sorrowsofsilence

[sorrowsofsilence]

Sylvia Plath, aged 25, from "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" (dated March 8, 1958)

[sorrowsofsilence]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

[sorrowsofsilence]

muah muah muah muah muah 🥹🖤

biscuit • n.s || epilogue

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 1.8k || read time: ~8 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, fluffyyy, long distance, explicit language, Noah being suggestive through a facetime and showing some…things

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: I didn't wanna keep anyone waiting, so I cranked this out this evening. (I've been on my computer for over a day straight RIP to my eyeballs.) I also wanted to wrap up this series since I'm getting busier with my job, and won't have time to write... but also, now that it's done...I don't wanna let them go lmao. I love hockey Noah way too much bro, pls help.

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

Three months apart, and it still felt wrong.

The bus rides were too loud, the hotel rooms too quiet. The only thing that made it even a bit bearable was this: your face lighting up his phone.

"God," he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair as his smile tugged wide, "you have no idea how much better this makes my day."

You asked about practice, and he bitched about the drills, how Matt almost puked, and it all felt normal, as though you were in the room. But then the quiet came, and he couldn't stop staring at you on the screen, admiring the way your smile curved, already half-asleep.

"Hey," he said before he could second-guess himself, leaning closer until his phone camera picked up the shadow under his jaw. "Can I ask you something?"

You hummed, telling him he just did, and he scoffed, tongue running over his teeth. Smartass answer, as always. He rolled his eyes, but his pulse thudded hard. His teeth caught his lip as he sucked in a nervous breath, eyes darting to his side while his fingers picked at the sheet.

"I know we've been us for a while now...But I don't wanna go another day without you knowing it for real." He exhaled with a shaky sound. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

When you teased him first, he thought his heart was gonna choke him. He begged you not to bug him, and relief only came when you said yes. And then it all came spilling out, the words he had been carrying for weeks, months even.

"I love you."

He watched your eyes light up from his screen, and hearing you say it back without any hesitation made his heart race. He had to swallow twice and force air into his lungs because Jesus Christ, no win on the ice could compare to that.

Still, he couldn't let it stay that soft. That wasn't him; he loved getting a ruse out of you. So his grin tilted, the ache in his chest pushing out as a smirk.

"I wish I could be there in person to tell you," he shifted, leaning on his side and proping his face up with his palm. "But hey... when I say it in person, I'll make sure you're on your back so I can keep saying it until you scream it."

The way your cheeks flushed on his screen, and the way you buried your face in the blanket, he lived for that.

"What?" he teased, cheeky smile lines cutting deep. "You love me. You're stuck with this mouth."

The interruption came right on cue, Brady, bleary-eyed and grumpy in the doorway, muttering about it being past your bedtime, even though he was visiting your apartment because your parents were out of town. Noah laughed so hard he almost dropped the phone, praying your brother hadn't heard the filth that left his mouth.

When the door finally shut, he caught you again, cheeks warm, eyes rolling but shining. He softened then, because he couldn't help it...because it was you.

"You should get to bed, beautiful," he murmured, gaze steady through the phone. "Dream of me. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

And after saying 'I love you' again, the call ended, and the silence took over the room again.

Noah stared at his reflection in the black screen, thumb brushing over where your face had just been a moment ago. His chest ached, stomach sinking through the loneliness.

He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside him and collapsed backward, dragging a hand through his hair again. The room sheets smelled like cheap detergent, nothing like you, and it pissed him off. He had gotten used to your perfume clinging to his hoodies, the smell of the shampoo brand you used, but in his hair, because he bought the same one but left it at home.

Now, all he had was a cold hotel bed and a head buzzing with every second of your smile.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone again, half-tempted to call back just to hear your voice one more time. Pathetic, he thought, and then chuckled at himself. You would probably tease him for it, but you would love it too.

"Fuck I love her." He muttered into the dark, staring at the wall for a moment, envisioning you pinned there. His eyes slipped shut, and for the first time on the road, he slept easily, because in his dreams, you were right there with him.

+

The weeks that followed blurred together: practice, buses, away games, but he was glad that the calls never changed. Every night, if he didn't see you on his screen, he felt like he couldn't breathe right.

He was always glued to his phone, and this night was no different.

The bus was loud as hell, music thumping low through the crappy speakers. Matt was arguing about shotgun rules even though nobody was driving, and Jolly tossed a bag of candy at Ruffilo's head just because.

Noah leaned back against the window, tugging his hood over his head as the screen lit up with your name. His pulse immediately tripped, and when he swiped, leaving your face to fill his phone, all the noise dulled.

"Hey, my beautiful girlfriend."

He loved calling you his, and it was something that made you blush every time he did it.

Of course, he didn't get two seconds before Folio was practically climbing into his lap, shouting at the camera. "Y/N, We love you! Come rescue us from him!"

"Move, man," Noah barked, shoving him off. The phone shook as Jolly leaned in next, flexing his bicep like an idiot.

"Check it, sis. All natural."

Matt leaned over the seat, flipped the camera off, and grinned like an asshole. Ruffilo waved both hands dramatically, yelling, "Panther sisterrrr!" while the rest of the boys screamed.

Noah slapped a hand over the lens. "Ignore them. I'm surrounded by children."

When he angled the camera back on himself, his lips curled. He pulled it closer to his face, ensuring that all you would be able to see was his nose. "See? Just me. Don't even worry about the zoo behind me."

You were laughing on the other end, that soft crackle of your voice through his AirPods making his chest tighten. Man, he missed you.

Then he pulled the phone away and glanced down the aisle, lips twitching. "Hold up."

He slipped past the chaos and ducked into his bunk. The curtain scraped shut, barely muffling the noise, but the glow from his phone lit only him now. The quiet was a relief, even if it wasn't silence.

He never got used to how easy it was to fall for you all over again, just by looking at his screen. His hair fell into his face, jaw tight from the grin he couldn't fight, eyes soft like he had just been caught staring for too long. All of it was for you.

Then his smile tugged sharply, teeth catching his lip before he sucked at them like he was holding something back. Fuck it. "By the way... thanks for those pics earlier. You're fucking hot."

Your blush hit him instantly, and Jesus, even in pixelated form, it floored him. His chest thumped, pulse wild, and the little tilt of your voice through his ears made his throat tighten. He could see the heat in your cheeks, groaning at the way you shifted in your blankets, trying to hide.

He chuckled with sin. "What? You thought I wouldn't look at them the second I got them?"

And then, before he could stop himself, he flipped the camera. His palm was already pressed over the thick line straining against his shorts, thumb dragging across the outline. The hiss that slipped out was quick, pulled deep from his chest.

"See what you do to me?" His whisper was low, careful not to be heard. He curled his fingers tighter, flexing his grip until it bordered on obscene, his body reacting just to your face on the other side of the glass. "Might not even make it to the next city if you keep this shit up."

He flipped the camera back, catching the way your lips parted and brows furrowed in frustration, like you couldn't decide whether to scold him or melt.

"Looks like I owe you once again," he muttered, smirk growing crooked even as his chest thundered.

He meant it to land cocky, but the truth sat heavy behind it, because every time he thought he had the upper hand, pushing and teasing and controlling the game, you wrecked him instead. And it was something he couldn't, wouldn't, stop chasing.

Noah leaned back into the thin mattress, dragging a hand down his chest while the screen glowed in the dark. He couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop wanting, and he loved every fucking second of it; you.

His mouth tilted wider, "Guess I'll just have to spend the rest of our life evening it out, huh?"

You laughed, muttering something about him being impossible, but then you told him you loved him.

He immediately relished those three words, refusing to fight the way his body lit up with warmth. They sank into his chest, threaded through every heartbeat, stronger than any roar of a crowd or slam of a goal horn.

He couldn't cover it with a tease or another joke, no matter how hard  he was. He just let himself sit in it and glow in the weight of knowing you loved him back.

"God, say it again," he rasped, half-laughing at himself as he dragged a hand down his face. "I don't care if I sound pathetic...I just, fuck, I needed that."

Silence stretched for a beat, but then you whispered it again, softer this time. The words wrapped around him like a blanket, and he swore he'd never get used to it. His chest ached in the best way, and he let his eyes slip shut, your voice echoing in his head like a prayer.

The pain of distance was always heavy, but no longer unbearable. Because now he had a countdown, something solid to hold onto. Just a few more weeks, and a handful of games, until he could have you in his arms again.

He couldn't wait to take you out to dinner, to kiss you like you'd stolen every breath from his lungs, to finally hand you the jersey he had stitched with his name across the back; the one he secretly hoped you would wear until it was soft and frayed, claimed as yours, as much as it was his.

But more than that, he ached for the small things. Things like buying you coffee instead of texting you good morning, waking up in the middle of the night with your hair in his face instead of an empty pillow, arguing about cereal brands in a grocery store aisle, and stealing your chapstick just to watch you pout.

He wanted normal boyfriend things; a lifetime of them.

And, if he were lucky, maybe you would wear nothing but that jersey the first night he got you back. 

tags: (Join/leave my taglist here)

@cookiesupplier @foliosgirl @xserenax-13 @dsireland86 @calleyx13

@xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @rumoured-whispers @99png @deathblacksmoke

@anameunmusical @sitkowski @darksigns-exe @ladyveronikawrites @ferduttini

@bluehairpunklol @kkaitxnichole @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lilgarbitch

@ami-gami @animal4princess-blog @kenjipepsi1 @sarahissilent @geminigirlfromfinland

@jesuisunchaton @lonelydragonlady @lacy1986 @xmads-omensx @bloody-spades

@carrieontillmay @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @renegadebirch @lyschko666 @popularpopularmonster

@dragoncopper @flowery-mess @heyyoplayer @spacec0wgirl777 @lukeevangelista

@reidsblessing @fellghost @sallyba3 @curse-bearing-hips @super-btstrash-posts

@c0ncr3t3-g1rl @traffordonna @dominuslunae @swissy23 @megthegoon

[sorrowsofsilence]

Thank you for all your support 🥹🖤🖤🖤

biscuit • n.s || epilogue

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 1.8k || read time: ~8 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, fluffyyy, long distance, explicit language, Noah being suggestive through a facetime and showing some…things

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: I didn't wanna keep anyone waiting, so I cranked this out this evening. (I've been on my computer for over a day straight RIP to my eyeballs.) I also wanted to wrap up this series since I'm getting busier with my job, and won't have time to write... but also, now that it's done...I don't wanna let them go lmao. I love hockey Noah way too much bro, pls help.

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

Three months apart, and it still felt wrong.

The bus rides were too loud, the hotel rooms too quiet. The only thing that made it even a bit bearable was this: your face lighting up his phone.

"God," he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair as his smile tugged wide, "you have no idea how much better this makes my day."

You asked about practice, and he bitched about the drills, how Matt almost puked, and it all felt normal, as though you were in the room. But then the quiet came, and he couldn't stop staring at you on the screen, admiring the way your smile curved, already half-asleep.

"Hey," he said before he could second-guess himself, leaning closer until his phone camera picked up the shadow under his jaw. "Can I ask you something?"

You hummed, telling him he just did, and he scoffed, tongue running over his teeth. Smartass answer, as always. He rolled his eyes, but his pulse thudded hard. His teeth caught his lip as he sucked in a nervous breath, eyes darting to his side while his fingers picked at the sheet.

"I know we've been us for a while now...But I don't wanna go another day without you knowing it for real." He exhaled with a shaky sound. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

When you teased him first, he thought his heart was gonna choke him. He begged you not to bug him, and relief only came when you said yes. And then it all came spilling out, the words he had been carrying for weeks, months even.

"I love you."

He watched your eyes light up from his screen, and hearing you say it back without any hesitation made his heart race. He had to swallow twice and force air into his lungs because Jesus Christ, no win on the ice could compare to that.

Still, he couldn't let it stay that soft. That wasn't him; he loved getting a ruse out of you. So his grin tilted, the ache in his chest pushing out as a smirk.

"I wish I could be there in person to tell you," he shifted, leaning on his side and proping his face up with his palm. "But hey... when I say it in person, I'll make sure you're on your back so I can keep saying it until you scream it."

The way your cheeks flushed on his screen, and the way you buried your face in the blanket, he lived for that.

"What?" he teased, cheeky smile lines cutting deep. "You love me. You're stuck with this mouth."

The interruption came right on cue, Brady, bleary-eyed and grumpy in the doorway, muttering about it being past your bedtime, even though he was visiting your apartment because your parents were out of town. Noah laughed so hard he almost dropped the phone, praying your brother hadn't heard the filth that left his mouth.

When the door finally shut, he caught you again, cheeks warm, eyes rolling but shining. He softened then, because he couldn't help it...because it was you.

"You should get to bed, beautiful," he murmured, gaze steady through the phone. "Dream of me. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

And after saying 'I love you' again, the call ended, and the silence took over the room again.

Noah stared at his reflection in the black screen, thumb brushing over where your face had just been a moment ago. His chest ached, stomach sinking through the loneliness.

He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside him and collapsed backward, dragging a hand through his hair again. The room sheets smelled like cheap detergent, nothing like you, and it pissed him off. He had gotten used to your perfume clinging to his hoodies, the smell of the shampoo brand you used, but in his hair, because he bought the same one but left it at home.

Now, all he had was a cold hotel bed and a head buzzing with every second of your smile.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone again, half-tempted to call back just to hear your voice one more time. Pathetic, he thought, and then chuckled at himself. You would probably tease him for it, but you would love it too.

"Fuck I love her." He muttered into the dark, staring at the wall for a moment, envisioning you pinned there. His eyes slipped shut, and for the first time on the road, he slept easily, because in his dreams, you were right there with him.

+

The weeks that followed blurred together: practice, buses, away games, but he was glad that the calls never changed. Every night, if he didn't see you on his screen, he felt like he couldn't breathe right.

He was always glued to his phone, and this night was no different.

The bus was loud as hell, music thumping low through the crappy speakers. Matt was arguing about shotgun rules even though nobody was driving, and Jolly tossed a bag of candy at Ruffilo's head just because.

Noah leaned back against the window, tugging his hood over his head as the screen lit up with your name. His pulse immediately tripped, and when he swiped, leaving your face to fill his phone, all the noise dulled.

"Hey, my beautiful girlfriend."

He loved calling you his, and it was something that made you blush every time he did it.

Of course, he didn't get two seconds before Folio was practically climbing into his lap, shouting at the camera. "Y/N, We love you! Come rescue us from him!"

"Move, man," Noah barked, shoving him off. The phone shook as Jolly leaned in next, flexing his bicep like an idiot.

"Check it, sis. All natural."

Matt leaned over the seat, flipped the camera off, and grinned like an asshole. Ruffilo waved both hands dramatically, yelling, "Panther sisterrrr!" while the rest of the boys screamed.

Noah slapped a hand over the lens. "Ignore them. I'm surrounded by children."

When he angled the camera back on himself, his lips curled. He pulled it closer to his face, ensuring that all you would be able to see was his nose. "See? Just me. Don't even worry about the zoo behind me."

You were laughing on the other end, that soft crackle of your voice through his AirPods making his chest tighten. Man, he missed you.

Then he pulled the phone away and glanced down the aisle, lips twitching. "Hold up."

He slipped past the chaos and ducked into his bunk. The curtain scraped shut, barely muffling the noise, but the glow from his phone lit only him now. The quiet was a relief, even if it wasn't silence.

He never got used to how easy it was to fall for you all over again, just by looking at his screen. His hair fell into his face, jaw tight from the grin he couldn't fight, eyes soft like he had just been caught staring for too long. All of it was for you.

Then his smile tugged sharply, teeth catching his lip before he sucked at them like he was holding something back. Fuck it. "By the way... thanks for those pics earlier. You're fucking hot."

Your blush hit him instantly, and Jesus, even in pixelated form, it floored him. His chest thumped, pulse wild, and the little tilt of your voice through his ears made his throat tighten. He could see the heat in your cheeks, groaning at the way you shifted in your blankets, trying to hide.

He chuckled with sin. "What? You thought I wouldn't look at them the second I got them?"

And then, before he could stop himself, he flipped the camera. His palm was already pressed over the thick line straining against his shorts, thumb dragging across the outline. The hiss that slipped out was quick, pulled deep from his chest.

"See what you do to me?" His whisper was low, careful not to be heard. He curled his fingers tighter, flexing his grip until it bordered on obscene, his body reacting just to your face on the other side of the glass. "Might not even make it to the next city if you keep this shit up."

He flipped the camera back, catching the way your lips parted and brows furrowed in frustration, like you couldn't decide whether to scold him or melt.

"Looks like I owe you once again," he muttered, smirk growing crooked even as his chest thundered.

He meant it to land cocky, but the truth sat heavy behind it, because every time he thought he had the upper hand, pushing and teasing and controlling the game, you wrecked him instead. And it was something he couldn't, wouldn't, stop chasing.

Noah leaned back into the thin mattress, dragging a hand down his chest while the screen glowed in the dark. He couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop wanting, and he loved every fucking second of it; you.

His mouth tilted wider, "Guess I'll just have to spend the rest of our life evening it out, huh?"

You laughed, muttering something about him being impossible, but then you told him you loved him.

He immediately relished those three words, refusing to fight the way his body lit up with warmth. They sank into his chest, threaded through every heartbeat, stronger than any roar of a crowd or slam of a goal horn.

He couldn't cover it with a tease or another joke, no matter how hard  he was. He just let himself sit in it and glow in the weight of knowing you loved him back.

"God, say it again," he rasped, half-laughing at himself as he dragged a hand down his face. "I don't care if I sound pathetic...I just, fuck, I needed that."

Silence stretched for a beat, but then you whispered it again, softer this time. The words wrapped around him like a blanket, and he swore he'd never get used to it. His chest ached in the best way, and he let his eyes slip shut, your voice echoing in his head like a prayer.

The pain of distance was always heavy, but no longer unbearable. Because now he had a countdown, something solid to hold onto. Just a few more weeks, and a handful of games, until he could have you in his arms again.

He couldn't wait to take you out to dinner, to kiss you like you'd stolen every breath from his lungs, to finally hand you the jersey he had stitched with his name across the back; the one he secretly hoped you would wear until it was soft and frayed, claimed as yours, as much as it was his.

But more than that, he ached for the small things. Things like buying you coffee instead of texting you good morning, waking up in the middle of the night with your hair in his face instead of an empty pillow, arguing about cereal brands in a grocery store aisle, and stealing your chapstick just to watch you pout.

He wanted normal boyfriend things; a lifetime of them.

