothly. Let me know when you get home safe, okay?

His words were simple, but they carried an unmistakable warmth that made my chest tighten.

ME: Thanks. I will.

I hit send and stared at the screen, debating whether to say more. Before I could decide, the bus lurched forward, and I slipped my phone back into my bag.

At the airport, the usual chaos of check-ins and security lines kept me distracted. My classmates joked about the trip, already planning to compare notes and photos when we got home.

It wasn’t until we were boarding the plane that I let myself pause. As I settled into my seat, I opened my messages again, scrolling through the thread with Matt. The FaceTime from last night lingered in my mind—the honesty in his voice, the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose me.

Taking a deep breath, I typed a quick message.

ME: I’m sorry we couldn’t meet this time.

I hesitated for a moment, then added:

ME: But I’m glad we talked.

I hit send and slipped my phone into airplane mode, unsure if I was ready to see his reply yet.

The flight home felt longer than usual, each mile bringing me closer to reality and further from the whirlwind that had been New York. By the time we landed, I felt a strange mix of relief and longing.

As soon as I turned my phone back on, his reply popped up:

MATT: Me too. This wasn’t how I wanted it to happen, but I’m glad you gave me a chance to explain.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Maybe things hadn’t gone perfectly, but they weren’t broken beyond repair. And maybe, just maybe, the next time I found myself in New York—or wherever life might take us—we’d finally get the chance to meet face to face.

As the bus rumbled along toward the airport, I let out a sigh, leaning my head against the window. The cityscape zipped by outside, its bustling energy already feeling like a distant memory. I turned slightly, catching snippets of a hushed conversation coming from the row ahead.

“Seriously, he was so hot!” one of my classmates whispered excitedly.

Her seatmate, a guy who sounded more bored than anything, let out a massive yawn. “DM him on Instagram or something, I dunno.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at his nonchalant response, but my curiosity was piqued. Peering discreetly through the small gap between the seats, I caught sight of her phone. She was scrolling through photos from the hockey game, her finger pausing as she zoomed in on a close-up shot of Matt mid-game, his determined expression and jersey number 73 clearly visible.

“I don’t even know his name, idiot,” she muttered, sounding genuinely frustrated.

A chuckle slipped out before I could stop myself. Both of them turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

I met their gazes with a small smile and said “Matthew Rempe.”

The girl blinked in shock, her phone still clutched in her hand. “Wait, you know his name?”

“Yep,” I replied, leaning back in my seat and pretending to focus on the passing buildings again, my grin widening as I felt their stunned stares linger on me for a moment longer.

The city faded further behind us, but a small part of me couldn’t help feeling like it wasn’t quite done with me yet.

The bus continued its steady rumble toward the airport, the familiar hum of the wheels against the pavement a comforting background noise to the awkward silence that had settled around me. I could feel the weight of my classmates’ stares, their curiosity palpable. The girl who had been talking about Matt was still looking at me, trying to process what I’d just said.

“You know him?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more in awe than disbelief.

“Yeah,” I said casually, trying to hide the rush of emotions that were swirling inside me. “He's, uh, kind of a big deal in hockey. I mean, not just in New York, either.”

She looked down at her phone again, scanning the pictures. Her seatmate, who had barely seemed interested before, now leaned forward.

“Wait a minute,” he said, suddenly more engaged. “You’re saying you know the guy in the picture, like for real?”

I raise an eyebrow “What? No, I’m friends with a bunch of the hockey guys. I just know when players are famous. This guy’s like a huge fighter, gets kicked out of games all the time. I just happen to recognise him from the news.”

“What news?” the girl asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“He’s just one of those guys that pops up in highlights a lot, you know? The big hits, the fights—stuff like that gets shared everywhere.” I shrugged, keeping my tone casual.

“Wait,” the guy next to her said, leaning in slightly. “You follow hockey? Like, actually follow it?”

I hesitated, suddenly aware that I’d said too much. “Not really,” I lied, hoping to downplay it. “I’ve just… been around it enough to pick up some things.”

“Been around it how?” the girl asked, still skeptical but clearly intrigued.

“Uh, my cousin’s super into it,” I said quickly, grasping for an explanation that wouldn’t sound suspicious. “He drags me to games and talks about it nonstop, so I end up knowing more than I care to admit.”

The girl nodded slowly, seeming to buy the story. “Huh. That makes sense, I guess. Still, it’s kind of impressive that you recognized him so fast.”

