But We Dont - Matt Rempe
For my Matt Girls!!! Never posted my writing or anything but thought WHY TF NOT. So fuck it. Here you go sexy ;)
Word Count: 3380
Y/N and Matt. Its causal between them. A situationship I guess. But Matt asks the question—Is there something between us?
Warnings: Angst. Making out. Mention of sex and hooking up. Matt being SEXY. Reader being confusing (girl get ur act together) I think thats it???
Kinda editied
“What were you up to last night,” Y/N asked as she finished placing the last of her groceries into the fridge. Matt sat on her sofa like it was his sofa. Back slouched and long legs propped on the coffee table. Finger swiping up on his phone.
“Just went out with some of the guys.”
She nodded disappointingly. He didn't want to hang out with her on Valentines afterall. She couldn't be upset though. She was the one who said she didn't want a relationship. A relationship with Matt specifically. “Oh. On Valentines?”
His eyes squint under the bright white light of his phone screen before he places it face down next to him on the sofa and looks over to the kitchen.
“Yeah?” he questions, eyes watching Y/N as she crosses her arms over her chest. Something she does when she's trying to not seem upset. Like her own shield. “I didn't think you’d want to do anything after your long shift.”
“I didn't work last night.”
“You didn't tell me.”
Y/N shrugs, feigning indifference. “Didn’t think I needed to.”
Matt watches her for a second too long, like he’s debating what to say. “You usually tell me what nights you work.”
“So?” she challenges, hating that her voice wavers. “Not like you needed to know. You had plans, right?”
Matt leans back, studying her. “Would you have wanted to do something?”
She scoffs. “Of course not”
A moment passes. “I wasn’t doing anything last night,” she admits, quieter.
His smile fades just a little. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a second, neither of them says anything. Then Matt picks up his phone and unlocks it. “I mean, I could take you out now. There’s gotta be some half-off Valentine’s Day chocolate left at CVS. Pick up some pizza?”
Y/N rolled her eyes. A smile formed despite the jealousy looming through her. It wasn't that he was with his friends last night or that he didn't ask her to do something on Valentines Day.
Though that did sting a little.
It was because he was out at the bars on Valentines where only singles looking to forget their lying cheating ex or to score lucky. Either way the night would end with strangers in one of their overly priced New york apartments.
Matt watched her, phone still in his hand but attention fully on her now. His gaze lingered, like he was waiting for her to say something else. Call him out. Ask him the question she was biting back.
She wouldn’t.
“I mean,” he continued, voice lighter now, like he was testing the waters, “If you wanted to go out so bad, you could’ve just said something. You know I would’ve taken you somewhere.”
“I didn't want to go anywhere,” she added, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to occupy her hands, despite the freshly poured water glass on the counter already.
Matt let out a short laugh, and she heard the creak of the couch as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Right.”
That one word made her freeze for half a second. It was the kind of right that meant he knew she was full of shit. The kind that sat between them like an open secret neither of them wanted to admit.
She turned, glass in hand, and shot him a look. “What?”
He smirked, slow and knowing. “Nothing.”
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
Her fingers tightened around the glass. “Like—fuck, I don’t know. Just don’t.”
Matt’s smirk widened like he’d just won something. “Touchy.” He leaned back against the couch, arms stretching over the backrest, making himself comfortable—too comfortable, like he belonged there. Like this was his place, not hers. “It’s cute, though.”
Y/N scoffed, filling the glass under the tap. “Nothing about this is cute.”
Matt hummed like he disagreed, his gaze dragging over her slowly before settling back on her face. “You sure? Because, I don’t know, you getting all worked up about where I was last night feels kinda…” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Like a girlfriend thing.”
Y/N’s head snapped toward him. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
He grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He tapped his fingers on the couch cushion beside him. “But you sound like one.”
She wanted to move on from this conversation. Matt was already seeing her as some jealous freak when she had no reason to be jealous.
She should let it go. Change the subject. Pretend it didn’t matter.