And, if he were lucky, maybe you would wear nothing but that jersey the first night he got you back. 

tags: (Join/leave my taglist here)

@cookiesupplier @foliosgirl @xserenax-13 @dsireland86 @calleyx13

@xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @rumoured-whispers @99png @deathblacksmoke

@anameunmusical @sitkowski @darksigns-exe @ladyveronikawrites @ferduttini

@bluehairpunklol @kkaitxnichole @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lilgarbitch

@ami-gami @animal4princess-blog @kenjipepsi1 @sarahissilent @geminigirlfromfinland

@jesuisunchaton @lonelydragonlady @lacy1986 @xmads-omensx @bloody-spades

@carrieontillmay @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @renegadebirch @lyschko666 @popularpopularmonster

@dragoncopper @flowery-mess @heyyoplayer @spacec0wgirl777 @lukeevangelista

@reidsblessing @fellghost @sallyba3 @curse-bearing-hips @super-btstrash-posts

@c0ncr3t3-g1rl @traffordonna @dominuslunae @swissy23 @megthegoon

[sorrowsofsilence]

EEeeeee thank you lovely 🖤

biscuit • n.s || epilogue

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 1.8k || read time: ~8 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, fluffyyy, long distance, explicit language, Noah being suggestive through a facetime and showing some…things

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: I didn't wanna keep anyone waiting, so I cranked this out this evening. (I've been on my computer for over a day straight RIP to my eyeballs.) I also wanted to wrap up this series since I'm getting busier with my job, and won't have time to write... but also, now that it's done...I don't wanna let them go lmao. I love hockey Noah way too much bro, pls help.

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

Three months apart, and it still felt wrong.

The bus rides were too loud, the hotel rooms too quiet. The only thing that made it even a bit bearable was this: your face lighting up his phone.

"God," he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair as his smile tugged wide, "you have no idea how much better this makes my day."

You asked about practice, and he bitched about the drills, how Matt almost puked, and it all felt normal, as though you were in the room. But then the quiet came, and he couldn't stop staring at you on the screen, admiring the way your smile curved, already half-asleep.

"Hey," he said before he could second-guess himself, leaning closer until his phone camera picked up the shadow under his jaw. "Can I ask you something?"

You hummed, telling him he just did, and he scoffed, tongue running over his teeth. Smartass answer, as always. He rolled his eyes, but his pulse thudded hard. His teeth caught his lip as he sucked in a nervous breath, eyes darting to his side while his fingers picked at the sheet.

"I know we've been us for a while now...But I don't wanna go another day without you knowing it for real." He exhaled with a shaky sound. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

When you teased him first, he thought his heart was gonna choke him. He begged you not to bug him, and relief only came when you said yes. And then it all came spilling out, the words he had been carrying for weeks, months even.

"I love you."

He watched your eyes light up from his screen, and hearing you say it back without any hesitation made his heart race. He had to swallow twice and force air into his lungs because Jesus Christ, no win on the ice could compare to that.

Still, he couldn't let it stay that soft. That wasn't him; he loved getting a ruse out of you. So his grin tilted, the ache in his chest pushing out as a smirk.

"I wish I could be there in person to tell you," he shifted, leaning on his side and proping his face up with his palm. "But hey... when I say it in person, I'll make sure you're on your back so I can keep saying it until you scream it."

The way your cheeks flushed on his screen, and the way you buried your face in the blanket, he lived for that.

"What?" he teased, cheeky smile lines cutting deep. "You love me. You're stuck with this mouth."

The interruption came right on cue, Brady, bleary-eyed and grumpy in the doorway, muttering about it being past your bedtime, even though he was visiting your apartment because your parents were out of town. Noah laughed so hard he almost dropped the phone, praying your brother hadn't heard the filth that left his mouth.

When the door finally shut, he caught you again, cheeks warm, eyes rolling but shining. He softened then, because he couldn't help it...because it was you.

"You should get to bed, beautiful," he murmured, gaze steady through the phone. "Dream of me. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

And after saying 'I love you' again, the call ended, and the silence took over the room again.

Noah stared at his reflection in the black screen, thumb brushing over where your face had just been a moment ago. His chest ached, stomach sinking through the loneliness.

He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside him and collapsed backward, dragging a hand through his hair again. The room sheets smelled like cheap detergent, nothing like you, and it pissed him off. He had gotten used to your perfume clinging to his hoodies, the smell of the shampoo brand you used, but in his hair, because he bought the same one but left it at home.

Now, all he had was a cold hotel bed and a head buzzing with every second of your smile.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone again, half-tempted to call back just to hear your voice one more time. Pathetic, he thought, and then chuckled at himself. You would probably tease him for it, but you would love it too.

"Fuck I love her." He muttered into the dark, staring at the wall for a moment, envisioning you pinned there. His eyes slipped shut, and for the first time on the road, he slept easily, because in his dreams, you were right there with him.

+

The weeks that followed blurred together: practice, buses, away games, but he was glad that the calls never changed. Every night, if he didn't see you on his screen, he felt like he couldn't breathe right.

He was always glued to his phone, and this night was no different.

The bus was loud as hell, music thumping low through the crappy speakers. Matt was arguing about shotgun rules even though nobody was driving, and Jolly tossed a bag of candy at Ruffilo's head just because.

Noah leaned back against the window, tugging his hood over his head as the screen lit up with your name. His pulse immediately tripped, and when he swiped, leaving your face to fill his phone, all the noise dulled.

"Hey, my beautiful girlfriend."

He loved calling you his, and it was something that made you blush every time he did it.

Of course, he didn't get two seconds before Folio was practically climbing into his lap, shouting at the camera. "Y/N, We love you! Come rescue us from him!"

"Move, man," Noah barked, shoving him off. The phone shook as Jolly leaned in next, flexing his bicep like an idiot.

"Check it, sis. All natural."

Matt leaned over the seat, flipped the camera off, and grinned like an asshole. Ruffilo waved both hands dramatically, yelling, "Panther sisterrrr!" while the rest of the boys screamed.

Noah slapped a hand over the lens. "Ignore them. I'm surrounded by children."

When he angled the camera back on himself, his lips curled. He pulled it closer to his face, ensuring that all you would be able to see was his nose. "See? Just me. Don't even worry about the zoo behind me."

You were laughing on the other end, that soft crackle of your voice through his AirPods making his chest tighten. Man, he missed you.

Then he pulled the phone away and glanced down the aisle, lips twitching. "Hold up."

He slipped past the chaos and ducked into his bunk. The curtain scraped shut, barely muffling the noise, but the glow from his phone lit only him now. The quiet was a relief, even if it wasn't silence.

He never got used to how easy it was to fall for you all over again, just by looking at his screen. His hair fell into his face, jaw tight from the grin he couldn't fight, eyes soft like he had just been caught staring for too long. All of it was for you.

Then his smile tugged sharply, teeth catching his lip before he sucked at them like he was holding something back. Fuck it. "By the way... thanks for those pics earlier. You're fucking hot."

Your blush hit him instantly, and Jesus, even in pixelated form, it floored him. His chest thumped, pulse wild, and the little tilt of your voice through his ears made his throat tighten. He could see the heat in your cheeks, groaning at the way you shifted in your blankets, trying to hide.

He chuckled with sin. "What? You thought I wouldn't look at them the second I got them?"

And then, before he could stop himself, he flipped the camera. His palm was already pressed over the thick line straining against his shorts, thumb dragging across the outline. The hiss that slipped out was quick, pulled deep from his chest.

"See what you do to me?" His whisper was low, careful not to be heard. He curled his fingers tighter, flexing his grip until it bordered on obscene, his body reacting just to your face on the other side of the glass. "Might not even make it to the next city if you keep this shit up."

He flipped the camera back, catching the way your lips parted and brows furrowed in frustration, like you couldn't decide whether to scold him or melt.

"Looks like I owe you once again," he muttered, smirk growing crooked even as his chest thundered.

He meant it to land cocky, but the truth sat heavy behind it, because every time he thought he had the upper hand, pushing and teasing and controlling the game, you wrecked him instead. And it was something he couldn't, wouldn't, stop chasing.

Noah leaned back into the thin mattress, dragging a hand down his chest while the screen glowed in the dark. He couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop wanting, and he loved every fucking second of it; you.

His mouth tilted wider, "Guess I'll just have to spend the rest of our life evening it out, huh?"

You laughed, muttering something about him being impossible, but then you told him you loved him.

He immediately relished those three words, refusing to fight the way his body lit up with warmth. They sank into his chest, threaded through every heartbeat, stronger than any roar of a crowd or slam of a goal horn.

He couldn't cover it with a tease or another joke, no matter how hard  he was. He just let himself sit in it and glow in the weight of knowing you loved him back.

"God, say it again," he rasped, half-laughing at himself as he dragged a hand down his face. "I don't care if I sound pathetic...I just, fuck, I needed that."

Silence stretched for a beat, but then you whispered it again, softer this time. The words wrapped around him like a blanket, and he swore he'd never get used to it. His chest ached in the best way, and he let his eyes slip shut, your voice echoing in his head like a prayer.

The pain of distance was always heavy, but no longer unbearable. Because now he had a countdown, something solid to hold onto. Just a few more weeks, and a handful of games, until he could have you in his arms again.

He couldn't wait to take you out to dinner, to kiss you like you'd stolen every breath from his lungs, to finally hand you the jersey he had stitched with his name across the back; the one he secretly hoped you would wear until it was soft and frayed, claimed as yours, as much as it was his.

But more than that, he ached for the small things. Things like buying you coffee instead of texting you good morning, waking up in the middle of the night with your hair in his face instead of an empty pillow, arguing about cereal brands in a grocery store aisle, and stealing your chapstick just to watch you pout.

He wanted normal boyfriend things; a lifetime of them.

And, if he were lucky, maybe you would wear nothing but that jersey the first night he got you back. 

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[sorrowsofsilence]

I love your new theme👁👁

thank youuuu!! 🖤🥹 muah

[sorrowsofsilence]

Your reblogs always make my day; thank you so much for your kind words you are a gem 🥺🩷

Thank you thank you!

biscuit • n.s || chpt. seven

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 5.6k || read time: ~26 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dom!noah (homie is a little needy and rough ok), orgasm denial, spitting, nicknames (my girl, princess), slight choking, male and female orgasm, handjob / bj (its their last night dudes, things be... intense :)

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: damn... and just like that, this series is over. I feel sad lol. I think thats why this chapters really long; bc I just kept having things I wanted to put in, and tie it back to the whole fun weekend vibes. Thank you for all the love on this one; it really was a literal dream to write, and this filled my cup immensely. It was just so fun to live through; and I hope you enjoy this final chapter <3 Muah muah

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

The truck was still fogged when Noah shoved his sweats back into place, chest heaving.

Neither of you spoke at first, until he dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before reaching towards the door handle.

"You ready?" you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile as you walked back towards the arena. The way his thumb pressed firmly against your lower back made you shiver.

"Yeah," he said, though his voice rasped rough. Then, with a crooked smirk, "Especially with that good luck you gave me."

Before you could roll your eyes, the rink doors slid open and Jolly's voice cut across the lot.

"Noah! Quit making out with your girlfriend and get your ass inside!"

Heat shot up your neck, and you couldn't even fire back before Brady piped up behind him, almost distraught.

"Where were you? You abandoned me!"

Noah flashed them an easy grin. "Getting focused, dude. No stress, I'm sure you were in good hands.

Jolly tossed your brother a look. "The kid was raiding the vending machine and now has three bags of Skittles." His eyes darted to you, giving you a mock-sympathetic shrug.

"Hey! You weren't supposed to tell her." Brady crossed his arms while glaring at you. You shoved his shoulder as the four of you head inside, footsteps muffled by the black rubber floor

"We gotta change, warmups in ten," Noah said, pushing the tall gray door. "Wanna see what a real locker room's like before a final?"

"Old man locker room?" Brady shot back. "Gross.”

"It’s mostly fart jokes and playlists," Jolly said, slapping the cinderblock wall. "You'll love it.”

The sound hit before you even stepped inside, Folio's laugh carrying over a bass-heavy speaker thumping EDM.

Brady's eyes widened instantly, the nerves on his face melting into awe. "Holy crap. This is sick."

Matt, Folio, and Ruffilo were already scattered through the room, half-dressed, bantering loud enough to rattle the walls.

"Girl incoming!" Jolly yelled, "Make sure everyone's got pants!"

Multiple pairs of eyes darted toward you and Brady with a smirk.

"There he is!" Folio crowed from the corner, pointing his shin pads like a weapon. "Bro finally shows up. What were you doing, braiding her hair?"

Ruffilo snorted, tugging on his pads. "Nah, look at him. Guy's glowing."

"Put a shirt on before you blind me," Noah scoffed, bending down and unzipping his bag. "You clowns worried about me, or about the game?"

The room cracked up, whistles and howls bouncing off the walls, while Folio elbowed Matt, whispering, "Hm. I bet it was both."

Brady lingered just inside the doorway, eyes darting around like he'd stepped into another universe. You could practically feel his heartbeat hammering from here.

Matt tipped his chin toward him. "What's the kid staring at? Never seen a locker room before? Don't you change in here, too?"

"We aren't allowed to touch the aux," Brady blurted, voice louder than he meant. "This is insane. It's actually fun, like you guys are cool."

Folio barked a laugh, crushing his can of redbull against his thigh. "First lesson, little man. Locker room music sets the win. No good playlist, no good game."

Ruffilo leaned over with mock solemnity. "Second lesson? Superstition. Everybody's got one."

"Like... lucky socks?" Brady asked, intrigued with the wisdom he felt they were about to instill upon him.

Matt groaned. "Oh God, here we go."

Folio wagged his finger. "Laugh all you want, Matty Baby, but I've eaten the same gas station muffin before every playoff game since Bantams. Works every damn time."

"That explains so much," Ruffilo muttered.

Jolly laughed, lifting his jersey and pads to reveal a worn-out black t-shirt. "I've worn this shirt for three years every tournament game. Haven't washed it."

Matt gagged, tossing a towel over his head. "Pretty sure the shirt's playing harder than you are."

Ruffilo leaned forward, grinning as he slid his team socks over his shin pads. "What about you, rookie?"

Brady froze under the spotlight, glancing between you and them. "Uh...I guess I eat a granola bar before every game?"

"Lame," Folio declared, squirting water from his green Gatorade bottle into his mouth.

Before Brady could argue, Noah tossed him a roll of tape. "Nothing wrong with granola."

Your brother shrugged. "Ok, then what about you?"

"Me?" The brunette's eyes lifted, finding yours for a heartbeat too long, before glancing at the ground with a smile. "My good luck's covered."

The eruption was instant with Jolly's howl of laughter, and Matt pounding his foot against the floor.

Ruffilo started barking, throwing his glove at Folio, who barked back, throwing the fabric to the ground. "What a D-O-G, DAWG!"

A rush of heat washed over your face and ears, biting the inside of your cheek as you glanced in mock annoyance at number nineteen, who just chewed back a smile, taking his seat on the bench.

Brady frowned, looking between them. "What? I don't get it.”

The assistant coach then shoved through the door, clapping loudly. "Alright, let's go, Panthers. Warm-ups start in three. Get your asses moving.”

The whole room shifted, the easy banter simmering into focus. As the team moved out, you watched your player finish tugging on his gloves.

Noah stood, stick twirling once in his inked hand as he caught your eye, that smirk still pulling. "Come on, beautiful. I wanna hear you in the stands...I need you to help me win."

Before you could answer, he leaned in quick, pressing his mouth to yours in the briefest kiss; fast enough the others wouldn't clock it, but enough to leave you breathless.

"Good luck charm," he murmured with a shrug, then slung his stick over his shoulder and strode out.

You pushed Brady along, sinking into the bleachers just as Noah's number cut clean down the ice. He was loose and casual, though every line of him hummed with purpose.

“Uh- why are they posing?” Your brother asked, eyes narrowing at the boys as they began stretching.

The word almost fit when Noah and half the team dropped into deep lunges, sticks braced against the ice. His thighs stretched wide, ink flashing under rolled jerseys. Your mouth went dry.

"They're stretches," you hissed. "NHL players do it all the time."

Down on the ice, Folio's knees bounced in a ridiculous wiggle until Ruffilo whacked his stick. "Quit trying to twerk, man. Scouts are watching."

"Flexible hips, flexible player," Folio shot back.

You snorted into your sleeve, but Noah caught it. Like he couldn't stand your attention anywhere else, he coasted backward across center ice, sinking deliberately into another lunge; too smooth to be innocent. Just for you.

Then the whistle shrieked. Noah stood and tapped his stick once, smirk gone, with his shoulders squared.

Suddenly, it wasn't about the lunge, or the smiles, or even the kiss in the locker room. It was about this: the weight of expectation within the final game, the whole rink watching.

You could feel Brady bouncing back into the seat beside you, hands still damp from soap but fists pumping with energy. "Okay. Okay, this is it.”

The arena buzzed louder, stomps rattling the bleachers as the scouts' pens scratched from the balcony above.

Then the whistle blew again, and the puck dropped.

It clattered against the ice, sticks slamming as the players surged forward. The noise was instant, loud enough to rattle in your chest as you sat on the edge of your seat.

Noah didn't ease into it; he immediately threw his shoulder into the first winger that touched him, the glass vibrating from the impact. The crowd roared, stomping the bleachers.

"Holy!" Brady shouted, practically bouncing out of his seat. "Flattened pancake mode!"

You almost laughed, but Noah was already gone, blade carving the ice as he tracked the puck. He didn't need to score to make an impression; he was controlled, setting the tone and grinding the other team down until the end of his shift.

By the second period, the Panthers struck first. It was a quick cycle, Noah pinning a defenseman with sheer force, and Folio burying the rebound. The horn screamed, causing the bench of watchers and players to erupt, but Noah barely raised his arms. He tapped Folio's helmet, already gliding back to the center for faceoff.

It was almost mesmerizing, watching the way he crouched low at the dot, hunched over with his stick braced, glare locked on the opponent across from him. He wasn't the cocky, teasing player you knew. Noah was locked in, ruthless and devoted to the win.

The game built in flashes after that; a brutal faceoff win, Jolly's shot clanging off the post. Shift after shift, the Panthers suffocated their opposing team.

By the time the third period came, The Panthers were up a one-goal advantage, and the other team gambled everything, choosing to pull their goalie in place for an extra attacker. Six skaters swarmed the boys, the crowd's roar climbing while scouts scribbled in frantic bursts behind you.

With a quick slap, the puck whipped across the blue line toward the Panthers' end. Players shoved each other in chaotic bursts as their sticks hacked the ice, but in a swift moment, Noah pushed himself free, puck in his control.

Your heart hammered as his strides devoured the world in a clean, powerful glide; the empty net waiting for him ahead.

Brady leaned toward you, vibrating in his seat as he clung to your arm so tight it hurt. "Oh my god! Noah!" he screamed like Noah could hear him, shaking you hard enough to throw your body sideways. "The defender is nowhere- he's gonna-"

With the flick of his wrists, the puck sailed dead center, snapping the back of the mesh so hard it flew back out again.

Brady erupted, his jump yanking you sideways. Skittles spilled out of his pocket, rocketing to the floor with a series of tinks.

You wrapped an arm tight around your brother, laughing just as hard. The Panthers swarmed Noah in a dogpile of jerseys and shouts, relishing in their victory.

Brady gasped mid-cheer, eyes darting down. "My Skittles!" Then he whipped his head up again, voice cracking as he pumped both fists. "Never mind! He freaking did it! No one could even touch him!"

He spun toward you, grin splitting his face, jabbing at the ice. "And that's your boyfriend now!"

Heat flamed up your cheeks, crawling all the way to your nose and ears as you shoved him.

On the ice, Noah finally broke free of the pile, helmet crooked. His eyes found you like you were the only one in the arena, and his grin split wide, boyish.