“Yeah,” the guy added, giving me a curious look. “Most people wouldn’t even know who he is, let alone the fact that he’s a fighter.”

I shrugged again, trying to brush it off. “Like I said, highlights. Plus, the hockey world isn’t that big. You hear names and start connecting the dots.”

The two of them exchanged a glance but didn’t push the conversation any further. I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease as their curiosity shifted elsewhere.

Filled with the usual chatter about flights, plans for when we got home, and last-minute souvenirs people wished they’d bought. I stayed mostly quiet, I pulled out my phone, unable to resist texting Matt about the interaction.

ME: So, a girl on this bus thinks you're hot.

His reply came almost immediately.

MATT: Is it you? 😉

I rolled my eyes, biting back a laugh as I typed a response.

ME: No, not me.

A pause, then his next text popped up.

MATT: Oh 😑

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing, earning a few curious looks from my classmates. Covering my mouth, I quickly typed another message.

ME: Don’t look so disappointed. You’ve got plenty of admirers, apparently. MATT: Yeah, but only one that matters.

I stared at the screen, my smile softening. Despite everything, Matt had a way of making me feel like the center of his world, even from miles away.

ME: Smooth, Rempe. MATT: Just honest.

I shook my head, the thought of him sitting wherever he was, probably grinning at his phone too, was enough to make my heart feel lighter.

MATT: I don’t know what’s weirder, you not calling me Manhattan… or the fact that I’m still calling you San Diego.

I snorted, earning a glance from my friend across the aisle, which I quickly waved off.

ME: Well, you are Matt now. Guess I need to adjust. MATT: Adjust? You’re acting like this is a big change. ME: It kind of is! You went from a mystery nickname to being an actual recognisable person. That’s a lot. MATT: Fair. But for the record, you’ll always be San Diego to me. It suits you.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the familiar warmth creep into my chest that his texts always seemed to bring.

ME: What does that even mean? MATT: It means you’re sunny, laid-back, and somehow manage to leave me speechless half the time.

My cheeks burned, and I shook my head at his unabashed flirting.

ME: You’re impossible. MATT: And yet, you’re still texting me. ME: …Point taken. ME: I guess Manhattan suits you too then. Big, flashy, kind of impossible to ignore. MATT: So... do I get to know your real identity yet, Batman?

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[brainddeadd]

Yn's Birthday

It's still just a crush in this - pre-kiss and getting together

It’s a big day for Y/N, the youngest player on the New Jersey Devils and beloved by her teammates, who treat her like a little sister. Today is her birthday, and the guys are going all out. The locker room had been buzzing with secrecy all week as they planned a surprise party to celebrate her. Despite being a fierce competitor on the ice, she always had a special place in their hearts, and they were determined to make this birthday one she’d never forget.

The day starts out as usual—practice and drills, where Nico Hischier and Jack Hughes are more protective than usual, cracking jokes and keeping a close eye on her. Dawson Mercer and Luke Hughes seem unusually upbeat too, exchanging grins and sly winks when she’s not looking. Y/N doesn't suspect a thing, but by the time practice wraps up, she feels like something is up.

After practice, Y/N is asked to join Nico and Jack for a "team meeting," but instead, they lead her to a beautifully decorated room, filled with streamers, balloons, and a massive "Happy Birthday" banner. The team yells, "Surprise!" and Y/N’s face lights up with shock and happiness. Everyone’s there—except for Trevor Zegras, Matthew Knies, and Quinn Hughes, who couldn’t make it to New Jersey.

But just when she thinks they couldn't possibly be involved, her phone buzzes, and it’s a group video call. Trevor’s grinning from ear to ear, sporting a silly birthday hat, Matthew is holding up a cake, and Quinn is casually waving from his apartment.

“Happy birthday, superstar!” Trevor says, his excitement bouncing through the screen. “We wish we could be there, but we couldn’t leave you hanging without saying something.”

“I’ve got a gift coming your way,” Quinn adds with a smile. “Something that might help your shot. Keep an eye out.”

Matthew jumps in next. “And I’ve sent something from Toronto—can’t spoil it, but it’s personalized. Hope you love it!”

Y/N’s heart is full as she thanks them. It means the world that they remembered her day, even from afar.

As she’s soaking in the love, there’s one more surprise in store. The door to the room opens, and to her absolute astonishment, Matt Rempe steps in. Jack smirks, giving a knowing glance to the rest of the team. “Surprise! Thought I’d bring in a special guest,” Jack says with a chuckle. “Hope you don’t mind, Y/N.”