But the image of him at some shitty bar, surrounded by girls looking for something, still clung to her like cigarette smoke.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she walked over and plopped down next to him on the couch, turning her body toward him. Her water glass was forgotten in the kitchen. “You really expect me to believe you just hung out with the guys?”
Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden shift. He tilted toward her, closing the small space between them. “I don’t expect you to believe anything, sweetheart. You already made up your mind.”
God, she hated when he called her that. Hated even more that it made her stomach flip.
She rolled her eyes. “You were at a bar on Valentine’s Day, Matt.”
“So?”
“So…” she hesitated, trying to find a way to phrase it without sounding as jealous as she felt. “You weren’t exactly playing poker in someone’s basement. The only reason to be at a bar on that night is—”
“—to get laid?” Matt finished for her, lips twitching upward.
Y/N swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were sitting. On the way his arm still stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing her shoulder.
Matt clicked his tongue, leaning in just enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You really think I’d do that?”
“I don’t know.” The words came out quieter than she meant them to.
Matt exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “That’s cute,” he murmured. “If I was looking to get laid, I wouldn’t have been at some bar.”
Y/N swallowed, pulse kicking up.
He smirked, eyes dragging over her face, slow and deliberate. “I would’ve just showed up here.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
And Matt must have noticed, because his grin turned downright dangerous. “You know,” he mused, fingers brushing against her shoulder now, light and deliberate. “If you wanted me to spend the night with you, all you had to do was ask.”
Y/N clenched her jaw, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. “That’s not what this is about.”
“No?” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to her lips. “Then what is it about?”
Y/N stared at him, pulse drumming in her ears.
Say it. Say it, and this whole thing changes.
he pulled back first, standing abruptly. “I’m taking you up on that pizza.”
Matt let out a low chuckle, watching her. Not pushing. Not calling her out. He knew she didn't want to be with him like that. Anything more than what they were right now. At least that's what she told him and with each day he believed it a little less.
He stood up, stretching lazily before grabbing his keys. “Cool,” he said, voice light again. “But just so you know—” He leaned in one last time, voice dropping to something just above a whisper. “You are cute when you’re jealous.”
And before she could try and shove his 6’7, pure musclar body. He was already heading for the door, grinning.
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After the Rangers game and the boys taking home the win Y/n was getting into Matt’s SUV back to his apartment.
Matt threw his hockey bag in the closet as they entered his apartment and flicked on the lights as he vanished down the hall to his room to change out of his tailored suit that made Y/N mind go crazy.
Y/n sank down into the black sofa and turned on the tv, scrolling through netflix to find something for the two of them to watch.
When he returned his hair was still damp from his post game shower. His black hoodie was loose around his shoulders, and his sweats hung low on his hips. He looked comfortable—too comfortable, like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours throwing himself into other people for sport.
What are we watching?” he asked, dropping onto the couch beside her, way closer than necessary. His thigh brushed against hers, the heat from his skin seeping through her tight denim.
“Dunno,” she muttered, still flipping through options. “Nothing good.”
Matt hummed, peering over her shoulder. “I say we put on something terrible, then. More fun to make fun of.”
“Like what?”
“Some shitty rom-com where the guy messes up, but the girl takes him back anyway.” He smirked, tapping a finger against her knee. “You seem like the type to eat that shit up.”
Y/N shot him a look. “Are you saying I have bad taste?”
“I’m saying you like a good redemption arc.” His voice was teasing, but something flickered in his expression—something unreadable. “Just look at me.”
She rolled her eyes and clicked on the first movie that looked decent, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at his words. Matt shifted, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her. His fingers barely grazed the back of her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his touch even through the fabric of her sweatshirt.
They settled into the movie, but Y/N could barely focus. Matt was too close, and he was making no effort to keep his hands to himself. Y/N tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the screen, but then he shifted again—this time turning his head toward her, his lips just inches from her temple. “You smell good.”
She exhaled sharply. “Matt.”
“What?” He grinned, eyes dark with amusement. “Can’t give you a compliment?”