Without hesitation, he ripped off his gloves, tossing them and his helmet to the ground, mouthguard shoved into his shorts. He didn't care about anything else; only about getting towards you.

Your feet carried you forward without thinking, standing right up against the boards. The crowd's roar doubled, players hollering as he closed in, eyes burning into yours.

'Come here,' he mouthed.

Then he slammed into the barrier, hands braced on either side of your ribs, and hauled you over like you weighed nothing. The second your shoes hit the ice, his mouth crashed to yours, unapologetic and scorching.

Noise exploded all around, but it only blurred into static as he kissed you with everything he had. All you could feel was Noah, holding you like he had won more than the game itself.

Your fingers clung to the back of his jersey, grazing the stitched letters of his name. You memorized the press of his tongue and the graze of his teeth, breath pulling from your lungs as he squeezed you tighter into his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, grin breathless. "You feel better than winning," he whispered.

Laughing against Noah's lips, you watched him with admiration. "You deserved that win. I'm so proud of you."

The praise undid him, his nose flushing through a faltering smirk, breath catching. "Don't say that," he rasped. "Not here. You'll kill me."

From across the rink, the glass rattled with Folio's scream. “GET A ROOM!"

Ruffilo and Matt pounded their sticks, Jolly cupping his hands as they skated around. "Save it for later, lovebirds!"

You flipped them off over Noah's shoulder, earning another roar.

And then Brady shrieked from the bleachers, horrified, his hood yanked over his head. "DISGUSTING! Stop spreading your cooties!"

Noah only ducked his head, burying his red ears against your temple, chuckling low as he muttered, "Let 'em chirp. I'm not letting you out of my arms anyway."

Eventually, the refs shooed you both towards the bench, and Noah pressed one last quick kiss to your hair before letting you slip back over the boards. He jogged down the tunnel on his skates with the others, the sound of their voices echoing after they disappeared.

It wasn't long before the team spilled into the corridor with a mix of beanies and ballcaps over their heads, faces still pink from the rush of the win.

Noah walked out beside Matt, his hockey bag dragging on wheels behind him. You watched as his eyes darted to you for a moment, before the sound of his name being called to a group of men standing next to the bleachers stole his attention.

You slowed, holding Brady back just enough to catch the way they spoke in low tones.

"Hell of a game," the scout said firmly, clapping Noah's shoulder. "We'll be in touch. Expect a call soon.”

Noah's throat worked like he was trying not to smile too wide, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He nodded once as he reached out for the man's hand again. "Thank you, sir. I look forward to it."

The scout gave one last nod, clipboard in hand and left Noah standing frozen in the buzz of his teammates. He licked his lips before they parted wide, radiant before chewing down on them.

Matt slammed an arm around his neck, dragging him into the middle of the group. "Atta boy! Drinks on Noah tonight!"

"Pool party!" Folio howled, already tossing his cap in the air.

"Let's gooooo!" Jolly bellowed, pounding on his back.

Brady looked up at you, awe growing in his eyes. "Wait, would that mean WHL? And then maybe NHL?"

But you ignored him, mesmerized with how Noah was still looking at you, beaming in the middle of the chaos.

+

The lobby was quiet until the boys stormed through, Ruffilo the loudest, arm slung over Jolly. "Pool's still open! Victory laps incoming!"

"Victory bellyflops, you mean," Matt muttered, grinning.

Folio placed an arm around Brady. "You comin', lil dude? We'll show you how pros cannonball."

Brady lit up. "Heck yes!"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jolly tossed a towel over his shoulder. "Relax, mom. He's an honorary Panther tonight."

Noah finally shook free of Matt's chokehold, tugging his cap low. When his gaze found you, his lip curled in certainty. "Come on, princess. Don't make me celebrate without you."

The elevator was chaos as Ruffilo and Jolly bickered over cannonball form, Brady bragging about his "secret splash technique." Noah stayed pressed at your side, hand firm at your waist in claim.

By the time they burst into the pool room, shirts were flying. Matt shoved Jolly into the deep end, Brady howling with laughter before cannonballing in himself. Folio slid in after him, grinning.

"Bellyflops are a canon event!"

You stayed perched on the plastic lounge chair, shaking your head.

“You’re not going in?” Noah asked, folding his arms.

With the shake of your head, you glanced up at him, following as he dropped beside you. His knee brushed yours briefly.

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on your circus."

Noah’s smile was small and tired. For a moment, you watched the chaos before you, then turned to him.

"Crazy thing is," he said softly, knuckles brushing yours warmly, “this might be the last time we all get to do this together."

You slipped your hand over his under the lip of the chair. His fingers tightened around yours, your skin growing goosebumps from his touch.

He sucked in a breath, refusing to look in your direction as he spoke lowly. "You have no idea how hard it is not to drag you upstairs right now."

Your chest tightened, and a mix of laughs carried from the water. “Oh really?”

Noah's jaw worked, then he called over the blonde in the pool. "Yo, Matt."

He cocked his head to the side, paddling closer. "What?"

"Keep an eye on the kid," Noah said, nodding towards your brother. "Make sure he gets back to your room if we aren't here in time."

Matt smirked, giving a mock salute. "Ahhh." He wiggled his brows, "Go do your thing, lover boy. I got him."

Satisfied, Noah stood, adjusting his pants while tugging you up with him, his hand locked with yours. "He's got my boys. He’ll be fine." Noah’s stare etched into yours. "But I need you."

And this time, he didn't wait for your answer.

He hauled you toward the door, strides long, your arm straining to keep up as laughter and splashing echoed behind. The heavy pool door slid shut, cutting the noise to a muffled hum.

Noah pulled you behind him quickly, and you hurried your footsteps, trying to match his.

"You're walking so fast," you whispered breathless, half-laughing as you stumbled to keep up with his pace.

Noah shot you a look over his shoulder, his jaw clenched with impatience. "What, did you want me to fuck you here in the hallway then? Let everyone watch?"

Your breath caught, the words sparking hot in your chest. "No-"

"Then keep up." His grip crushed yours tighter, dragging you with haste.

The carpet blurred under your feet as he pulled you down the hall. When you reached your room, you fumbled with the keycard, barely slipping it into the slot before Noah's hand shot past your shoulder.

He snatched the Do Not Disturb sign, slapped it onto the knob, then shoved the door shut with his sneaker. The deadbolt and latch clicked into place, sealing you both inside, and everyone else out.

For a beat, the silence pressed heavily. Then he ripped his cap off, tossing it aside as he stalked toward you with a single-minded authority that made your stomach flip. Noah's fingers hooked into your waistband, dragging you until the back of your legs hit the bed.

Without hesitating, he shoved you down hard enough to steal the air from your lungs.

"You know what I've been thinking about since dinner?" His voice was shredded, fingers already at your button, snapping it open and dragging your zipper down.

“What’s that?” You hummed, eyeing him intensely.

"Finally shoving my cock inside you tonight."

The blunt filth of it sparked heat straight between your legs. You grinned up at him as you shoved your jeans down yourself, peeling your shirt over your head. As he stood before the bed, he didn't lean down to kiss you; he just loomed, eyes locked on yours through the steady heave of his chest.

"I've been waiting all weekend." His hand slid lower, curling into your thong before snapping the band against your hip. "You're not fucking ready for what I'm about to do to you."

He grabbed your wrists, dragging them to the hem of his shirt, enticing you to tug the fabric.

"Take it off."

You peeled it slowly, adjusting yourself on your knees as you raised it inch by inch, revealing ink and muscle.

"I love that you listen so well." His voice dropped to a murmur as he guided your hands lower. His sweats hung dangerously low, and he pressed your palm against him, forcing you to feel the hardness of him waiting for you.

Noah held your hand in place, grinding into it, a breathy laugh spilling from his throat as you stroked him through the fabric. You moaned, smiling as you touched him; and your pulse shook when you shoved his waistband down, cock springing free.

Noah caught your chin, forcing your gaze up when it wanted to drop to his arousal. His mouth curled into something sinful.

"Get me nice and wet," his thumb brushed your jaw almost tenderly while he twitched in front of you. "Can you do that for me, baby?"

You nodded before you could think, sliding down onto your stomach, nearly hanging over the bed.

His hand guided yours at first, showing you how to wrap around him, palm dragging from base to tip until slick smeared your fingers. His head tipped back, veins straining in his neck.

"That's it. Fuck, just like that. Make me messy."

Working him steadily, his heat was heavy in your hand, before you leaned in with your tongue. Flattening it against his length, you licked him slowly, savouring the way his smile cracked through his groan. His cock gleamed in the dim light with every pass, wet and wanting under your mouth.

"Perfect," Noah gritted, brows drawn as he ground the length of himself against you. The swollen head pressed into your clit until your back arched.

Every thrust dragged the soaked fabric over your nerves, unbearable friction leaving you shaking. However, his hand pinned your hips when you tried to buck forward.

"Not yet," he laughed, slow and merciless. "You'll come when I want you to."

Your thighs trembled, moaning in protest. He hooked the band of your panties taut, pulling it snug between your folds as he rubbed along the stretched fabric. The blunt head caught your desire again and again until your face contorted in pleasure.

"That's it," he praised, eyes locked on your face. "Soaking through for me. You love it, don't you? My cock ruining your pretty little panties?"

He leaned down, spit glistening as it hit your cunt, making the lace even wetter. Your nails bit into your thighs as you held yourself open for him. When he rolled his tip just right, your body broke; hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm ripped through you, a flow of curses coming from your mouth.

"Fuck yes," Noah groaned, shoving the thong aside at last. Your release coated his cock as he dragged the head through your folds, smearing himself in your mess.

"And I didn't even fuck you yet." His laugh was half awe and mockery at how easily you fell apart for him.

Then, with a growl, he lined up and drove forward, the stretch of him instant. The first push of his body stole the air from your lungs, before he drove deeper, filling you.

"Jesus Christ, Noah." You gasped, clinging to the sheets, then his arms, then anything you could reach as he stayed buried inside you.

"Relax," he stuttered, broken, hips flush against yours. Sweat beaded at his temple, abs pulled taut as he forced himself to hold still. "You feel like you were made for me. My cock fits so perfectly inside your pussy."

He braced above you, gasping and pulling back slowly before slamming forward, the sound of your bodies colliding obscene in the quiet hotel room.

The rhythm he built came fast and needy, every thrust deep enough to rattle the mattress. His teeth clenched, head bowed, and eyes locked on the way he split you open, mesmerized by the glossy stretch around him.

"Look at that," Noah groaned, chuckling while driving harder. "Taking me so deep...God, you're swallowing me whole."

His thumb dug into your hip, dragging you onto him with each thrust until your thighs quivered, wet slaps echoing through the air.

You reached for his face, trying to anchor him, but his gaze stayed glued below, lips parted in desperation.

"You have the most perfect pussy," he panted, hips stuttering as he revelled in the sight of you.

As your hand slid between your thighs to chase the edge, your walls tightened around his body. "How do you feel so good? I can't-"

"Yes, you can." His eyes finally snapped up, latching onto yours through molten lust. "You're gonna come for me, on my cock, because I need to see you cream around me, Y/N. Right fucking now."

Noah's hand left your hip, sliding up your torso until his fingers curled around your throat. He didn't squeeze; he just pressed you down, claiming you and forcing your eyes to stay locked on him.

"Eyes on me," Noah demanded, slamming deeper, his cock dragging against every nerve. "I want to watch you break while I'm inside you."

A choked laugh caught your lips while your body shook under the relentless thrusts and weight of his hand. He pinned you to the bed, the feeling of his hands devouring you and pushing your climax. The release snapped suddenly and brutally, your desire clenching tight.

"Fuck yes," he growled, eyes burning into yours as you shattered beneath him. "That's my girl. My perfect fucking girl."

A cry tore free despite his hand around your throat, body vibrating with the force of it. But Noah didn't slow; if anything, your orgasm spurred him on, thrusts growing frantic while chasing the squeeze of you milking him.

Overstimulation burned through you, thighs trying to snap shut, but his grip at your throat pinned you wide open.

"I told you that you weren't ready." He said, hair falling wildly over his eyes. "And I'm still not done with you."

He released your throat only to flip you onto your stomach, dragging you up by the thighs and slamming back into you with a growl. The sudden depth made you cry out, muffled against the pillow as he raked his fingers down your spine, gripping your ass and kneading the skin roughly.

Noah groaned, leaning until his chest was heavy across your back, his arm looping under your throat, hauling you upright. The chokehold pinned you to him while he drove in from behind, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. "You're mine, you hear me? Mine."

"Make me yours fully, Noah," you gasped, clutching his forearm while your head fell back onto his shoulder. When your legs buckled, he caught you, flipping you onto your back again in one brutal motion.

He pulled out quickly, crawling over you, catching your lips in a filthy kiss as he hauled you onto his lap, forcing you down on his cock.

Straddling him, you sank slowly, breath shuddering as your hands spread across the ink of his chest. His grip locked on your hips instantly, grinding you harder, making you feel every inch.

"God, you look so pretty up there," he muttered through bared teeth, running his hands up your body until gripping your chest, squeezing your skin.

You lifted in a shaky rhythm, riding him as best you could through your aching body, but it wasn't enough, and Noah's patience snapped. With a guttural sound, he thrust upward, bouncing you in his lap with violent precision.

"Pathetic," he scoffed, dragging you down harder. "You teased me all weekend and thought you could just take your time? That's not how this works." His hand caught the back of your neck, yanking you down and into another kiss, tongue owning yours.

"Then prove to me it's been worth the wait," you whispered against his lips.

His body snapped harder, breaking you into whimpers as he answered with action instead of words. Your nails dug into his shoulders, head tipping back in a plea. "Noah, please cum for me. I need it."

His exhale ripped out like you knocked the air from his chest, his pace faltering before coming back even more violent. His teeth grazed your jaw, trailing down your throat before landing on your collarbone.

"You. Don't. Get. It." Each word followed a thrust. "I'm not stopping till you can't say my name without crying. You want me to cum? Beg louder, princess."

Your voice cracked. "Noah, please. Please, I'm begging...I can't, I need-."

"That's it," he snarled, mouth hot against your neck, sucking until you knew he would leave a mark. His pace turned punishing, every snap of his hips so deep the world spun. His arms locked you to his chest, hand tangled at the back of your head, forcing you through another orgasm that ripped you apart.

You shook around him, gasping his name like a prayer.

"Again," he growled, tongue circling your pulse as he hid in the crook of your neck. "Beg me like you mean it. I'll paint you full if you beg loud enough, pretty girl."

The name wrecked you, dragging another climax from your body. Your thighs trembled where they straddled him, desire clenching so hard his rhythm faltered.

You sobbed his name, giving Noah exactly what he wanted as your limbs gave way.

"Not done," he rasped, hauling your mouth to his before flipping you onto your side, still buried deep. His chest pressed to your back, breath ragged at your shoulder, while spooning you. "You're giving me every goddamn second before I lose you."

His arm clamped around your middle, holding you fused together as he trembled. Seconds later, his body stuttered, groaning against your neck as he finally spilled inside you, flooding you full.

Even when you shifted, he wouldn't let go; still grunting through the aftershock, arms wrapped around you in claim.

The room hushed to nothing but tangled breaths and twisted sheets. Sweat slicked your skin where it met his, and his fingers brushed yours blindly, locking your hands together in the mess of it all.

When Noah finally eased, he pressed a few reverent kisses along your shoulder, soft.

"Please don't go," you whispered, pressing back into him.

His reply broke against your skin. "I don't want this night to end."

Tears burned, but you whispered back anyway. "Then we'll just keep replaying it... until even the silence remembers us."

+

Somehow, it felt harder to get ready in the morning. Brady shoved clothes into his duffel with no hesitation, muttering about finally being rid of hotel food.

But you couldn't even bring yourself to put your shoes on at the door, knowing that once you did, things were really over. The laces hung loose between your fingers as you sat on the bed, the sheets still tangled and smelling faintly of him.

Brady zipped his bag and dragged it across the floor. "You ready yet?"

You swallowed, forcing your hands to move. Threading each lace, the pull only tightened the goodbye.

The hallway felt cruel in its quiet, the hum of the vending machine suddenly too loud. Every step toward the elevator pressed like a countdown; and when you made it to the lobby, you chewed back the lump that grew in your throat.

Noah sat in the chair by the fireplace, that stupid, insufferable beanie in place, elbows braced on his knees. His eyes lifted the second you stepped out of the elevator, locking onto yours with a weight that stopped you mid-step.

For a beat, you couldn't breathe, and then he rose through your hesitation.

This was the first time he didn't smile when seeing you.

Brady blinked between you both, shoulders stiff. "I'll...uh...go grab a muffin," he mumbled, bolting toward the buffet without waiting for a reply.

The moment your brother's back turned, Noah stepped forward and closed the space. His hand immediately found yours, squeezing tight enough that your fingers ached. He smelled like soap and cologne; but beneath it lingered the ghost of last night, and everything you both weren't ready to let go of.

"Hey," he whispered. "Guess this is it."

Your throat closed, glancing away for a moment, clawing at the sleeves of your sweater. "I hate that it is."

For the first time since you had met him, he looked unsure. His eyes traced your face, pupils wide and dark.

"I don't want you to think..." He shook his head, exhaling hard. "Last night wasn't just... it wasn't just a game high, or me being reckless. This whole weekend wasn't that. You know that, right?"

"I know." Your chest burned. "It was real."

His mouth twitched, then he stepped forward, cupping your face. The kiss he gave you wasn't like all the others the past couple days. It was soft, delicate, and desperate; a kind of longing you had never tasted before.

His thumb brushed your cheekbone, fingers shaking, before he pulled you into his chest. His arms locked tight around you, and you clutched the back of his hoodie to hold him there forever.

"I'll miss you." You mumbled into him.

His chin dipped, lips brushing the crown of your head. "I'm already missing you."

And when he pulled back, his hands lingered on your cheeks, unwilling to let go.

"Seriously? In front of the muffins?!" Brady shouted from behind you.

The two of you laughed briefly, and then Noah drew one last breath, eyes refusing to leave yours.

"I'll find you.”

His hands fell away, arms sunk, and he bent down to sling his hockey bag over his shoulder. You felt it in your chest as he turned toward the lobby doors, the ache of finality hollowing your chest.

Noah made it all of three steps before pausing, head tipping as he turned back around.

With a tight smile pulling at your lips, you watched as the sadness lingered on his features, but then there was something else. His brow lifted swiftly in that familiar quizzical tilt, and then his lips curled in his signature agonizingly annoying smirk.

He shrugged lightly, clicking his tongue as he hitched his bag higher on one shoulder, the other hand shoved into his pocket.

"Hey. By the way..." He was quiet for a moment, teasing yet soft. "I've got this friend who thinks you're pretty cute. Mind if I get your number for him?"

You blinked then cracked a laugh, pulling out your phone with the shake of your head. "God, you're ridiculous."

And the grin that spread across his face was the same one that started it all.