She’s speechless as Matt walks over, towering over everyone. “Happy birthday,” he says softly, offering her a small box. Inside is a delicate necklace, engraved with something meaningful to the both of them.

The gifts from the team are all heartfelt and special. Nico gives her a hand-signed puck with a message in Swiss, something about being unstoppable on the ice. Luke hands over a new pair of skates that he custom-designed. Jack pulls out a scrapbook, filled with photos of the season, funny moments, and little notes from each of the guys. Dawson gets her a personalized Devils jersey, with her nickname on the back.

After the gifts, they dig into cake and pizza, the room filled with laughter and lighthearted teasing. The boys take turns roasting each other, and Y/N gets in a few good jabs herself. It’s a perfect night, full of warmth and family-like love.

Though the trio—Trevor, Matthew, and Quinn—aren’t physically there, their presence is felt in every laugh and every moment, making Y/N’s birthday one she’ll treasure forever.

[brainddeadd]

ok i love matt with her. like everyone’s fighting in the ice and she’s just staying back and shaking her head at all the idiots and matt finished his fight and saw her standing so he anted to go stand with her and one of her teammates immediately thought he was gonna fight her but he would never

Caught in the Crossfire

The tension between the Devils and Rangers hit its boiling point that night. Fists were flying, helmets were off, and chaos erupted on the ice. Yn, stuck in the middle of it all, stayed back, shaking her head at the mess unfolding around her. She had learned early on not to get dragged into every fight—especially when all the boys she called teammates were more than happy to play enforcers for her.

Luke was swinging at anyone wearing blue, Jack was jawing at anyone within earshot, and Nico was tangled with a Ranger near the boards. It was a disaster—but somehow, Yn had found a little space near the neutral zone to just stand there, watching all the chaos unfold like an exhausted parent watching unruly kids.

And then she saw Matt Rempe.

Matt had just finished throwing a few heavy punches in his fight, landing one last hit before the linesmen stepped in to separate him and Kevin Bahl. He took a deep breath, skating off as his opponent was dragged to the box. As Matt wiped his face with his jersey, his gaze found Yn standing off to the side, looking exasperated but untouched.

A small, lopsided grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. Leave it to her to stay out of the madness.

Without a second thought, he started skating toward her, hoping to get in a quick word before the officials noticed. He figured she’d at least give him one of those disapproving but amused looks she always used to send his way—one that somehow felt more like affection than annoyance.

But before Matt could reach her, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye.

Jack Hughes came flying in at full speed, shoving Matt back with a scowl. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack barked, his protective instincts flaring instantly.

Luke was right behind him, grabbing Matt’s arm. “If you think for one second you’re getting near her—”

“Guys, guys!” Yn jumped between them, holding up her hands to block her teammates. “Chill! He’s not here to fight me!”

Jack and Luke exchanged confused glances, both still bristling with suspicion.

Matt threw his hands up in defense, his expression shifting from confusion to amusement. “I’d never fight her. You kidding me?” he said, looking between Jack and Luke like they’d lost their minds.

“Then what are you doing skating over here?” Jack demanded, glaring up at the much taller forward. Nico skated over, hovering a few feet away.

Matt smirked, his gaze landing on Yn. “Just wanted to stand with her. That a crime?”

Yn couldn’t help it—she laughed, the tension in her chest releasing at how ridiculous it all was. “You’re such an idiot,” she muttered, but there was warmth in her voice.

Nico shot her an incredulous look, as if to say, Really? Him?

Jack scowled, still suspicious, but Luke finally eased off with a grumble. “Next time, give us a heads-up or something, man. Jesus.”

Matt just grinned, giving Luke a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll pencil it in.”

Yn shook her head at all of them, biting back a smile. “Boys and their fights,” she muttered under her breath, skating away as the officials blew their whistles and began breaking up the remaining scrums.

As she drifted toward the bench, she heard Matt’s voice from behind her, low enough that only she could hear. “You good?”

She glanced over her shoulder, catching his soft, familiar expression beneath all the chaos. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “I’m good.”

And with that, she skated off, leaving Matt and her overprotective teammates to glare at each other in mutual annoyance—because, as far as they were concerned, no one would ever be good enough to get close to Yn.

But Matt? He wasn’t planning on giving up anytime soon.

~~

After the game, Yn sat in her room, mind still spinning from everything that had happened. She was just starting to unwind when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Trevor Zegras: What the FUCK was that about with Rempe???