His knuckles brushed against her thigh.
Matt grinned, tilting his head slightly. “You always get this quiet when we’re sitting this close?”
Y/N scoffed. “No.”
He hummed again, fingers lightly trailing up the back of her arm. “You sure?”
She swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how little space there was between them. “Positive.”
Matt leaned in, his nose barely brushing against her temple. “Then why do you look nervous?”
“I’m not—” Her breath hitched as he shifted again, his arm pressing more firmly against her back.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because we’ve done this plenty of times before.”
Y/N barely had time to process his words before his hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face toward him. His lips were on hers a second later—slow at first, testing, teasing, before he deepened the kiss.
It wasn't new but it burned through her each time like it was.
Matt’s hands found her waist, pulling her onto his lap without hesitation. Y/N let out a quiet gasp against his lips, her hands bracing against his shoulders. His fingers curled into her sweatshirt, bunching the fabric slightly as his grip tightened.
“Been waiting for you to do that all night,” Matt murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough.
Y/N let out a breathy laugh, fingers sliding into his damp hair. “You could’ve done it sooner.”
Matt smirked, his hands tracing slow, deliberate circles over her hips. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”
His lips brushed against hers again, lingering, before trailing down her jaw, then lower, grazing against the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. A slow, satisfied hum vibrated from his chest when she exhaled a little too sharply.
Y/N’s hands gripped the front of his hoodie, tugging him back up to face her. “You’re in a mood tonight,” she muttered, amusement laced in her voice.
Matt leaned back against the couch, pulling her closer, forcing her to settle against him. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “Big win tonight. Feeling good.”
“Mm,” she mused, fingertips tracing absentmindedly along the side of his neck. “So you just want a victory hookup?”
He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Nah, I just want you.”
Y/N felt her stomach flip—an involuntary, stupid reaction she immediately pushed down. This wasn’t anything new. This wasn’t different.
But the way Matt was looking at her…
She ignored the thought, pulling him into another kiss before she could think about it too much.
His hands roamed her back, dragging slow and deliberate, fingers teasing under the hem of her sweatshirt. The movie played on, long forgotten, the distant sound of some rom-com couple arguing barely registering as Matt kissed her deeper, pressing her against him like he wasn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon.
Her hands slid under his hoodie, palms grazing over the hard ridges of his stomach, still warm from his post-game shower. Matt let out a quiet groan against her lips, one of his hands tangling in her hair as he tilted her head to kiss her harder.
Y/N barely noticed when he shifted, pressing her back against the couch cushions, hovering over her now. Matt’s fingers traced slow patterns along her back. His other hand lifted, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, pressing down just slightly.
Y/N’s breath hitched. Her lips parted instinctively, and Matt’s gaze flickered down, eyes dark. Hungry.
“You’re staring,” she muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but the way her voice wavered completely betrayed her.
Matt smirked. “Yeah?”
With that Y/n leaded back in. The moment her lips met his again, Matt groaned softly, his grip tightening at her waist like he needed her closer. His fingers stayed under her sweatshirt, tracing over the bare skin of her lower back, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to take his time, like he was enjoying the way she melted into him.
Y/N’s hands slid into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and Matt’s response was immediate. His body pressing into hers in a way that made it impossible to ignore just how much he wanted this.
She gasped against his lips, and Matt chuckled, low and satisfied. “You always get this needy when I touch you?”
Y/N scowled, shoving at his chest—not enough to push him off, just enough to prove a point. “You always talk this much when we’re making out?”
His lips moved to her jaw, down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. She could feel him smirking against her when she tipped her head back slightly, giving him more access.
Y/N exhaled sharply, nails digging into his shoulders. The warmth of his hands, the weight of him against her—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.
“Matt.” Her voice came out breathless, almost desperate, and when she met his gaze again, the cocky glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
He raised a brow, fingers tracing down her side, slow and teasing. “Yeah?”
“Take me to your room.”