Thank you so so so much for reading. I appreciate you all immensely, and am grateful for the reblogs, comments, and love. Perhaps an epilogue would be fun. ☺️

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[sorrowsofsilence]

[sorrowsofsilence]

reblog for more tags since list is full <3

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biscuit • n.s || epilogue

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 1.8k || read time: ~8 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, fluffyyy, long distance, explicit language, Noah being suggestive through a facetime and showing some…things

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: I didn't wanna keep anyone waiting, so I cranked this out this evening. (I've been on my computer for over a day straight RIP to my eyeballs.) I also wanted to wrap up this series since I'm getting busier with my job, and won't have time to write... but also, now that it's done...I don't wanna let them go lmao. I love hockey Noah way too much bro, pls help.

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

Three months apart, and it still felt wrong.

The bus rides were too loud, the hotel rooms too quiet. The only thing that made it even a bit bearable was this: your face lighting up his phone.

"God," he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair as his smile tugged wide, "you have no idea how much better this makes my day."

You asked about practice, and he bitched about the drills, how Matt almost puked, and it all felt normal, as though you were in the room. But then the quiet came, and he couldn't stop staring at you on the screen, admiring the way your smile curved, already half-asleep.

"Hey," he said before he could second-guess himself, leaning closer until his phone camera picked up the shadow under his jaw. "Can I ask you something?"

You hummed, telling him he just did, and he scoffed, tongue running over his teeth. Smartass answer, as always. He rolled his eyes, but his pulse thudded hard. His teeth caught his lip as he sucked in a nervous breath, eyes darting to his side while his fingers picked at the sheet.

"I know we've been us for a while now...But I don't wanna go another day without you knowing it for real." He exhaled with a shaky sound. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

When you teased him first, he thought his heart was gonna choke him. He begged you not to bug him, and relief only came when you said yes. And then it all came spilling out, the words he had been carrying for weeks, months even.

"I love you."

He watched your eyes light up from his screen, and hearing you say it back without any hesitation made his heart race. He had to swallow twice and force air into his lungs because Jesus Christ, no win on the ice could compare to that.

Still, he couldn't let it stay that soft. That wasn't him; he loved getting a ruse out of you. So his grin tilted, the ache in his chest pushing out as a smirk.

"I wish I could be there in person to tell you," he shifted, leaning on his side and proping his face up with his palm. "But hey... when I say it in person, I'll make sure you're on your back so I can keep saying it until you scream it."

The way your cheeks flushed on his screen, and the way you buried your face in the blanket, he lived for that.

"What?" he teased, cheeky smile lines cutting deep. "You love me. You're stuck with this mouth."

The interruption came right on cue, Brady, bleary-eyed and grumpy in the doorway, muttering about it being past your bedtime, even though he was visiting your apartment because your parents were out of town. Noah laughed so hard he almost dropped the phone, praying your brother hadn't heard the filth that left his mouth.

When the door finally shut, he caught you again, cheeks warm, eyes rolling but shining. He softened then, because he couldn't help it...because it was you.

"You should get to bed, beautiful," he murmured, gaze steady through the phone. "Dream of me. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

And after saying 'I love you' again, the call ended, and the silence took over the room again.

Noah stared at his reflection in the black screen, thumb brushing over where your face had just been a moment ago. His chest ached, stomach sinking through the loneliness.

He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside him and collapsed backward, dragging a hand through his hair again. The room sheets smelled like cheap detergent, nothing like you, and it pissed him off. He had gotten used to your perfume clinging to his hoodies, the smell of the shampoo brand you used, but in his hair, because he bought the same one but left it at home.

Now, all he had was a cold hotel bed and a head buzzing with every second of your smile.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone again, half-tempted to call back just to hear your voice one more time. Pathetic, he thought, and then chuckled at himself. You would probably tease him for it, but you would love it too.

"Fuck I love her." He muttered into the dark, staring at the wall for a moment, envisioning you pinned there. His eyes slipped shut, and for the first time on the road, he slept easily, because in his dreams, you were right there with him.

+

The weeks that followed blurred together: practice, buses, away games, but he was glad that the calls never changed. Every night, if he didn't see you on his screen, he felt like he couldn't breathe right.

He was always glued to his phone, and this night was no different.

The bus was loud as hell, music thumping low through the crappy speakers. Matt was arguing about shotgun rules even though nobody was driving, and Jolly tossed a bag of candy at Ruffilo's head just because.

Noah leaned back against the window, tugging his hood over his head as the screen lit up with your name. His pulse immediately tripped, and when he swiped, leaving your face to fill his phone, all the noise dulled.

"Hey, my beautiful girlfriend."

He loved calling you his, and it was something that made you blush every time he did it.

Of course, he didn't get two seconds before Folio was practically climbing into his lap, shouting at the camera. "Y/N, We love you! Come rescue us from him!"

"Move, man," Noah barked, shoving him off. The phone shook as Jolly leaned in next, flexing his bicep like an idiot.

"Check it, sis. All natural."

Matt leaned over the seat, flipped the camera off, and grinned like an asshole. Ruffilo waved both hands dramatically, yelling, "Panther sisterrrr!" while the rest of the boys screamed.

Noah slapped a hand over the lens. "Ignore them. I'm surrounded by children."

When he angled the camera back on himself, his lips curled. He pulled it closer to his face, ensuring that all you would be able to see was his nose. "See? Just me. Don't even worry about the zoo behind me."

You were laughing on the other end, that soft crackle of your voice through his AirPods making his chest tighten. Man, he missed you.

Then he pulled the phone away and glanced down the aisle, lips twitching. "Hold up."

He slipped past the chaos and ducked into his bunk. The curtain scraped shut, barely muffling the noise, but the glow from his phone lit only him now. The quiet was a relief, even if it wasn't silence.

He never got used to how easy it was to fall for you all over again, just by looking at his screen. His hair fell into his face, jaw tight from the grin he couldn't fight, eyes soft like he had just been caught staring for too long. All of it was for you.

Then his smile tugged sharply, teeth catching his lip before he sucked at them like he was holding something back. Fuck it. "By the way... thanks for those pics earlier. You're fucking hot."

Your blush hit him instantly, and Jesus, even in pixelated form, it floored him. His chest thumped, pulse wild, and the little tilt of your voice through his ears made his throat tighten. He could see the heat in your cheeks, groaning at the way you shifted in your blankets, trying to hide.

He chuckled with sin. "What? You thought I wouldn't look at them the second I got them?"

And then, before he could stop himself, he flipped the camera. His palm was already pressed over the thick line straining against his shorts, thumb dragging across the outline. The hiss that slipped out was quick, pulled deep from his chest.

"See what you do to me?" His whisper was low, careful not to be heard. He curled his fingers tighter, flexing his grip until it bordered on obscene, his body reacting just to your face on the other side of the glass. "Might not even make it to the next city if you keep this shit up."

He flipped the camera back, catching the way your lips parted and brows furrowed in frustration, like you couldn't decide whether to scold him or melt.

"Looks like I owe you once again," he muttered, smirk growing crooked even as his chest thundered.

He meant it to land cocky, but the truth sat heavy behind it, because every time he thought he had the upper hand, pushing and teasing and controlling the game, you wrecked him instead. And it was something he couldn't, wouldn't, stop chasing.

Noah leaned back into the thin mattress, dragging a hand down his chest while the screen glowed in the dark. He couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop wanting, and he loved every fucking second of it; you.

His mouth tilted wider, "Guess I'll just have to spend the rest of our life evening it out, huh?"

You laughed, muttering something about him being impossible, but then you told him you loved him.

He immediately relished those three words, refusing to fight the way his body lit up with warmth. They sank into his chest, threaded through every heartbeat, stronger than any roar of a crowd or slam of a goal horn.

He couldn't cover it with a tease or another joke, no matter how hard  he was. He just let himself sit in it and glow in the weight of knowing you loved him back.

"God, say it again," he rasped, half-laughing at himself as he dragged a hand down his face. "I don't care if I sound pathetic...I just, fuck, I needed that."

Silence stretched for a beat, but then you whispered it again, softer this time. The words wrapped around him like a blanket, and he swore he'd never get used to it. His chest ached in the best way, and he let his eyes slip shut, your voice echoing in his head like a prayer.

The pain of distance was always heavy, but no longer unbearable. Because now he had a countdown, something solid to hold onto. Just a few more weeks, and a handful of games, until he could have you in his arms again.

He couldn't wait to take you out to dinner, to kiss you like you'd stolen every breath from his lungs, to finally hand you the jersey he had stitched with his name across the back; the one he secretly hoped you would wear until it was soft and frayed, claimed as yours, as much as it was his.

But more than that, he ached for the small things. Things like buying you coffee instead of texting you good morning, waking up in the middle of the night with your hair in his face instead of an empty pillow, arguing about cereal brands in a grocery store aisle, and stealing your chapstick just to watch you pout.

He wanted normal boyfriend things; a lifetime of them.

And, if he were lucky, maybe you would wear nothing but that jersey the first night he got you back. 

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[sorrowsofsilence]

biscuit • n.s || epilogue

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 1.8k || read time: ~8 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, fluffyyy, long distance, explicit language, Noah being suggestive through a facetime and showing some…things

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: I didn't wanna keep anyone waiting, so I cranked this out this evening. (I've been on my computer for over a day straight RIP to my eyeballs.) I also wanted to wrap up this series since I'm getting busier with my job, and won't have time to write... but also, now that it's done...I don't wanna let them go lmao. I love hockey Noah way too much bro, pls help.

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

Three months apart, and it still felt wrong.

The bus rides were too loud, the hotel rooms too quiet. The only thing that made it even a bit bearable was this: your face lighting up his phone.

"God," he muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair as his smile tugged wide, "you have no idea how much better this makes my day."

You asked about practice, and he bitched about the drills, how Matt almost puked, and it all felt normal, as though you were in the room. But then the quiet came, and he couldn't stop staring at you on the screen, admiring the way your smile curved, already half-asleep.

"Hey," he said before he could second-guess himself, leaning closer until his phone camera picked up the shadow under his jaw. "Can I ask you something?"

You hummed, telling him he just did, and he scoffed, tongue running over his teeth. Smartass answer, as always. He rolled his eyes, but his pulse thudded hard. His teeth caught his lip as he sucked in a nervous breath, eyes darting to his side while his fingers picked at the sheet.

"I know we've been us for a while now...But I don't wanna go another day without you knowing it for real." He exhaled with a shaky sound. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

When you teased him first, he thought his heart was gonna choke him. He begged you not to bug him, and relief only came when you said yes. And then it all came spilling out, the words he had been carrying for weeks, months even.

"I love you."

He watched your eyes light up from his screen, and hearing you say it back without any hesitation made his heart race. He had to swallow twice and force air into his lungs because Jesus Christ, no win on the ice could compare to that.

Still, he couldn't let it stay that soft. That wasn't him; he loved getting a ruse out of you. So his grin tilted, the ache in his chest pushing out as a smirk.

"I wish I could be there in person to tell you," he shifted, leaning on his side and proping his face up with his palm. "But hey... when I say it in person, I'll make sure you're on your back so I can keep saying it until you scream it."

The way your cheeks flushed on his screen, and the way you buried your face in the blanket, he lived for that.

"What?" he teased, cheeky smile lines cutting deep. "You love me. You're stuck with this mouth."

The interruption came right on cue, Brady, bleary-eyed and grumpy in the doorway, muttering about it being past your bedtime, even though he was visiting your apartment because your parents were out of town. Noah laughed so hard he almost dropped the phone, praying your brother hadn't heard the filth that left his mouth.

When the door finally shut, he caught you again, cheeks warm, eyes rolling but shining. He softened then, because he couldn't help it...because it was you.

"You should get to bed, beautiful," he murmured, gaze steady through the phone. "Dream of me. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

And after saying 'I love you' again, the call ended, and the silence took over the room again.

Noah stared at his reflection in the black screen, thumb brushing over where your face had just been a moment ago. His chest ached, stomach sinking through the loneliness.

He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside him and collapsed backward, dragging a hand through his hair again. The room sheets smelled like cheap detergent, nothing like you, and it pissed him off. He had gotten used to your perfume clinging to his hoodies, the smell of the shampoo brand you used, but in his hair, because he bought the same one but left it at home.

Now, all he had was a cold hotel bed and a head buzzing with every second of your smile.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the phone again, half-tempted to call back just to hear your voice one more time. Pathetic, he thought, and then chuckled at himself. You would probably tease him for it, but you would love it too.

"Fuck I love her." He muttered into the dark, staring at the wall for a moment, envisioning you pinned there. His eyes slipped shut, and for the first time on the road, he slept easily, because in his dreams, you were right there with him.

+

The weeks that followed blurred together: practice, buses, away games, but he was glad that the calls never changed. Every night, if he didn't see you on his screen, he felt like he couldn't breathe right.

He was always glued to his phone, and this night was no different.

The bus was loud as hell, music thumping low through the crappy speakers. Matt was arguing about shotgun rules even though nobody was driving, and Jolly tossed a bag of candy at Ruffilo's head just because.

Noah leaned back against the window, tugging his hood over his head as the screen lit up with your name. His pulse immediately tripped, and when he swiped, leaving your face to fill his phone, all the noise dulled.

"Hey, my beautiful girlfriend."

He loved calling you his, and it was something that made you blush every time he did it.

Of course, he didn't get two seconds before Folio was practically climbing into his lap, shouting at the camera. "Y/N, We love you! Come rescue us from him!"

"Move, man," Noah barked, shoving him off. The phone shook as Jolly leaned in next, flexing his bicep like an idiot.

"Check it, sis. All natural."

Matt leaned over the seat, flipped the camera off, and grinned like an asshole. Ruffilo waved both hands dramatically, yelling, "Panther sisterrrr!" while the rest of the boys screamed.

Noah slapped a hand over the lens. "Ignore them. I'm surrounded by children."

When he angled the camera back on himself, his lips curled. He pulled it closer to his face, ensuring that all you would be able to see was his nose. "See? Just me. Don't even worry about the zoo behind me."

You were laughing on the other end, that soft crackle of your voice through his AirPods making his chest tighten. Man, he missed you.

Then he pulled the phone away and glanced down the aisle, lips twitching. "Hold up."

He slipped past the chaos and ducked into his bunk. The curtain scraped shut, barely muffling the noise, but the glow from his phone lit only him now. The quiet was a relief, even if it wasn't silence.

He never got used to how easy it was to fall for you all over again, just by looking at his screen. His hair fell into his face, jaw tight from the grin he couldn't fight, eyes soft like he had just been caught staring for too long. All of it was for you.

Then his smile tugged sharply, teeth catching his lip before he sucked at them like he was holding something back. Fuck it. "By the way... thanks for those pics earlier. You're fucking hot."

Your blush hit him instantly, and Jesus, even in pixelated form, it floored him. His chest thumped, pulse wild, and the little tilt of your voice through his ears made his throat tighten. He could see the heat in your cheeks, groaning at the way you shifted in your blankets, trying to hide.

He chuckled with sin. "What? You thought I wouldn't look at them the second I got them?"

And then, before he could stop himself, he flipped the camera. His palm was already pressed over the thick line straining against his shorts, thumb dragging across the outline. The hiss that slipped out was quick, pulled deep from his chest.

"See what you do to me?" His whisper was low, careful not to be heard. He curled his fingers tighter, flexing his grip until it bordered on obscene, his body reacting just to your face on the other side of the glass. "Might not even make it to the next city if you keep this shit up."

He flipped the camera back, catching the way your lips parted and brows furrowed in frustration, like you couldn't decide whether to scold him or melt.

"Looks like I owe you once again," he muttered, smirk growing crooked even as his chest thundered.

He meant it to land cocky, but the truth sat heavy behind it, because every time he thought he had the upper hand, pushing and teasing and controlling the game, you wrecked him instead. And it was something he couldn't, wouldn't, stop chasing.

Noah leaned back into the thin mattress, dragging a hand down his chest while the screen glowed in the dark. He couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop wanting, and he loved every fucking second of it; you.

His mouth tilted wider, "Guess I'll just have to spend the rest of our life evening it out, huh?"

You laughed, muttering something about him being impossible, but then you told him you loved him.

He immediately relished those three words, refusing to fight the way his body lit up with warmth. They sank into his chest, threaded through every heartbeat, stronger than any roar of a crowd or slam of a goal horn.

He couldn't cover it with a tease or another joke, no matter how hard  he was. He just let himself sit in it and glow in the weight of knowing you loved him back.

"God, say it again," he rasped, half-laughing at himself as he dragged a hand down his face. "I don't care if I sound pathetic...I just, fuck, I needed that."

Silence stretched for a beat, but then you whispered it again, softer this time. The words wrapped around him like a blanket, and he swore he'd never get used to it. His chest ached in the best way, and he let his eyes slip shut, your voice echoing in his head like a prayer.

The pain of distance was always heavy, but no longer unbearable. Because now he had a countdown, something solid to hold onto. Just a few more weeks, and a handful of games, until he could have you in his arms again.

He couldn't wait to take you out to dinner, to kiss you like you'd stolen every breath from his lungs, to finally hand you the jersey he had stitched with his name across the back; the one he secretly hoped you would wear until it was soft and frayed, claimed as yours, as much as it was his.

But more than that, he ached for the small things. Things like buying you coffee instead of texting you good morning, waking up in the middle of the night with your hair in his face instead of an empty pillow, arguing about cereal brands in a grocery store aisle, and stealing your chapstick just to watch you pout.

He wanted normal boyfriend things; a lifetime of them.

And, if he were lucky, maybe you would wear nothing but that jersey the first night he got you back. 

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[sorrowsofsilence]

[sorrowsofsilence]

llya Kaminsky, from "Praise", Dancing in Odessa

[sorrowsofsilence]

Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies

[sorrowsofsilence]

Oops I also realized I forgot to reblog with more tags last night; so here are those too <3

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biscuit • n.s || chpt. seven

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 5.4k || read time: ~26 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dom!noah (homie is a little needy and rough ok), orgasm denial, spitting, nicknames (my girl, princess), male and female orgasm, handjob / bj (its their last night dudes, things be... intense :)

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: damn... and just like that, this series is over. I feel sad lol. I think thats why this chapters really long; bc I just kept having things I wanted to put in, and tie it back to the whole fun weekend vibes. Thank you for all the love on this one; it really was a literal dream to write, and this filled my cup immensely. It was just so fun to live through; and I hope you enjoy this final chapter <3 Muah muah (I re-wrote this quite a bit, which is also why it took me longer to get out; but with that being said atm it’s not fully proof read, bc its almost 3am lol and I don't wanna delay sharing any longer!!)

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

The truck was still fogged when Noah shoved his sweats back into place, chest heaving.

Neither of you spoke at first, until he dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before reaching towards the door handle.

"You ready?" you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile as you walked back towards the arena. The way his thumb pressed firmly against your lower back made you shiver.

"Yeah," he said, though his voice rasped rough. Then, with a crooked smirk, "Especially with that good luck you gave me."

Before you could roll your eyes, the rink doors slid open and Jolly's voice cut across the lot.

"Noah! Quit making out with your girlfriend and get your ass inside!"

Heat shot up your neck, and you couldn't even fire up before Brady piped up behind him, almost distraught.

"Where were you? You abandoned me!"

Noah flashed them an easy grin. "Getting focused, dude. No stress, I'm sure you were in good hands."

Jolly tossed your brother a look. "The kid was raiding the vending machine and now has three bags of Skittles." His eyes darted to you, giving you a mock-sympathetic shrug.