She stared at the message, a laugh slipping out despite herself. Of course, Trevor would get wind of it—he had his ear to the ground for any drama, especially if it involved her.

She quickly typed back: Relax, Z. It’s nothing.

A new message appeared almost instantly.

Trevor Zegras: NOTHING??? Jack and Luke looked ready to murder him. Do I need to catch a flight and fight him too or what??

Yn rolled her eyes, shaking her head fondly. You’re as bad as they are, I swear.

As she set her phone down, another message buzzed in.

Trevor Zegras: I'm serious. What’s going on between you two?

Yn smiled to herself, biting her lip.

Not sure yet, Z, she typed back. But I think it’s going to be interesting.

She had barely recovered from Trevor's chaotic texts when her phone buzzed again—another notification lighting up her screen.

Quinn Hughes: What the hell was that with Rempe?

She groaned, rubbing her face with her hands. Of course. First Jack and Luke, now Quinn was on her case too. She loved the Hughes brothers, but man, they knew how to overanalyze everything.

She typed back quickly: Don’t start, Quinn.

Almost immediately, his response came through.

Quinn Hughes: I saw Luke and Jack trying to take his head off. What’d he do to you?

Yn sighed. They always assumed the worst—like Matt had done something terrible or crossed some invisible line. But that wasn’t it. Not at all.

He didn’t do anything, Q. He was just… checking on me, that’s all.

Quinn Hughes: “Checking on you”? Seriously?

She could almost hear the disbelief in his voice, even through the screen. Quinn might have been the most level-headed of the Hughes brothers, but when it came to her, the protective instincts kicked in hard.

Another text buzzed in a second later.

Quinn Hughes: You know he’s not exactly popular with your guys, right?

Yn rolled her eyes. Yeah, I noticed. Thanks for the heads-up.

She paused before sending another message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. And he’s not as bad as you all think. He’s actually… kinda sweet when he’s not punching everyone.

There was a long pause on Quinn’s end, and then—

Quinn Hughes: You sound like Jack when he talks about Zegras. That’s concerning.

Yn snorted at that, shaking her head. Relax. I know what I’m doing.

Quinn's next message came after a beat.

Quinn Hughes: Do you? Because if he screws up, you know we’re all coming for him.

Her heart softened at the reminder that, beneath the teasing and the fights, the Hughes brothers always had her back. Even if they were a bit much sometimes.

Yeah, I know, she replied. Thanks, Quinn.

Just as she set her phone down, another buzz came in from Trevor.

Trevor Zegras: Still thinking about Rempe. Do I need to beat his ass or what??

Yn groaned, flopping back onto the pillows with a laugh.

Between Trevor and the Hughes brothers, Matt Rempe didn’t stand a chance. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest.

Whatever this thing with Matt was—it wasn’t going to be boring.

[brainddeadd]

https://www.tumblr.com/brainddeadd/765134623052349440/for-young-player-x-ndj-devils-in-her-corner-are

waittttttt her with matt is so good.

maybe matt and her have crossed paths before she was a devil and now she’s a devil and he’s playing with the rangers and he seems to be fighting all of her teammates and she ain’t sure what to feel as she remembered meeting him and he was so sweet and now everyone in the team is hating him

ok look.. i love the idea of her with matt.. so much. i thought i wanted her with trev, but something about rivals to lovers tugs at my heart

Rivalries and Mixed Feelings

Being the youngest player—and the only woman—on the New Jersey Devils came with its challenges, but it also came with a massive bonus: the team had her back no matter what. Jack Hughes, Nico Hischier, Luke Hughes, and the rest of the guys treated her like their little sister. They chirped her relentlessly, sure, but they also protected her fiercely, both on and off the ice.

However, things got complicated when Matt Rempe entered the picture.

Yn had met Matt before she joined the Devils—back when she was still finding her place in pro hockey. Back then, he had been sweet, easygoing, and quick with a laugh. She remembered thinking how rare it was to meet someone in the league who was so kind. But now, things were different.

Matt was with the Rangers. And not just with the Rangers—he seemed hell-bent on making Yn’s teammates hate him.

The first time it happened, Matt dropped the gloves with Jonas Siegenthaler in a close game at MSG. She hadn’t thought much of it—fights happened all the time. But then, in the next game, Matt had tangled with Kevin Bahl, and by the third time they faced the Rangers, he was jawing at Jack and Nico on nearly every shift.

Yn stood on the bench, chewing her mouthguard anxiously as Matt chirped Nico during a faceoff. “Dude, what’s your problem with my team?” she muttered under her breath.