Then, in one fluid motion, he scooped her up from the couch, making her squeal as he carried her down the hall, his lips already on hers before they even reached the door.
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Come over. I’ll make dinner.
When she gets to his place, Matt’s already in the kitchen, moving around like he actually knows what he’s doing. There’s a pan sizzling on the stove, the scent of garlic and butter filling the air.
She leans against the counter, watching him. “Since when do you cook?”
He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “I can make, like, three things. You’re getting one of them.”
They eat at the small kitchen table. Like friends. It's normal. Its always been easy for Matt and Y/n.
After, They curl up on the couch, a blanket draped over them, his arm resting around her shoulders. The movie is something they’ve both seen a hundred times, but neither of them is really watching. They've never made it through a movie without getting tangled up in one another.
His fingers trace lazy circles on her shoulder, absentminded, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
She does.
Her head rests against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and slow. She could fall asleep like this.
“Can I ask you something?” he says breaking the sound in the room.
Y/n shifts away from his chest, sitting up to be at eye height with him.
His hand slides from her shoulder, falling to her waist, his fingers dragging against the fabric of her shirt.
The air between them stretches, thick and weighted.
Neither of them speak.
They just look at each other.
His gaze flickers between her eyes and her lips, something hesitant, something aching.
Her fingers twitch against the couch, resisting the urge to reach for him. To pull him back in. To press her mouth against his.
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn't tease. Just watches her, the weight of his hand still resting against her hip. “Is there something between us?”
Her eyes grow. “What do you mean Matt?” Asking like she didn't know what he meant. Y/N didn't need more clarification.
Matt exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening. “You know what I mean.”
His fingers press slightly into her waist, grounding himself, waiting. His eyes search hers, looking for something—anything—that tells him he’s not crazy for feeling the way he does.
She can feel her pulse in her throat, in her wrists, in every place he’s touching her.
But she doesn’t answer.
Matt’s hand twitches against her hip, his patience thinning. “Y/N/N.” His voice is softer this time, but no less certain. “Just tell me the truth.”
The truth.
She knows it. She feels it.
But the weight of admitting it—of owning it—lodges in her chest, heavy and suffocating.
So she lies.
“There’s nothing.”
His expression flickers, something breaking just beneath the surface.
His hand slips from her waist, resting on his lap as he nods slowly. Like he’s letting the words settle, like he’s accepting them.
Like he’s letting her go.
Y/N swallows against the tightness in her throat. “Matt, I—”
But he doesn’t let her finish. Instead, he leans in, capturing her mouth in his.
It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s desperate, almost punishing, his hands finding her waist again, gripping harder this time.
She lets herself fall into it. Forgets the words that just left her mouth. Forgets why she said them at all. Because she didn't mean them. Not even deep down. She knew she was lying to Matt. Lying to herself.
His hands slide up her sides, his lips moving against hers with a kind of urgency she’s never felt from him before.
She should stop.
She should fix this.
But she doesn’t. Because this is easier.
It’s easier to let him kiss her like this, to let him touch her, to let him pull her back into the only version of them that’s ever made sense. It’s easier than telling the truth.
But then—Matt pulls away.
Y/N blinks, dazed, breathing uneven. “What—”
His hands drop from her waist, running through his hair. He exhales sharply, his chest rising and falling.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Her stomach twists. “Matt—”
He shakes his head. “I mean it, Y/N/N. I can’t.”
She stares at him, waiting for him to take it back. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he stands, running a hand down his face before nodding toward the door. “You should go.”
It’s a command, but his voice is quiet. Worn.
Y/N swallows, waiting for him to stop her, to say anything that would make this feel less final. But he doesn’t.
So she grabs her bag, moving toward the door, fingers trembling as she wraps them around the handle.
She hesitates. Turning back, just once.
Matt is still sitting there, eyes drilling holes into his hands as they stay in his lap. He doesn't stop her. He doesn't take back what he said. She doesn't tell him how she really feels. That there is something between them. That she loves him. But she doesn't.
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Thanks for Reading!!!!!