"Hey! You weren't supposed to tell her." Brady crossed his arms while glaring at you. You shoved his shoulder as the four of you head inside, footsteps muffled by the black rubber floor

"We gotta change, warmup in ten," Noah said, pushing the tall gray door. "Wanna see what a real locker room's like before a final?"

"Old man locker room?" Brady shot back. "Gross."

"Mostly fart jokes and playlists," Jolly said, slapping the cinderblock wall. "You'll love it."

The sound hit before you even stepped inside, Folio's laugh carrying over a bass-heavy speaker thumping EDM.

Brady's eyes widened instantly, the nerves on his face melting into awe. "Holy crap. This is sick."

Matt, Folio, and Jolly were already scattered through the room, half-dressed, bantering loud enough to rattle the walls.

"Girl incoming!" Jolly yelled, "Make sure everyone's got pants!"

Multiple pairs of eyes darted toward you and Brady with a smirk.

"There he is!" Folio crowed from the corner, pointing his shin pads like a weapon. "Bro finally shows up. What were you doing, braiding her hair?"

Ruffilo snorted, tugging on his pads. "Nah, look at him. Guy's glowing."

"Put a shirt on before you blind me," Noah said, bending down and unzipping his bag. "You clowns worried about me, or about the scoreboard?"

The room cracked up, whistles and howls bouncing off the walls, while Folio elbowed Ruffilo, whispering, "Hm. I bet it was both."

Brady lingered just inside the doorway, eyes darting around like he'd stepped into another universe. You could practically feel his heartbeat hammering from here.

Matt tipped his chin toward him. "What's the kid staring at? Never seen a locker room before? Don't you change in here, too?"

"We aren't allowed to touch the aux," Brady blurted, voice louder than he meant. "This is insane. It's actually fun, like you guys are cool."

Folio barked a laugh, crushing his can of redbull against his thigh. "First lesson, little man. Locker room music sets the win. No good playlist, no good game."

Ruffilo leaned over with mock solemnity. "Second lesson? Superstition. Everybody's got one."

"Like... lucky socks?" Brady asked, intrigued with the wisdom he felt they were about to instill upon him.

Matt groaned. "Oh God, here we go."

Folio wagged his finger. "Laugh all you want, Matty Baby, but I've eaten the same gas station muffin before every playoff game since Bantams. Works every damn time."

"That explains so much," Ruffilo muttered.

Jolly laughed, rolling his eyes before lifting his jersey and pads to reveal a worn-out black t-shirt. "I've worn this shirt for three years. Haven't washed it."

Matt gagged, tossing a towel over his head. "Pretty sure the shirt's playing harder than you are."

Ruffilo leaned forward, grinning as he slid his team socks over his shin pads. "What about you, rookie?"

Brady froze under the spotlight, glancing between you and them. "Uh...I guess I eat a granola bar before every game?"

"Lame," Folio declared, squirting water from his green Gatorade bottle into his mouth.

Before Brady could argue, Noah tossed him a roll of tape. "Nothing wrong with granola."

Your brother shrugged. "Ok, then what about you?"

"Me?" The brunette's eyes lifted, finding yours for a heartbeat too long, before glancing at the ground with a smile. "My good luck's covered."

The eruption was instant with Jolly's howl of laughter, and Matt pounding his foot against the floor.

Ruffilo started barking, throwing his glove at Folio, who barked back, throwing the fabric to the ground. "What a D-O-G DAWG!"

A rush of heat washed over your cheeks and ears, biting the inside of your cheek as you glanced in mock annoyance at number nineteen, who just chewed back a smile, taking his seat on the bench.

Brady frowned, looking between them. "What? I don't get it."

The assistant coach then shoved through the door, clapping loudly. "Alright, let's go, Panthers. Warm-ups start in three. Get your asses moving."

The whole room shifted at once as laces tightened and jerseys tugged down in practiced rhythm. The easy banter simmered into focus, the shift so fast it made your pulse catch.

Noah was the last to stand, stick twirling once in his inked hand as he caught your eye, that smirk still tugging. "Come on, beautiful. I wanna hear you in the stands...I need you to help me win."

Before you could answer, he leaned in quick, pressing his mouth to yours in the briefest kiss; fast enough the others wouldn't clock it, but enough to leave you breathless.

"Good luck charm," he murmured with a shrug, then slung his stick over his shoulder and strode out.

You tugged Brady along, sinking into the bleachers just as Noah's number cut clean down the ice. He was loose and casual, though every line of him hummed with purpose.

The word almost fit when Noah and half the team dropped into deep lunges, sticks braced against the ice. His thighs stretched wide, ink flashing under rolled jerseys. Your mouth went dry.

Brady squinted. "Are they seriously dancing right now?"

"They're stretches," you hissed. "NHL players do it all the time."

Down on the ice, Folio's knees bounced in a ridiculous wiggle until Ruffilo whacked his stick. "Quit trying to twerk, man. Scouts are watching."

"Flexible hips, flexible player," Folio shot back.

You snorted into your sleeve, but Noah caught it. Like he couldn't stand your attention anywhere else, he coasted backward across center ice, sinking deliberately into another lunge; too smooth to be innocent. Just for you.

Then the whistle shrieked. Noah stood and tapped his stick once, smirk gone, with his shoulders squared.

Suddenly, it wasn't about the lunge, or the smiles, or even the kiss in the locker room. It was about this: the weight of expectation, the final game, and the whole rink watching.

The arena buzzed louder, stomps rattling the bleachers as the scouts' pens scratched from the balcony above.

You could feel Brady bouncing back into the seat beside you, hands still damp from soap but fists pumping with energy. "Okay. Okay, this is it."

The whistle blew again, and the puck dropped.

It clattered against the ice, sticks slamming as the players surged forward. The noise was instant, loud enough to rattle in your chest as you sat on the edge of your seat.

Noah didn't ease into it; he immediately threw his shoulder into the first winger that touched him, the glass vibrating from the impact. The crowd roared, stomping the bleachers.

"Holy crap!" Brady shouted, practically bouncing out of his seat. "Flattened pancake mode!"

You almost laughed, but Noah was already gone, blade carving the ice as he tracked the puck. He didn't need to score to make an impression; he was controlled, setting the tone and grinding the other team down until the end of his shift.

By the second period, the Panthers struck first. It was a quick cycle, Noah pinning a defenseman with sheer force, and Folio burying the rebound. The horn screamed, causing the bench of watchers and players to erupt, but Noah barely raised his arms. He tapped Folio's helmet, already gliding back to the center for faceoff.

It was almost mesmerizing, watching the way he crouched low at the dot, hunched over with his stick braced, glare locked on the opponent across from him. He wasn't the cocky, teasing player you knew. Noah was locked in, ruthless and devoted to the win.

The game built in flashes after that: a brutal faceoff win, a backcheck breaking up a chance, Jolly's shot clanging off the post. Shift after shift, the Panthers suffocated their opponents.

By the time the third period ticked down, the lead was razor-thin. The Panthers were up with a one-goal advantage, and the other team gambled everything, choosing to pull their goalie in place for an extra attacker. Six skaters swarmed the boys, the crowd's roar climbing while scouts scribbled in frantic bursts behind you.

With a quick slap, the puck whipped across the blue line toward the Panthers' end. Players shoved each other in chaotic bursts as their sticks hacked the ice, but in a moment, Noah pushed himself free, puck in his control.

Your heart hammered as his strides devoured the world in a clean, powerful glide; the empty net waiting for him ahead.

Brady leaned toward you, vibrating in his seat as he clung to your arm so tight it hurt. "Oh my god! Noah!" he screamed like Noah could hear him, shaking you hard enough to throw your body sideways. "The defender is nowhere- he's gonna-"

And he did. With the flick of his wrists, the puck sailed dead center, snapping the back of the mesh so hard it flew back out again.

Brady erupted, his jump yanking you sideways. Skittles spilled out of his pocket, rocketing to the floor with a series of tinks.

You wrapped an arm tight around your brother, laughing just as hard. The Panthers swarmed Noah in a dogpile of jerseys and shouts, relishing in their victory.

Brady gasped mid-cheer, eyes darting down. "My Skittles!" Then he whipped his head up again, voice cracking as he pumped both fists. "Never mind! He freaking did it! No one could even touch him!"

He spun toward you, grin splitting his face, jabbing at the ice. "And that's your boyfriend now!"

Heat flamed up your cheeks, crawling all the way to your ears.

On the ice, Noah finally broke free of the pile, helmet crooked. His eyes found you like you were the only one in the arena, and his grin split wide, reckless and boyish.

Without hesitation, he ripped off his gloves, helmet bouncing across the sheet, mouthguard shoved into his shorts. He didn't care about anything else; he was already sliding toward you.

Your feet carried you forward before you thought. The crowd's roar doubled, players hollering as he closed in, chest heaving, eyes burning into yours.

'Come here,' he mouthed.

Then he slammed into the barrier, hands braced on either side of your ribs, and hauled you over like you weighed nothing. The second your shoes hit the ice, his mouth crashed to yours, unapologetic and scorching.

Noise exploded all around, but it blurred into static as he kissed you. All you could feel was Noah, holding you like he had just won more than the game itself.

Your fingers clung to the back of his jersey, grazing the stitched letters of his name. You memorized the press of his tongue and the graze of his teeth, breath pulling from your lungs as he squeezed you tighter into his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, grin breathless. "You feel better than winning," he whispered.

Laughing against Noah's lips, you watched him with admiration. "You deserved that win. I'm proud of you."

That undid him, his cheeks flushing through a faltering smirk, breath catching. "Don't say that," he rasped. "Not here. You'll kill me."

The glass rattled with Folio's howl: "GET A ROOM!"

Ruffilo and Matt pounded their sticks, Jolly cupping his hands. "Save it for later, lovebirds!"

You flipped them off over Noah's shoulder, earning another roar.

And then Brady shrieked, horrified, his hood yanked over his head. "DISGUSTING! Stop spreading your cooties!"

Noah only ducked his head, burying his red ears against your temple, chuckling low as he muttered, "Let 'em chirp. I'm not letting you out of my arms anyway."

Eventually, the refs shooed you both toward the bench, and Noah pressed one last quick kiss to your hair before letting you slip back over the boards. He jogged down the tunnel with the others, the sound of their voices echoing long after they disappeared.

It wasn't long before the boys spilled into the corridor with a mix of beanies and ballcaps over their heads, faces still pink from the rush of the win.

Noah walked out beside Matt, his hockey bag dragging on wheels behind him, and you watched as his eyes darted to you for a moment, before the sound of his name being called to a group of men standing next to the bleachers stole his attention.

You slowed, holding Brady back just enough to catch the way they spoke in low tones.

"Hell of a game," the scout said firmly, clapping Noah's shoulder. "We'll be in touch. Expect a call soon."

Noah's throat worked like he was trying not to smile too wide, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He nodded once as he reached out for the man's hand again. "Thank you, sir. I look forward to it."

The scout gave one last nod, clipboard in hand and left Noah standing frozen in the buzz of his teammates. He licked his lips before they parted wide, radiant before chewing down on them.

Matt slammed an arm around his neck, dragging him into the middle of the group. "Atta boy! Drinks on Noah tonight!"

"Pool party!" Folio howled, already tossing his cap in the air.

"Let's gooooo!" Jolly bellowed, pounding on his back.

Brady looked up at you, awe growing in his eyes. "Wait, would that mean WHL? And then maybe NHL?"

But Noah was still looking at you, beaming in the middle of the chaos.

+

The lobby was quiet until the boys stormed through, Folio the loudest, arm slung over Jolly. "Pool's still open! Victory laps incoming!"

"Victory bellyflops, you mean," Matt muttered, grinning.

Ruffilo placed an arm around Brady. "You comin', lil dude? We'll show you how pros cannonball."

Brady lit up. "Heck yes!"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Folio tossed a towel over his shoulder. "Relax, mom. He's an honorary Panther tonight."

Noah finally shook free of Matt's chokehold, tugging his cap low. When his gaze found you, his lip curled in certainty. "Come on, princess. Don't make me celebrate without you."

The elevator was chaos as Ruffilo and Jolly bickered over cannonball form, Brady bragging about his "secret splash technique." Noah stayed pressed at your side, hand firm at your waist in claim.

By the time they burst into the pool room, shirts were flying. Matt shoved Jolly into the deep end, Brady howling with laughter before cannonballing in himself. Folio slid in after him, grinning.

"Bellyflops are a canon event!"

You stayed perched on a chair, shaking your head. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on your circus."

Noah dropped beside you, knees brushing yours briefly. His smile was small and tired, yet warm. For a moment, you just watched the chaos before you.

"Crazy thing is," he said softly, knuckles brushing yours, "this might be the last time we all get to do this together."

You slipped your hand over his under the lip of the chair. His fingers twitched, then tightened around yours.

He sucked in a breath, refusing to look in your direction as he spoke lowly. "You have no idea how hard it is not to drag you upstairs right now."

Your chest tightened, and a mix of laughs carried from the water. Noah's jaw worked, then he called over, "Matt."

The blonde cocked his head to the side, paddling closer. "What?"

"Keep an eye on the kid," Noah said, nodding towards your brother. "Make sure he gets back to your room if we aren't here in time."

Matt smirked, giving a mock salute. "Ahhh." He wiggled his brows, "Go do your thing, lover boy. I got him."

Satisfied, Noah stood, tugging you up with him, his hand locked with yours. "He's got his boys, he's got mine. He's fine." His eyes burned into yours. "But I need you."

And this time, he didn't wait for your answer.

He hauled you toward the door, strides long, your arm straining to keep up as laughter and splashing echoed behind. The heavy pool door slid shut, cutting the noise to a muffled hum.

Noah pulled you behind him quickly, and you hurried your footsteps, trying to match his.

"You're walking so fast," you whispered breathless, half-laughing as you stumbled to keep up with his pace.

Noah shot you a look over his shoulder, his jaw clenched with impatience. "What, did you want me to fuck you here in the hallway then? Let everyone watch?"

Your breath caught, the words sparking hot in your chest. "No-"

"Then keep up." His grip crushed yours tighter, dragging you down the corridor with haste.

The carpet blurred under your feet as he dragged you down the hall. You fumbled with the keycard, barely slipping it into the slot before Noah's hand shot past your shoulder. He snatched the Do Not Disturb sign, slapped it onto the knob, then shoved the door shut with his sneaker. The deadbolt and latch clicked into place, sealing you both inside.

For a beat, the silence pressed heavily; just your ragged breathing and his low rasp dancing between you. Then he ripped his cap off, tossing it aside as he stalked toward you with a single-minded authority that made your stomach flip. Noah's fingers hooked into your waistband, dragging you until the backs of your legs hit the bed.

Without hesitating, he shoved you down hard enough to steal the air from your lungs.

"You know what I've been thinking about since dinner?" His voice was shredded, fingers already at your button, snapping it open before dragging your zipper down. "Finally shoving my cock inside you tonight."

The blunt filth of it sparked heat straight between your legs. You grinned up at him as you shoved your jeans down yourself, peeling your shirt over your head. As he stood before the bed, he didn't lean down to kiss you; he just loomed, eyes locked on yours through the steady heave of his chest.

"I've been holding back all weekend." His hand slid lower, curling into your thong before snapping the band against your hip. "You're not fucking ready for what I'm about to do to you."

He grabbed your wrists, dragging them to the hem of his shirt, enticing you to tug the fabric.

"Take it off."

You peeled it slowly, inch by inch, as ink and muscle revealed, your throat catching until the fabric hit the floor.

"I love that you listen so well." His voice dropped to a murmur as he guided your hands lower. His sweats hung dangerously low, and he pressed your palms against him, forcing you to feel the hardness of him waiting for you.

Noah held your hand in place, grinding into it, a breathy laugh spilling from his throat as you stroked him through the fabric. Your pulse shook as you shoved his waistband down, boxers with it, cock springing free.

Noah caught your chin, forcing your gaze up when it wanted to drop. His mouth curled into something sinful.

"Get me nice and wet," his thumb brushed your jaw almost tenderly while his arousal twitched in front of you. "Can you do that for me, baby?"

You nodded before you could think, sliding down onto your stomach, nearly hanging over the bed.

His hand guided yours at first, showing you how to wrap around him, palm dragging from base to tip until slick smeared your fingers. His head tipped back, veins straining in his neck.

"That's it. Fuck, just like that. Make me messy."

Working him steadily, his heat was heavy in your hand, before you leaned in with your tongue. Flattening it against his length, you licked him slowly, savouring the way his smile cracked through his groan. His cock gleamed in the dim light with every pass, wet and wanting under your mouth.

"Perfect," Noah gritted, brows drawn as he ground the length of himself against you. The swollen head pressed into your clit until your back arched.

Every thrust dragged the soaked fabric over your nerves, unbearable friction leaving you shaking. However, his hand pinned your hips when you tried to buck forward.

"Not yet," he laughed, slow and merciless. "You'll come when I want you to."

Your thighs trembled, moaning in protest. He hooked the band of your panties taut, pulling it snug between your folds as he rubbed along the stretched fabric. The blunt head caught your desire again and again until your face contorted in pleasure.

"That's it," he praised, eyes locked on your face. "Soaking through for me. You love it, don't you? My cock ruining your pretty little panties?"

He leaned down, spit glistening as it hit your cunt, slicking the lace even wetter. Your nails bit crescents into your thighs as you held yourself open, offering everything. When he rolled his tip just right, your body broke; hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm ripped through you.

"Fuck yes," Noah groaned, shoving the thong aside at last. Your release coated his cock as he dragged the head through your folds, smearing himself in your mess.

"And I didn't even fuck you yet." His laugh was half awe and mockery at how easily you fell apart for him.

Then, with a growl, he lined up and drove forward, the stretch of him instant. The first push of his body stole the air from your lungs, before he drove deeper, filling you.

"Jesus Christ, Noah." You gasped, clinging to the sheets, then his arms, then anything you could reach as he stayed buried inside you.

"Relax," he stuttered, broken, hips flush against yours. Sweat beaded at his temple, abs pulled taut as he forced himself to hold still. "You feel like you were made for me. My cock fits so perfectly inside your pussy."

He braced above you, gasping and pulling back slowly before slamming forward, the sound of your bodies colliding obscene in the quiet hotel room.

The rhythm he built came fast and needy, every thrust deep enough to rattle the mattress. His teeth clenched, head bowed, and eyes locked on the way he split you open, mesmerized by the glossy stretch around him.

"Look at that," Noah groaned, chuckling while driving harder. "Taking me so deep...God, you're swallowing me whole."

His thumb dug into your hip, dragging you onto him with each thrust until your thighs quivered, wet slaps echoing through the air.

You reached for his face, trying to anchor him, but his gaze stayed glued below, lips parted in desperation.

"You have the most perfect pussy," he panted, hips stuttering as he revelled in the sight of you.

As your hand slid between your thighs to chase the edge, your walls tightened around his body. "How do you feel so good? I can't-"

"Yes, you can." His eyes finally snapped up, latching onto yours through molten lust. "You're gonna come for me. Right on my cock because I need to see you cream around me, Y/N. Right fucking now."

Noah's hand left your hip, sliding up your torso until his fingers curled around your throat. He didn't squeeze; he just pressed you down, claiming you and forcing your eyes to stay locked on him.