Jack leaned over beside her, his jaw tight. “Rempe’s a giant pain in the ass, that’s the problem.”

Luke shot her a look too. “If he comes near you, we’re jumping him.”

She rolled her eyes, but the truth was, the tension gnawed at her. Matt wasn’t just fighting the Devils—he was fighting her people. The guys who had welcomed her, supported her, and treated her like family. And it felt… weird. Like betrayal, almost.

The final straw came late in the third period of their latest matchup. Yn was trying to get open in front of the net when she felt someone behind her. She turned—and there was Matt, towering over her.

“Rempe,” she muttered, catching her breath.

“Hey, Yn,” he said, his voice low. For a second, there was that familiar softness in his eyes—the one she remembered from before. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“You good?” he asked, as if they were catching up at a coffee shop instead of standing in the middle of a heated rivalry game.

Before she could respond, Nico skated in, shoving Matt away with a glare. “Back off, Rempe.”

Jack followed right behind, practically growling. “Go bother someone else, man.”

Matt raised his hands as if in surrender, smirking slightly, but Yn saw the flash of frustration in his eyes. As he skated off, Luke leaned down next to her, muttering, “He’s lucky we didn’t deck him.”

After the game, Yn sat in the locker room, her mind spinning.

Why was Matt acting like this? Why was he picking fights with her team when she knew—deep down—that he wasn’t a bad guy?

Jack plopped down beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Forget about him,” he said. “Rempe’s just another Ranger. No point wasting your energy.”

But it wasn’t that simple. She couldn’t just switch off the part of her that remembered Matt’s kindness, even if he was doing everything possible to become public enemy number one.

Later that night, as she scrolled through her phone, a text popped up.

Matt Rempe: Hey. You okay?

She stared at the screen, conflicted.

After a moment, she typed back: Why are you fighting everyone on my team?

His response came quickly. It's just hockey, Yn. Doesn’t mean I don’t care.

Her heart twisted at the words. She knew she should hate him—he was the enemy now, after all. But somehow, she just couldn’t bring herself to.

And that? That was going to make things complicated.

[brainddeadd]

Interview With A Vampire

Joseph Woll x Yn Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x sister!reader, Lando Norris x platonic!reader, Charles Leclerc x platonic!reader, Yuki Tsunoda x platonic!reader, Jamie Flatters x platonic!reader, Matt Rempe x platonic!reader, other f1 grid members x platonic!reader Lewis Hamilton x sister!reader, Lando Norris x platonic!reader, Charles Leclerc x platonic!reader, Yuki Tsunoda x platonic!reader, Jamie Flatters x platonic!reader, Matt Rempe x platonic!reader, Jack Champion x platonic!reader, other f1 grid members x platonic!reader

series masterlist

ynhamilton: honoured to have been apart of this, thank you

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and others

lewishamilton: killed it

landonoriss: binging it as we speak

charles_leclerc: amazing!

mattrempe: love it

josephwoll: watched with matthewknies like 10/10

liked by mattrempe, matthewknies, and others

[brainddeadd]

Promise Masterlist

Joseph Woll x Yn Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x sister!reader, Lando Norris x platonic!reader, Charles Leclerc x platonic!reader, Yuki Tsunoda x platonic!reader, Jamie Flatters x platonic!reader, Matt Rempe x platonic!reader, Jack Champion x platonic!reader, other f1 grid members x platonic!reader

Yn Hamilton, the younger sister of world champion Lewis Hamilton, has recently skyrocketed to fame after her role in Avatar: The Way of Water. Now a rising star in Hollywood, she’s trying to navigate her newfound fame while staying grounded. One night, she decides to take a break from the chaos and support her best friend, Matt Rempe, at his hockey game.

At the game, Yn unexpectedly crosses paths with Joseph Woll, a talented goaltender for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Though she’s no stranger to high-profile figures thanks to her brother, something about Joseph immediately catches her attention. The two exchange a few words, but the chemistry between them is undeniable. Despite coming from two different worlds—Hollywood and professional sports—they find themselves drawn to each other.

As the sparks fly, Yn must juggle her rising career, her protective brother's concerns, and the unexpected connection with a Maple Leafs goalie. Will their lives pull them apart, or will they find a way to make things work despite the pressures of fame and the unpredictable nature of their careers?

Meet the characters

2020

2021

2022

Interview With The Vampire (smau)

Avatar: The Way of Water (smau)

Lego and movies (smau)

2023

Birthday girl (smau)

2024

Fan posts (smau)