"Eyes on me," Noah demanded, slamming deeper, his cock dragging against every nerve. "I want to watch you break while I'm inside you."

A choked laugh caught your lips while your body shook under the relentless thrusts and weight of his hand. He pinned you to the bed, the feeling of his hands devouring you and pushing your climax. The release snapped suddenly and brutally, your pussy clenching tight.

"Fuck yes," he growled, eyes burning into yours as you shattered beneath him. "That's my girl. My perfect fucking girl."

A cry tore free despite his hand around your throat, body shaking with the force of it. But Noah didn't slow; if anything, your orgasm spurred him on, thrusts growing frantic while chasing the squeeze of you milking him.

Overstimulation burned through you, thighs trying to snap shut, but his grip at your throat pinned you wide open.

"I told you you weren't ready." He tossed you a wicked grin, hair falling wildly over his eyes. "And I'm still not done with you."

He released your throat only to flip you onto your stomach, dragging you up by the thighs and slamming back into you with a guttural growl. The sudden depth made you cry out, muffled against the pillow as he raked his fingers down your spine, gripping your ass and kneading the skin roughly.

Noah groaned, leaning until his chest was heavy across your back, his arm looping under your throat, hauling you upright. The chokehold pinned you to him while he drove in from behind, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. "You're mine, you hear me? Mine."

"Make me yours fully, Noah," you gasped, clutching his forearm while your head fell back onto his shoulder. When your legs buckled, he caught you, flipping you onto your back again in one brutal motion.

He pulled out quickly, crawling over you, catching your lips in a filthy kiss as he hauled you onto his lap, forcing you down on his cock.

Straddling him, you sank slowly, breath shuddering as your hands spread across the ink of his chest. His grip locked on your hips instantly, grinding you harder, making you feel every inch.

"God, you look so pretty up there," he muttered through bared teeth, running his hands up your body until gripping your chest, squeezing your skin.

You lifted in a shaky rhythm, riding him as best you could through your aching body, but it wasn't enough, and Noah's patience snapped. With a guttural sound, he thrust upward, bouncing you in his lap with violent precision.

"Pathetic," he scoffed, dragging you down harder. "You teased me all weekend and thought you could just take your time? That's not how this works." His hand caught the back of your neck, yanking you down and into another kiss, tongue owning yours.

"Then prove to me it's been worth the wait," you whispered against his lips.

His body snapped harder, breaking you into whimpers as he answered with action instead of words. Your nails dug into his shoulders, head tipping back in a plea. "Noah, please cum for me. I need it."

His exhale ripped out like you knocked the air from his chest, his pace faltering before coming back even more violent. His teeth grazed your jaw, trailing down your throat before landing on your collarbone.

"You. Don't. Get. It." Each word followed a thrust. "I'm not stopping till you can't say my name without crying. You want me to cum? Beg louder, princess."

Your voice cracked. "Noah, please. Please, I'm begging...I can't, I need-."

"That's it," he snarled, mouth hot against your neck, sucking until you knew he would leave a mark. His pace turned punishing, every snap of his hips so deep the world spun. His arms locked you to his chest, hand tangled at the back of your head, forcing you through another orgasm that ripped you apart.

You shook around him, gasping his name like a prayer.

"Again," he growled, tongue circling your pulse as he hid in the crook of your neck. "Beg me like you mean it. I'll paint you full if you beg loud enough, pretty girl."

The name wrecked you, dragging another climax from your body. Your thighs trembled where they straddled him, desire clenching so hard his rhythm faltered.

You sobbed his name, giving Noah exactly what he wanted as your limbs gave way.

"Not done," he rasped, hauling your mouth to his before flipping you onto your side, still buried deep. His chest pressed to your back, breath ragged at your shoulder, while spooning you. "You're giving me every goddamn second before I lose you."

His arm clamped around your middle, holding you fused together as he trembled. Seconds later, his body stuttered, groaning muffled against your neck as he finally spilled inside you, flooding you full.

Even when you shifted, he wouldn't let go; still grunting through the aftershock, arms wrapped around you in claim.

The room hushed to nothing but tangled breaths and twisted sheets. Sweat slicked your skin where it met his, and his fingers brushed yours blindly, locking your hands together in the mess of it all.

When Noah finally eased, he pressed a few reverent kisses along your shoulder, soft.

"Please don't go," you whispered, pressing back into him.

His reply broke against your skin. "I don't want this night to end."

Tears burned, but you whispered back anyway. "Then we'll just keep replaying it... until even the silence remembers us."

+

Somehow, it felt harder to get ready in the morning. Brady shoved clothes into his duffel with no hesitation, muttering about finally being rid of hotel food.

But you couldn't even bring yourself to put your shoes on at the door, knowing that once you did, things were really over. The laces hung loose between your fingers as you sat on the bed, the sheets still tangled and smelling faintly of him.

Brady zipped his bag and dragged it across the floor. "You ready yet?"

You swallowed, forcing your hands to move; threading each lace, the pull tightening the goodbye.

The hallway felt cruel in its quiet, the hum of the vending machine suddenly too loud. Every step toward the elevator pressed like a countdown. When you made it to the lobby, you chewed back the lump that grew in your throat.

Noah sat in the chair by the fireplace, that stupid, insufferable beanie in place, elbows braced on his knees. His eyes lifted the second you stepped out of the elevator, locking onto yours with a weight that stopped you mid-step.

For a beat, you couldn’t breathe, and then he rose through your hesitation.

This was the first time he didn’t smile when seeing you.

Brady blinked between you both, shoulders stiff. "I'll...uh...go grab a muffin," he mumbled, bolting toward the buffet without waiting for a reply.

The moment your brother's back turned, Noah stepped forward and closed the space. His hand immediately found yours, squeezing tight enough that your fingers ached. He smelled like soap and cologne. Beneath it lingered the ghost of last night, and everything you both weren't ready to let go of.

"Hey," he whispered. "Guess this is it."

Your throat closed, glancing away for a moment, clawing at the sleeves of your sweater. "I hate that it is."

For the first time since you had met him, he looked unsure. His eyes traced your face like he was trying to memorize it, pupils wide and dark.

"I don't want you to think..." He shook his head, exhaling hard. "Last night wasn't just... it wasn't just a game high, or me being reckless. This whole weekend wasn't that. You know that, right?"

"I know." Your chest burned. "It was real."

His mouth twitched, then he stepped forward, cupping your face. The kiss he gave you wasn’t like the others. It was soft and desperate; a kind of longing you never tasted before.

His thumb brushed your cheekbone, fingers shaking, before he pulled you into his chest. His arms locked tight around you, and you clutched the back of his hoodie, waiting to hold him there forever.

"I'll miss you." You mumbled into him.

His chin dipped, lips brushing the crown of your head. "I'm already missing you."

When he pulled back, his hands lingered on your cheeks, unwilling to let go.

"Seriously? In front of the muffins?!" Brady shouted from behind you.

The two of you laughed briefly, and then Noah drew one last breath, eyes refusing to leave yours.

"I'll find you.”

His hands fell away, shoulders squared, and he bent down to sling his hockey bag over his shoulder. You felt it in your chest as he turned toward the lobby doors, the ache of finality hollowing your chest.

Noah made it all of three steps before pausing, head tipping as he turned back around.

With a tight smile pulling at your lips, you watched as the sadness still lingered on his features, but so did something else. His brow lifted with that familiar quizzical tilt, and then that signature agonizing, annoying smirk.

He shrugged lightly, clicking his tongue as he hitched his bag higher on one shoulder, the other hand shoved into his pocket.

"Hey. By the way..." He was quiet, teasing yet soft. "I've got this friend who thinks you're pretty cute. Mind if I get your number for him?"

Your laugh cracked, rolling your eyes as you pulled out your phone with a shake of your head. "God, you're ridiculous."

And the grin that spread across his face was the same one that started it all.

Thank you so so so much for reading. I appreciate you all immensely, and am grateful for the reblogs, comments, and love. Perhaps an epilogue would be fun. ☺️

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[sorrowsofsilence]

Me neither 😭 this was so fun

biscuit • n.s || chpt. seven

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 8.3k || read time: ~39 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dom!noah (homie is a little needy and rough ok), orgasm denial, spitting, nicknames (my girl, princess), male and female orgasm, handjob / bj (its their last night dudes, things be... intense :)

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: damn... and just like that, this series is over. I feel sad lol. I think thats why this chapters really long; bc I just kept having things I wanted to put in, and tie it back to the whole fun weekend vibes. Thank you for all the love on this one; it really was a literal dream to write, and this filled my cup immensely. It was just so fun to live through; and I hope you enjoy this final chapter <3 Muah muah (I re-wrote this quite a bit, which is also why it took me longer to get out; but with that being said atm it’s not fully proof read, bc its almost 3am lol and I don't wanna delay sharing any longer!!)

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

The truck was still fogged when Noah finally shoved his sweats back into place, chest heaving.

Neither of you spoke at first, the silence charged, your breathing loud in the cab. Then he dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before leaning over to kiss you once more, hard and quick, then reaching towards the door handle.

Cold air rushed in as you both stepped out. Your legs wobbled a little, but Noah’s hand immediately found the small of your back. The way his thumb twitched, pressing too firmly against your spine, made you shiver, as though that little action was much more intimate compared to what happened minutes prior.

“You ready?” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile. This was a big game for him, and all the Panthers.

“Yeah,” he said, though his voice rasped rough. Then, with a crooked smirk, “Especially with that good luck you gave me.”

Before you could roll your eyes, the rink doors slid open and Jolly’s voice cut across the lot.

“Noah! Quit making out with your girlfriend and get your ass inside!”

Heat shot up your neck, and you couldn’t even fire up a response before Brady piped up behind him, almost distraught.

“Where were you? You abandoned me!”

You stiffened, but Noah didn’t even blink. He flashed Brady that easy grin that made your knees weak. “Getting focused, dude. No stress, I’m sure you were in good hands.”

Jolly raised both his brows, licking his lips before giving your brother a mischievous look. “The kid was raiding the vending machine and now has three bags of Skittles.” His eyes then darted to you, giving you a mock-sympathetic shrug. “Good luck with the sugar rush later. I stopped him before he could shake out a fourth bag.”

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to tell her.” Brady crossed his arms, then glared at you, unconvinced. “Focused looks a lot like sneaking around. I’ll get you grounded.”

“Adults don’t get grounded, Brade.” You shoved his shoulder as the four of you head inside, footsteps muffled by the black rubber floor.

Noah only chuckled, shaking his head like Brady was a teammate giving him lip. “We gotta change as warmup starts in ten. Wanna see what a fun locker room’s like before a final?”

Your brother blinked, taken aback. “You mean the old man league locker room? All you guys do is reek and talk about girls.”

“Not wrong,” Jolly said, slapping his palm against the cinderblock wall for emphasis. “Mostly fart jokes and playlists, though. You’ll love it.”

Brady wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Noah leaned down, his breath brushing your ear. “Better than how I’ll smell after three periods, trust me.”

You shoved him lightly in the chest as you reached the locker room, causing him to stagger back with a playful sway. “Oh, c’mon. Double gross.”

“At least he showers,” Jolly said, throwing a thumb back while his other hand pressed the tall grey door.

The sound hit before you even stepped inside, Folio’s laugh carrying over a bass-heavy speaker thumping EDM.

Brady’s eyes widened instantly, the nerves on his face melting into awe. “Holy crap. We aren’t even allowed to play music in ours. This is sick.”

Matt, Folio, and Jolly were already scattered through the room, half-dressed, bantering loud enough to rattle the walls.

“Girl incoming!” Jolly yelled, “Make sure everyone’s got pants!”

Multiple pairs of eyes darted toward you and Brady with a smirk, lacing up their skates.

“There he is!” Folio crowed from the corner, pointing his shin pads like a weapon. “Bro finally shows up. What were you doing, braiding her hair?”

Ruffilo snorted, tugging on his pads. “Nah, look at him. Guy’s glowing.”

“Put a shirt on before you blind me,” Noah said with the roll of his eyes, bending down and unzipping his bag.

“Hey!” Matt pulled his jersey over his pads, the white number ten reflecting against the bright lights in the room. “We’re just curious, y’know.” His eyes then danced toward you, glinting with a knowing that made your face warm.

Noah just rolled his shoulders, smirk sharp as he dug around for his tape. “You clowns worried about me, or about the scoreboard?”

The room cracked up, whistles and howls bouncing off the walls, while Folio elbowed Ruffilo, whispering, “Hm. I bet it was both.”

Brady lingered just inside the doorway, eyes darting around like he’d stepped into another universe. You could practically feel his heartbeat hammering from here.

Matt tipped his chin toward him. “What’s the kid staring at? Never seen a locker room before? Don’t you change in here, too?”

“We aren’t allowed to touch the aux,” Brady blurted, voice louder than he meant. “This is insane. It’s actually fun, like you guys are cool.”

Folio barked a laugh, crushing his can of redbull against his thigh. “First lesson, little man. Locker room music sets the win. No good playlist, no good game.”

Ruffilo leaned over with mock solemnity. “Second lesson? Superstition. Everybody’s got one.”

“Like… lucky socks?” Brady asked, intrigued with the wisdom he felt they were about to instil upon him.

“Lucky socks, lucky tape, lucky song, lucky underwear,” Ruffilo rattled off, pointing at each of the boys as though they were exhibits. “We don’t mess with rituals before finals.”

Matt groaned. “Oh God, here we go.”

Folio wagged his finger. “Laugh all you want, Matty Baby, but I’ve eaten the same gas station muffin before every playoff game since Bantams. Works every damn time.”

The whole room groaned. “That explains so much,” Ruffilo muttered. “No wonder you have IBS.”

With a glare, then a tight-lipped nod, Folio agreed.

Jolly laughed, rolling his eyes before lifting his jersey and pads to reveal an insanely worn-out black t-shirt. “I’ve worn this shirt for three years. Haven’t washed it.”

Brady recoiled instantly, glancing at you with a grimace. “That’s…dude, that’s gross!”

“Gross, but undefeated,” Jolly shot back, patting the rank fabric proudly. “Three seasons, zero losses in elimination games.”

Matt gagged, tossing a towel over his head. “Pretty sure the shirt’s playing harder than you are.”

Ruffilo leaned forward, grinning as he slid his team socks over his shin pads. “What about you, rookie? Got any rituals?”

Brady froze, shoulders stiff as every head in the room turned. “Uh…I um…I guess I eat a granola bar before every game?”

“Lame,” Folio declared, squirting water from his green Gatorade bottle into his mouth, “You need something epic, little bro.”

“Says the one that eats a gas station muffin?” Brady shot back.

The room yelled at Brady’s comeback, even the other teammates, as Ruffilo almost choked on his protein bar. “Kid’s already roasting you, Folio. Better watch your throne.”

“Yeah, well,” Folio grumbled, nodding lazily at Brady, “at least my muffin’s got history. Granola bars are for figure skaters.”

Even Jolly snorted, shaking his head. “God, he’s already one of us.”

Matt leaned back against his stall, smirking. “Don’t let it get to your head, rookie. You still gotta pick a ritual that doesn’t make you sound like a middle schooler.”

Brady turned, eyes flicking to Noah like he wanted backup. “Ok, well, what about you, then? What’s yours?”

The noise dimmed instantly, the whole room pivoting like they’d been waiting for the question. Noah didn’t even pause as he tossed Brady his tape, who caught it with a fumble of fingers.

“Me?” The brunette’s eyes lifted, finding yours for a heartbeat too long, before glancing at the ground with a smile. “My good luck’s covered. Nothing crazy.”

The eruption was instant with Jolly’s howl of laughter, and Matt pounding his stick against the floor.

Ruffilo started barking, throwing his glove at Folio, who barked back, throwing the fabric to the ground. “What a D-O-G DAWG!”

A rush of heat washed over your cheeks and ears, biting the inside of your cheek as you glanced in mock annoyance at number nineteen, who just chewed back a smile, taking his seat on the bench.

Brady frowned, looking between them. “What? I don’t get it.”

"Don't worry about it, champ," Noah said smoothly, tucking his stick under his arm with a grin. "Granola’s working for you, don’t worry about me.”

Brady’s brows furrowed deeper, like he was about to press the issue, but Jolly clapped him on the back. “Every guy’s got his own thing. Noah doesn’t really have one.”

“Yeah,” Folio added, slinging his jersey over his shoulder pads. “Some just get… luckier than others. Part of the game.”

The laughter sparked again, whistles bouncing off the cement walls. You groaned, pressing your sleeve over your burning face.

“God, you’re all children,” you muttered, shaking your head.

The assistant coach then shoved through the door, clapping loudly. “Alright, let’s go, Panthers. Warm-ups start in three. Get your asses moving.”

The whole room shifted at once as laces tightened and jerseys tugged down in practiced rhythm. The easy banter simmered into focus, the shift so fast it made your pulse catch.

Noah was the last to stand, stick twirling once in his inked hand as he caught your eye, that smirk still tugging. “Come on, beautiful. I wanna hear you in the stands…I need you to help me win.”

Before you could answer, he leaned in quick, pressing his mouth to yours in the briefest kiss; fast enough the others wouldn’t clock it, but enough to leave you breathless.

When he pulled back, his lips curved, wicked. “Good luck charm,” he murmured with a shrug, walking backwards as he slung his stick over his shoulder and strode out the door.

Leaving the locker room, you tugged your brother up into the stands, sinking into the bleachers just as Noah’s number cut clean down the ice. He was loose and casual, though every line of him hummed with purpose.

“Ugh,” Brady muttered, reaching into his pocket and crunching into one of his many bags of Skittles. “Why do they all have to pose before the game?”

The word pose was generous because when Noah and half the team dropped into deep lunges with their sticks braced against the ice, it did look deliberate. His thighs stretched wide, ink peeking under his rolled sleeves as he leaned low, rocking back slowly before switching sides.

Your mouth went dry.

Brady squinted. “Are they seriously… dancing right now? What the heck, why didn’t they do this last game?”

“They’re stretches,” you hissed, “NHL players do it all the time.”

Noah’s gaze flicked up, catching you watching. His smirk was quick, then he dipped lower into the lunge, like he knew exactly what he was doing. When he rose, rolling his arms back with an easy swing of his stick, you couldn’t help but think that it was less about loosening his muscles and more about winding you tighter.

Brady groaned, shoving his hand over his face, then jerked back with wide eyes. “Ugh! My fingers are sticky! This is the most cursed pre-game routine ever.”

“That’s called karma for scamming the vending machine,” you muttered, kicking his foot as you shook the thoughts of Noah away.

He kicked your ankle harder, earning a scowl from you.

“It doesn’t have feelings,” he said defensively, then licked his fingertips.

You recoiled instantly, nose wrinkling. “Bro. Go wash your hands, that’s foul.”

Pushing your brother off the bleacher so he would go wash up, your gaze flicked to Folio just in time to catch the end of some odd leg wiggles, his knees bouncing in and out while he leaned against the boards like he was auditioning for the world’s worst dance video.

Ruffilo skated past and whacked Folio’s stick with his own. You were close enough to hear his: “Quit trying to twerk on the blue line, man. Scouts are watching.”

Folio grinned widely, unbothered. “Hey, flexible hips make a flexible player.”

You tried to hide your laugh behind your sleeve, but Noah noticed it anyway. As though he hated your attention being anywhere else, he coasted backwards across center ice, never breaking eye contact.

With one slow roll of his hips, he sank into another lunge; lower this time with his legs spread wide, stick braced casually across his thighs. The movement was too smooth and controlled to be innocent. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary, head tipping just enough to make sure you saw.

Then he pushed upright in a single flex, stick flicking lazily in his hands like he hadn’t just made your pulse trip over itself.

“Oh fuck off,” you muttered under your breath, dragging your eyes back to the boards like you hadn’t just been caught drooling.

The whistle shrieked, snapping through the air. Noah tapped his stick once against the ice, teeth tugging, then skated to his line. The joking expression melted off his face as fast as the echo faded; his shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed in focus.

And suddenly it wasn’t about the lunge or the smiles, or even the kiss in his truck. It was about this: the weight of expectation, the final game, and Noah with the puck on his stick, the whole rink watching.

The arena buzzed louder, stomps rattling the bleachers as scouts’ pens scratched from the balcony above.

You could feel Brady bouncing back into the seat beside you, hands still damp from soap but fists pumping with energy. “Okay. Okay, this is it.”

The whistle blew again, and the puck dropped.

It clattered against the ice, sticks slamming as the players surged forward. The noise was instant, loud enough to rattle in your chest as you sat on the edge of your seat.

Noah didn’t ease into it; he immediately threw his shoulder into the first winger that touched him, the glass vibrating from the impact. The crowd roared, stomping the bleachers.

“Holy crap!” Brady shouted, practically bouncing out of his seat. “Flattened pancake mode!”

You almost laughed, but Noah was already gone, blade carving the ice as he tracked the puck. He didn’t need to score to make an impression; he was controlled, setting the tone and grinding the other team down until the end of his shift.

By second period, the Panthers struck first. It was a quick cycle, Noah pinning a defenseman with sheer force, and Folio burying the rebound. The horn screamed, causing the bench of watchers and players to erupt, but Noah barely raised his arms. He tapped Folio’s helmet, already gliding back to the center for faceoff. He meant business.

Your brother was shouting like he had scored the goal himself, though through the noise, you couldn’t drag your eyes off Noah’s face.

It was almost mesmerizing, watching the way he crouched low at the dot, hunched over with his stick braced, glare locked on the opponent across from him. He wasn’t the cocky, teasing player you knew. He was locked in, ruthless and devoted to the win.

The game built in flashes after that, a brutal faceoff win where he snapped the puck back like it was nothing, a pass that threaded through two defenders onto Jolly’s stick, a backcheck that broke up what could have been a breakaway goal.

Matt slipped into the zone with speed, slicing tight between the boards and the net before ripping a shot that forced the goalie sprawling. Ruffilo was already there, crashing the crease, digging his stick in for the rebound until the puck popped loose. Jolly swooped in behind him, smacking the puck back on net, only for it to ring off the post with a metallic clang.

The boys regrouped instantly, swarming back in hive-mind. Folio barked a call from the side, his stick raised, and Noah feathered a pass out to him without even looking. Jolly hammered the puck with a slapshot that ricocheted wide, but Matt was quick to corralling it along the boards before tossing it back toward their own ned. Ruffilo muscled into his man, shoving him off balance just enough to clear a lane.

They were relentless. Shift after shift, the Panthers pinned their opponents onto their side, cycling and wearing them down. You could feel the tension building, the pressure suffocating as the screams of the crowd fed off every hit and blocked shot.

By the time the third period ticked down, the lead was razor-thin. The Panthers were up with a one-goal advantage, and the other team gambled everything, choosing to pull their goalie in place for an extra attacker. Six skaters swarmed the boys, the crowd’s roar climbing while scouts scribbled in frantic bursts behind you.

With a quick slap, the puck whipped across the blue line toward the Panthers’ end. A shot cracked off the bar, the disc gliding out into a scramble of bodies. Player’s shoved eachother in chaotic bursts as their sticks hacked the ice; but in a moment, Noah pushed himself free, puck in his control.

Your heart hammered as his strides devoured the world in a clean, powerful glide; the empty net waiting for him ahead.

Brady leaned toward you, vibrating in his seat as he clung to your arm so tight it hurt. “Oh my god! Noah!” he screamed like Noah could hear him, shaking you hard enough to throw your body sideways. “The defensmen is no where- he’s gonna-”

And he did. With the flick of his wrists, the puck sailed dead center, snapping the back of the mesh so hard it flew back out again.

Brady clung to your jacket, jumping so high he nearly dragged you off balance, his laughter wild and unrestrained. Skittles spilled out of his pocket, rocketing to the floor with a series of tinks against the metal.

You wrapped an arm tight around him, laughing just as hard, your ears ringing with the boom of the others on the benched behind you. Sticks scattered across the ice as the Panthers swarmed Noah, jumping and crashing into him in a dogpile of jerseys and shouts.

Your brother gasped mid-shout, eyes darting down. “My skittles!”

But then he whipped his head back up, voice cracking as he pumped both fists in the air. “Never mind! He did it, he freaking did it! Did you see how clean that was? No one could even touch him!”

Brady cut himself off mid-yell, spinning toward you with his eyes wide and a wicked grin splitting his face. He jabbed a finger at the ice, where Noah was being mauled by his teammates.

“And that’s your boyfriend now!” Your brother yelled, high enough to turn a couple heads in the stands.

A heat flamed inside your cheeks instantly, the warmth crawling all the way to your ears.

On the ice, Noah finally broke free of the dogpile, helmet crooked. His eyes scanned the crowd once, then locked on you as if you were the only thing in the arena.

Brady’s shriek of “That’s my sister’s boyfriend!” cracked from him again, and for the first time since the beginning of the game, Noah’s grin split wide; stupid and reckless.

Without hesitation, he shook off his gloves with unnecessary haste, tossing them to the ice without care. His helmet followed, bouncing once across the sheet. As he slid toward you he peeled the blue mouth-guard from his teeth, tucking it into the hem of his hockey shorts.

You didn’t even think twice as your feet carried you toward him, body pressed to the barrier, heartbeat thrumming along your throat. The roar of the crowd doubled, players shouting after him as he skated full-speed toward you.

Noah only slowed when he was close enough, chest heaving and dark brown eyes burning into yours. He mouthed two deliberate words with the nod of his head, inked hands reaching out to grab you.

‘Come here.’

And then he slammed into the barrier, hips hitting the board as his glove-free hands braced firm on either side of your body. Noah caught your ribs, hauling you up and over like you weighed nothing to him. The second your shoes touched the ice, his mouth crashed into yours with an unapologetic warmth.

Noise exploded all around, but it blurred into static as he kissed you. All you could feel was Noah, holding you like he just won more than the game itself.

His arms clutched tight around your torso as you spun , crushing you against his chest to anchor you permanently. His tongue pressed insistently at your bottom lip, and when you parted for him, the kiss deepened, aching in a way that made the world spin.

Melting into his body, your fingers clung to the back of his jersey, fingers grazing the letters of his last name that were embroidered on the back. You revelled in the taste of salt, adrenaline, and him; memorizing the softness of his lips, and the tug of his teeth.

When Noah finally drew back just enough to breathe, his forehead pressed to yours with a breathless grin. You felt it against your lips when he whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment:

“You feel better than winning.”

And then he kissed you again, slower this time, tasting you delicately. “This is the real prize.”

You pulled away from his lips, tracing the line of his nose and brows with your eyes. “You deserved that win. I’m so happy for you.”

The brunette froze for a beat, words sinking in as a red hue grew upon his cheeks. A boyish smile lit up his features, admiring the shape of you. He let you down, your feet pressing into the ice before you tiptoed back up to kiss him once more.

“I’m proud of you, Noah.”

That was what undid him; not the crowd, nor the scouts, not even the scoreboard…just you.

His smirk faltered, breath hitching as the flush on his cheeks creeping higher. “Don’t say that,” he rasped, “Not here. You’ll kill me.”

Folio’s howl cracked through the noise while Ruffilo and Matt hit their sticks against the glass on the other side of the rink. “GET A ROOM!”

Noah groaned into your hair, holding you tighter, but Jolly only cupped his hands like a megaphone. “Save some for later, lovebirds!”

You twisted, flipping them off around Noah’s shoulder. The team howled, shoving at each other until half of them toppled, slipping over their own skates.

And then Brady’s shriek split through it all, high-pitched and horrified.

“DISGUSTING!” He yanked his hood over his head, turning away dramatically like he hadn’t just been screaming Noah’s name minutes ago. “Stop spreading your cooties.”

The Panthers doubled over laughing, banging the boards like they were heckling from the bench. Noah only ducked his head, burying his red ears against your temple, chuckling low as he muttered, “Let ‘em chirp. I’m not letting you out of my arms anyway.”

Eventually, the refs shooed you both toward the bench, and Noah pressed one last quick kiss to your hair before letting you slip back over the boards. He jogged down the tunnel with the others, the sound of their voices echoing long after they disappeared.

You and Brady waited by the door that led back into the lobby. It wasn’t long before the boys spilled into the cooridor with a mix of beanies and ballcaps over their heads, faces still pink from the rush of victory.

Noah walked out beside Matt, his hockey bag dragging on wheels behind him; and you watched as his eyes darted to you for a moment, before the sound of his name being called to a group of men standing next ot the bleachers stole his attention. And then his smirk wasn’t aimed at you, it was girm and respectful, fixed on a man in a blazer shaking his hand.

You slowed, holding Brady back just enough to catch the way they spoke in low tones.

“Hell of a game,” the scout said firmly, clapping Noah’s shoulder. “We’ll be in touch. Expect a call soon.”

Noah’s grin faltered slightly in sheer disbelief. His throat worked like he was trying not to smile too wide, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He nodded once, jaw flexing hard as he reached out for the mans hand again. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to it.”

The scout gave one last nod before moving off down the hall, clipboard in hand and leaving Noah standing frozen in the buzz of his teammates. He turned then, finally finding your eyes, and whatever restraint he had snapped clean in half.

He licked his lips before they parted wide, radiant and teasing before chewing down on them.

Matt slammed an arm around his neck before you could reach him, dragging him into the middle of the boys. “Atta boy! Drinks on Noah tonight!”

“Pool party!” Folio howled, already tossing his cap in the air.

“Let’s gooooo!” Jolly bellowed, pounding on the wall like the game was still on.

Brady looked up at you, awe growing in his eyes. “Wait, would that mean WHL? And then maybe NHL?”

But you couldn’t look away from Noah, not when he was beaming amidst his friends, shoulders slapping against him in celebration. He found your gaze once more through the chaos, mouthing something just for you…’later.’

+

The hotel lobby was quiet, until you and the boys filed inside. Folio was the loudest, arm slinging into Jolly’s as he strutted across the carpet. “Pool’s still open, boys! Victory laps incoming!”

“Victory bellyflops, you mean,” Matt muttered, though his grin gave him away.

Ruffilo threw his arm around Brady’s shoulders like he had been his teammate all season. “You comin’, lil dude? We’re about to show you how pros cannonball.”

Brady lit up so hard you thought his face might split. “Hell yes!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Folio cut you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Relax, mom. He’s honorary Panther tonight.”

Noah finally broke free of Matt’s chokehold, tugging his baseball cap lower to hide the flush in his cheeks. When his gaze found you again, the curl of his lip was certain. He tipped his head toward the hall. “Come on, princess. Don’t make me celebrate without you.”

The elevator ride down was chaos with Ruffilo and Jolly arguing over who had the best cannonball form, and Brady chiming in about his “secret splash technique.”

Noah stayed pressed against your side, hand firm at your waist like he wasn’t letting you slip away, not even for a second.

By the time the group spilled into the pool room, shirts were already flying off. Matt shoved Jolly toward the deep end, jumping into the water with haste. The splash hit half the deck, Brady shrieking with laughter as he covered his head with his hoodie.

“Panthers win!” Jolly bellowed before cannonballing in after him.

“Minus ten for form!” Ruffilo shouted, then launched himself off the side with a bellyflop so violent Brady almost fell over laughing.

“Teach me that one!” your brother howled, darting to the edge like he was about to dive straight in, sneakers and all.

You groaned. “Brady, thats- no-” But his hoodie was already gone, shoes thrown carelessly to the side as he jumped.

Folio slid into the water with a wicked grin. “Bellyflops are a canon event. You can’t stop this.”

Brady was already climbing back onto the deck, shaking water from his hair like a wet dog while Ruffilo egged him on for “round two.”

It wasn’t long before a bunch of your brothers teammates came bolting into the pool, screaming Brady’s name in excitement.

“You’re not going in?” Noah asked, raking a hand through his hair as he took a seat next to you.

You nudged him with your knee, sighing as you leaned forward on the chair by the edge of the pool. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on your circus.”

That earned the smallest smile, crooked and tired but warm. He didn’t jump in with the others; he pressed against your side, knees bent and shoulders brushing yours as this was normal.

For a while, you both just watched the chaos ensue. Then, Noah leaned in. “Crazy thing is… this might be the last time we all get to do this together.”

Instead of words, you slid your hand over his under the lip of the plastic chair. His fingeres twitched once against yours, then stilled, holding on firmly. You squeezed his hand a couple times in acknowledgement, heart stuttering.

Noah sucked in a breath, staring forward as he whispered.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, thumb brushing slow over your knuckles, “how hard it is not to drag you upstairs right now.”

Your chest tightened, heat rushing through you, but before you could answer Brady’s laugh cut across the pool. He was shoulder-deep in the water, his teammates clambering around him.

Noah’s gaze lingered, his jaw working. Then he tipped his head toward Matt, who was wading closest in the water.

“Matt.” Noah’s voice cut over the noise.

Matt looked over, padding towards the ledge. “What?”

“Keep an eye on the kid,” Noah said, tilting his chin toward Brady. “Make sure he gets back with the team if we aren’t back.”

Matt’s grin spread slow, teasing with understanding. He gave a mock salute. “Yeah, yeah. Go do your thing, lover boy. I got him.”

Satisfied, Noah pushed up to his feet, tugging you with him. His hand stayed locked with yours, fingers entwined.

“He’s got his boys, he’s got mine. He’s fine.” His October eyes burned as he angled closer. “But I need you.”

And this time, he didn’t wait for your answer.

He hauled you toward the door, strides long, your arm straining to keep up as laughter and splashing echoed behind. The heavy pool door slammed shut, cutting the noise to a muffled hum.

Noah pulled you quickly, and you hurried your footsteps, trying to match his.

“You’re walking fast,” you whispered, breathless, half-laughing as you stumbled to keep up with his pace.

Noah shot you a look over his shoulder, his jaw clenched with impatience. “What, did you want me to fuck you here in the hallway then? Let everyone watch?”

Your breath caught, the words sparking hot in your chest. “No-”

“Then keep up.” His grip crushed yours tighter, dragging you down the corridor with reckless certainty.

The carpet blurred under your feet until you reached your room, fumbling with the card. When the door swung open, Noah’s hand shot out past your shoulder. He grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign and slapped it onto the knob, then shoved the door closed behind you with his foot. In one, quick, motion he flicked the deadbolt and slid the top latch across, sealing you both inside, and preventing anyone else from coming in.

For a beat, silence pressed heavy; just your ragged breathing, and his low rasp. Then Noah ripped his cap off and tossed it aside, striding past you with a kind of single-minded authority that made your stomach flip. His hand hooked into your waistband, dragging you forward until the backs of your legs hit the bed.

In the next instant he shoved you down onto the mattress, hard enough to steal a gasp from your chest.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about since dinner?” His voice was shredded, inked fingers already working at your button, snapping the metal open before tugging your zipper down. “I finally get to shove my cock inside you tonight.”

The blunt filth of it lit went straight between your legs. You grinned up at him as you pushed your jeans down yourself, peeling your shirt over your head while he stood there watching, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He didn’t kiss you yet; instead, Noah leaned down, his mouth hovering just over yours in a vow. “I’ve been holding back all weekend.” His hand slid lower, curling into your thong before snapping the band against your hip. “You’re not fucking ready for what I’m about to do to you.”

Then he leaned back onto his knees, looming over you with his chest heaving. His fingers caught your wrists, dragging them down to the hem of his shirt.

“Take it off,” he ordered, voice low and frayed.

You peeled his shirt up slowly, revealing ink and muscle inch by inch, your breath catching as you pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

“I love that you listen so well,” he murmured, already guiding your hands lower. His sweats hung low on his hips, and he pressed your palms against him, forcing you to feel just how hard he was.

For a moment, Noah held your hand in place, moving your palm along his arousal between the fabric. He guided your hand as you jerked him off, his breathy laugh intoxicating.

Your pulse stuttered as you slid the waistband down, boxers with it, his cock springing free.

Noah caught your chin between his fingers, making you look at him instead of gawking. His mouth curled into something sinful.

“I need you to get me nice and wet,” he said, the words vibrating low in his chest. His thumb brushed your jaw, almost tender even as his cock twitched hard in front of you. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nodded before you could think, spinning so you were on your stomach, almost hanging over the bed before him. His hand stayed over yours at first, guiding your grip as you wrapped around him, dragging your palm slow from base to tip. Slick smeared across your fingers instantly, his breath catching in his throat as you stroked him again, firmer.

“That’s it,” he groaned, head tipping back as the veins in his neck strained. “Fuck, just like that. Make me messy.”

You worked him steadily, the heat of him heavy and pulsing in your hand, before sticking out your tongue. Looking up at him, you couldn’t help but admire the way he smiled down at you, enamoured in the way you pressed yout tongue flat against the underside, until his cock gleamed in the dim light with every lick.

Wrapping your mouth around him, you coated him with saliva. By the time he pulled your mouth away and commanded you on your back, he was slick and dripping against your folds, smearing his precum over your thong.

“Perfect,” Noah gritted brows furrowing as he began grinding the length of himself against you, pressing the swollen head into your clit until your back arched.

The soaked fabric of your thong dragged with every thrust of his hips, the lace catching against your swollen nerves, making the friction unbearable. He pressed into you harder, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock as he slid along the wet mix of your saliva and asrousal that seeped through the material.

You pulled your legs back, elbows underneath your knees, as you held yourself open for him. “Noah, please-”

“Not yet,” he rasped, pinning your hips with his free hand when you tried to buck against him. He pressed himself slow and merciless. “You’ll come when I want you to.”

Your thighs trembled, the pressure building; until he reached for the top of your panties, tugging the fabric taught between your folds.

The taut band pulled your clit as Noah ground his tip against you, the head of his cock sliding over the fabric again and again until your vision blurred. You gasped, every nerve screaming as you arched again.

You cursed, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. You couldn’t help but bite at the skin from the stimulation.

“That’s it,” he praised, eyes locked on your face to watch every second of you unravel. “Soaking through for me. You love it, don’t you? My cock ruining your pretty little panties?”

The drag grew wetter and more obscene as he leaned down, spitting between your legs. Your nails bit half-moons into your thighs as you held yourself open, offering everything to him while he used the lace like a second skin. When the blunt head caught your clit just right, your body broke; hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm ripped, shaking you apart beneath him.

“Fuck yes,” Noah groaned, shoving the thong aside at last so he could feel your slick release spilling against his skin. He dragged the swollen head directly over your bare folds, coating himself in the mess he wrung out of you.

“And I didn’t even fuck you yet.” He laughed, almost in mockery and awe at how easily you succumbed to his touch.

Then, with a growl, he lined himself up and pushed forward, the stretch immediate and overwhelming.

The first push of him stole the air from your lungs. Inch by inch, he drove deeper, filling you so completely it felt like your body was molding around him.

“Jesus christ Noah.” you gasped, clinging to the sheets, to his arms, to anything you could reach as he remained above you.

“Relax,” Noah stuttered, broken as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His brow’s furrowed, sweat gleaming at his temple, while every muscle in his abdomen pulled taut as he fought to hold still. “You feel so…fuck, you feel like you were made for me. My cock fits so perfect inside your pussy.”

He held himself steady with an arm on either side of your shoulders and pulled back slowly, before thrusting forward again, the sound of your bodies meeting filthy in the quiet hotel room.

In seconds the rhythm came, needy and relishing in finally claiming your body with his. Every thrust hit deep enough to make the mattress creak beneath you, his teeth clenched with each snap of his hips. He didn’t even watch your eyes, just stared at the way he sank into your body so perfectly, fixated on the slick stretch around him.

“Look at that,” Noah groaned, his hips driving harder. “Taking me so deep…God, you’re swallowing me whole.”

His thumb pressed into your hip to keep you open for him, dragging you down onto each thrust. Your thighs quivered, the obscene wet slap of him inside you echoing with every snap of his hips.

You tried to catch his face, to anchor him, but his gaze was locked below, lips parted in complete desperatin as he followed his own thrusts.

Noah’s hips stuttered as though his words alone nearly undid him. “You have the most perfect pussy.”

His thumb pressed harder into your hip, dragging you down onto every thrust until your walls fluttered tight around him. You couldn’t even think anymore as you reached between your thighs, pressing the pads of your fingers to your desire.

“How is it you feel so good?” You choked out, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. “I- can’t-”

“Yes you can,” he snarled, finally dragging his gaze up to your face. His eyes were coated with lust, captivated. “You’re gonna come for me, right on my cock. I need to see you cream around me Y/N, right fucking now.”

Before you could even whimper a reply, his hand slid from your hip up your torso, until his fingers curled around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, just pushed you firm and claiming, into the mattress so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

“Eyes on me,” Noah demanded, hips slamming deeper, his arousal dragging against every nerve inside you. “I want to watch you break while I’m inside you.”

Your vision blurred as the pressure built between your legs, your body quaking under the combined grip at your throat and the relentless thrusts that stole the breath from your lungs. Every sound you tried to make caught in his palm, until your climax snapped hard and sudden, your walls clenching down on him like a vice.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, staring straight into your eyes as you shattered beneath him, drilling into your body with an alarming pace. “That’s my girl. That’s my perfect fucking girl.”

A cry tore free despite the hand on your throat, your body shaking as the climax ripped through you.

Noah didn’t slow. His thrusts grew rougher, more frantic as he chased the tight squeeze of your body milking him.

The overstimulation felt scorching hot as your thighs tried to snap shut. But his hand tightened on your throat, pinning you down, holding you in place.

“I told you you weren’t ready,” he growled, his mouth curling into a grin. “And I’m still not done with you.”

He let go of your neck, pulling out for a moment as he flipped you onto your stomach, dragging you up by your hips and shoving his cock back inside with a growl. The sudden depth made you cry out, muffled against the pillow as you pressed your face into it, stomach against the sheets. For a moment he stayed their, fingers raking down your back, gripping your ass as he pulled you against him and kneaded the skin.

Noah groaned, leaning down so his chest hot and heavy across your back as his arm looped under your throat, dragging you upright. The chokehold was firm, pinning you against his chest while he slammed into you from behind, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. “You’re mine. You hear me? Mine.”

“Make me yours, Noah.” You gasped, holding his forearm as you leaned your head back into his shoulder. Your body clenched around him again despite the overstimulation, and when your legs gave out, he let you collapse, flipping you onto your back in one brutal motion.

He crawled onto the bed, his mouth caught yours in a filthy kiss as he hauled you onto his lap, forcing you onto him.

Straddling his waist, you smiled breathlessly, watching the way his shoulders heaved below you, hair damp and pressed to his foread. Your hands splayed across the ink of his chest, steadying yourself as you sank down onto him.

Noah’s hands clamped your hips immediately, grinding you down harder, making you feel every thick inch. His chin ticked, teeth bared as he muttered through them, “You look so pretty up there.”

With a hum, you lifted your hips up and down in a shaky rhythm, body not recovered from your first release. It wasn’t long that this pace wasn’t enough, as Noah’s patience shattered, and with a guttural growl he drove up into you, each thrust violent enough to bounce you in his lap.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed, sweat dripping down his temple. “You thought you’d tease me all weekend and then take your time? That’s not how this works.” He reached for the back of your neck, pulling you down towards his mouth like he owned you.

“Then prove to me it’s been worth it.” You pushed, the words molding against his lips. He pressed his tongue against yours in a filthy promise.

“Then prove to me it’s been worth it.” You pushed, the words molding against his lips. He pressed his tongue against yours in a filthy promise, hips snapping harder until you broke into desperate whimpers.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you choked on the pace, head tipping back. “Noah, please. Cum for me. I want it. I need it.”

His breath ripped out of him like you’d knocked the air from his chest, his thrusts faltering just for a beat before coming back sharper, more violent. His teeth grazed your jaw, falling down your neck before landing on your collarbone.

“You. Don’t. Get. It.” He ground out between thrusts, each word a punch with his thrusts. “I’m not stopping till you can’t say my name without crying. You want me to cum? Beg louder.”

Your voice cracked. “Noah, please. Please. I’m begging, I fucking can’t- Noah.”

“That’s it,” he snarled, his mouth dragging hot as he bit the skin on your neck, sucking and licking until you were certain there would be a mark. His drilling turned punishing, each one hitting so deep you saw stars. His hands clamped around your back, holding you down against his chest and mouth while he pushed you to another orgasm.

Your body shook around him, and you clung tighter, gasping his name like a prayer.

“Again,” he demanded, tongue circling your pulse. “Beg me like you mean it. I’ll paint you full if you beg loud enough pretty girl.”

The name pushed you over the edge, your whole body seizing as another climax tore through you, raw and unbearable. Your thighs trembled violently where they straddled him, walls clenching down so hard around his cock that his rhythm faltered.

Your head dropped against his shoulder, tears streaking hot at the corners of your eyes as you sobbed his name, giving him exactly what he demanded.

“Not done,” he rasped, pulling you down into another filthy kiss , then flipping you onto your side, spooning you while still inside. His chest locked tight against your back, breath ragged at your shoulder. “You’re giving me every god damn second before I lose you.”

His arm clamped around your middle to fuse you together, each of you trembling. As he held you close, it wasn’t long before his fingers began to shake against your skin.

Noah groaned against your neck, stuttering inside you as he finally let go, heat flooding deep. He filled you with everything he had to offer, and when you shifted to clean up, he didn’t let go, not even when his body shook through the aftershocks, not when your whimpers cracked against the pillow.

He buried his face into your damp hair, arm still wound iron-tight around you in claim.

For a long moment, the room was nothing but your tangled breaths. Sweat slicked your skin where it pressed to his, sheets twisted around your legs. His thumb found yours blindly, as you both lay on your side, locking your hands together in the mess of it all.

When he finally eased, he pressed reverent kisses along your shoulder, softer than anything he’d given you all night.

“Please don’t go.” You whispered, pressing your back into him.

His voice came out broken, whispering into your skin through the sorrow of it all.

“I don’t want this night to end.”

You swallowed hard, tears burning again as you whispered back, “Then we’ll just keep replaying it… until even the silence remembers us.”

+

Somehow, it felt harder to get ready in the morning. Brady shoved clothes into his duffel with no hesitance, muttering about how he was finally happy to be rid of hotel food.

But you couldn’t even bring yourself to put your shoes on at the door, knowing that once you did, things were really over. The laces hung loose between your fingers as you sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets still tangled and smelling faintly of him.

Brady zipped his bag and dragged it across the floor, despite it being a shoulder bag. “You ready yet?”

You swallowed, forcing your hands to move; threading one lace, then the other, each pull feeling like it strung the goodbye tighter.

The hallway felt cruel in its quiet, the hum of the vending machine suddenly too loud. Every step toward the elevator pressed like a countdown, and when the doors finally dinged open, the sound cut through you.

The lobby was warm, parents gathering and checking out at reception. However, you couldn’t notice any of it; because he was there.

Noah sat in the chair by the fireplace, that stupid, insufferable beanie placed perfectly, elbows braced on his knees like he had been waiting. His eyes lifted the second you stepped out of the elevator, locking onto yours with a weight that stopped you mid-step.

For a beat you couldn’t move, throat tightening as it became hard to swallow.

Number nineteen rose when he saw you hesitate. He didn’t smile, not this time.

Brady blinked between you both, shoulders stiff with realization. “I’ll…uh… go grab a muffin,” he mumbled, bolting toward the breakfast table without waiting for a reply.

The moment your brother’s back turned, Noah closed the space, his hand finding yours like he had the night before, squeezing tight enough that your fingers ached. He smelled like soap; but beneath it lingered the ghost of last night, and everything you both weren’t ready to let go of.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Guess this is it.”

Your throat closed, glancing away for a moment, clawing at the sleeves of your sweater; the same one you wore all weekend with him. “I hate that it is.”

For the first time since you had met him, he looked unsure. His eyes traced your face like he was trying to memorize it, pupils wide and dark.

“I don’t want you to think…” He shook his head, exhaling hard. “Last night wasn’t just… it wasn’t just a game high, or me being reckless. This whole weekend wasn’t that. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Your chest burned. “It was real.”

His mouth twitched briefly, before he took another step forward, reaching for your face. With a hand on either side, he pulled you towards his lips; but this kiss was different to those the past couple nights. This one was soft, desperate in a kind of longing you have never tasted on someone before.

Noah’s thumb brushed your cheekbone once, his fingers shaky, before he pulled you into a hug.

His arms enveloped you, pulling you into his body. You cluched the back of his hoodie, face pressed into his chest as you breathed him in.

You swallowed hard, mumbling into his chest, “I’ll miss you.”

His chin dipped, lips brushing the crown of your head. “I’m already missing you.”

It was barely audible, though it carved deep, a promise you knew he’d never say out loud to anyone else.

Finally, with a shaky breath, he pulled back. His hands lingered at your cheeks, thumbs brushing once more as though he couldn’t stand to stop touching you.

“Seriously? In front of the muffins?!” Brady shouted from behind you.

The two of you laughed briefly, and then finally, he pulled back with a shaky breath. Noah’s hands lingered at your cheeks, thumbs brushing once more as though he couldn’t stand to stop touching you.

“I’ll find you,” he said, eyes refusing to leave yours.

And then he stepped back. His hands fell away, his shoulders squared, and he bent down to sling his hockey bag over his shoulder. You felt it in your chest as he turned toward the lobby doors, the ache of finality hollowing out your ribs as you watched his back.

Noah made it all of three steps before pausing. His head tipped, and then he turned back around.

With a tight smile pulling at your lips, you watched as the sadness still lingered on his features; but so was something else. His brow lifted with that familiar quizzical tilt, and then a slow, teasing, annoying curve of his lips lit up his face.

Noah shrugged lightly, clicking his tongue as he hitched his bag higher on one shoulder, the other hand shoved into his pocket.

“Hey. By the way…” He was quiet, teasing yet soft. “I’ve got this friend who thinks you’re pretty cute. Mind if I get your number for him?”

Your laugh cracked, rolling your eyes as you pulled out your phone with the shake of your head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

And the grin that spread across his face was the same one that started it all.

Thank you so so so much for reading. I appreciate you all immensely, and am grateful for the reblogs, comments, and love. Perhaps an epilogue would be fun. ☺️

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[sorrowsofsilence]

Thank you for being so lovely and reblogging. Your comments mean so much 🥹🖤🫂 I’m so happy you enjoyed

biscuit • n.s || chpt. seven

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 8.3k || read time: ~39 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dom!noah (homie is a little needy and rough ok), orgasm denial, spitting, nicknames (my girl, princess), male and female orgasm, handjob / bj (its their last night dudes, things be... intense :)

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: damn... and just like that, this series is over. I feel sad lol. I think thats why this chapters really long; bc I just kept having things I wanted to put in, and tie it back to the whole fun weekend vibes. Thank you for all the love on this one; it really was a literal dream to write, and this filled my cup immensely. It was just so fun to live through; and I hope you enjoy this final chapter <3 Muah muah (I re-wrote this quite a bit, which is also why it took me longer to get out; but with that being said atm it’s not fully proof read, bc its almost 3am lol and I don't wanna delay sharing any longer!!)

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

The truck was still fogged when Noah finally shoved his sweats back into place, chest heaving.

Neither of you spoke at first, the silence charged, your breathing loud in the cab. Then he dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before leaning over to kiss you once more, hard and quick, then reaching towards the door handle.

Cold air rushed in as you both stepped out. Your legs wobbled a little, but Noah’s hand immediately found the small of your back. The way his thumb twitched, pressing too firmly against your spine, made you shiver, as though that little action was much more intimate compared to what happened minutes prior.

“You ready?” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile. This was a big game for him, and all the Panthers.

“Yeah,” he said, though his voice rasped rough. Then, with a crooked smirk, “Especially with that good luck you gave me.”

Before you could roll your eyes, the rink doors slid open and Jolly’s voice cut across the lot.

“Noah! Quit making out with your girlfriend and get your ass inside!”

Heat shot up your neck, and you couldn’t even fire up a response before Brady piped up behind him, almost distraught.

“Where were you? You abandoned me!”

You stiffened, but Noah didn’t even blink. He flashed Brady that easy grin that made your knees weak. “Getting focused, dude. No stress, I’m sure you were in good hands.”

Jolly raised both his brows, licking his lips before giving your brother a mischievous look. “The kid was raiding the vending machine and now has three bags of Skittles.” His eyes then darted to you, giving you a mock-sympathetic shrug. “Good luck with the sugar rush later. I stopped him before he could shake out a fourth bag.”

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to tell her.” Brady crossed his arms, then glared at you, unconvinced. “Focused looks a lot like sneaking around. I’ll get you grounded.”

“Adults don’t get grounded, Brade.” You shoved his shoulder as the four of you head inside, footsteps muffled by the black rubber floor.

Noah only chuckled, shaking his head like Brady was a teammate giving him lip. “We gotta change as warmup starts in ten. Wanna see what a fun locker room’s like before a final?”

Your brother blinked, taken aback. “You mean the old man league locker room? All you guys do is reek and talk about girls.”

“Not wrong,” Jolly said, slapping his palm against the cinderblock wall for emphasis. “Mostly fart jokes and playlists, though. You’ll love it.”

Brady wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Noah leaned down, his breath brushing your ear. “Better than how I’ll smell after three periods, trust me.”

You shoved him lightly in the chest as you reached the locker room, causing him to stagger back with a playful sway. “Oh, c’mon. Double gross.”

“At least he showers,” Jolly said, throwing a thumb back while his other hand pressed the tall grey door.

The sound hit before you even stepped inside, Folio’s laugh carrying over a bass-heavy speaker thumping EDM.

Brady’s eyes widened instantly, the nerves on his face melting into awe. “Holy crap. We aren’t even allowed to play music in ours. This is sick.”

Matt, Folio, and Jolly were already scattered through the room, half-dressed, bantering loud enough to rattle the walls.

“Girl incoming!” Jolly yelled, “Make sure everyone’s got pants!”

Multiple pairs of eyes darted toward you and Brady with a smirk, lacing up their skates.

“There he is!” Folio crowed from the corner, pointing his shin pads like a weapon. “Bro finally shows up. What were you doing, braiding her hair?”

Ruffilo snorted, tugging on his pads. “Nah, look at him. Guy’s glowing.”

“Put a shirt on before you blind me,” Noah said with the roll of his eyes, bending down and unzipping his bag.

“Hey!” Matt pulled his jersey over his pads, the white number ten reflecting against the bright lights in the room. “We’re just curious, y’know.” His eyes then danced toward you, glinting with a knowing that made your face warm.

Noah just rolled his shoulders, smirk sharp as he dug around for his tape. “You clowns worried about me, or about the scoreboard?”

The room cracked up, whistles and howls bouncing off the walls, while Folio elbowed Ruffilo, whispering, “Hm. I bet it was both.”

Brady lingered just inside the doorway, eyes darting around like he’d stepped into another universe. You could practically feel his heartbeat hammering from here.

Matt tipped his chin toward him. “What’s the kid staring at? Never seen a locker room before? Don’t you change in here, too?”

“We aren’t allowed to touch the aux,” Brady blurted, voice louder than he meant. “This is insane. It’s actually fun, like you guys are cool.”

Folio barked a laugh, crushing his can of redbull against his thigh. “First lesson, little man. Locker room music sets the win. No good playlist, no good game.”

Ruffilo leaned over with mock solemnity. “Second lesson? Superstition. Everybody’s got one.”

“Like… lucky socks?” Brady asked, intrigued with the wisdom he felt they were about to instil upon him.

“Lucky socks, lucky tape, lucky song, lucky underwear,” Ruffilo rattled off, pointing at each of the boys as though they were exhibits. “We don’t mess with rituals before finals.”

Matt groaned. “Oh God, here we go.”

Folio wagged his finger. “Laugh all you want, Matty Baby, but I’ve eaten the same gas station muffin before every playoff game since Bantams. Works every damn time.”

The whole room groaned. “That explains so much,” Ruffilo muttered. “No wonder you have IBS.”

With a glare, then a tight-lipped nod, Folio agreed.

Jolly laughed, rolling his eyes before lifting his jersey and pads to reveal an insanely worn-out black t-shirt. “I’ve worn this shirt for three years. Haven’t washed it.”

Brady recoiled instantly, glancing at you with a grimace. “That’s…dude, that’s gross!”

“Gross, but undefeated,” Jolly shot back, patting the rank fabric proudly. “Three seasons, zero losses in elimination games.”

Matt gagged, tossing a towel over his head. “Pretty sure the shirt’s playing harder than you are.”

Ruffilo leaned forward, grinning as he slid his team socks over his shin pads. “What about you, rookie? Got any rituals?”

Brady froze, shoulders stiff as every head in the room turned. “Uh…I um…I guess I eat a granola bar before every game?”

“Lame,” Folio declared, squirting water from his green Gatorade bottle into his mouth, “You need something epic, little bro.”

“Says the one that eats a gas station muffin?” Brady shot back.

The room yelled at Brady’s comeback, even the other teammates, as Ruffilo almost choked on his protein bar. “Kid’s already roasting you, Folio. Better watch your throne.”

“Yeah, well,” Folio grumbled, nodding lazily at Brady, “at least my muffin’s got history. Granola bars are for figure skaters.”

Even Jolly snorted, shaking his head. “God, he’s already one of us.”

Matt leaned back against his stall, smirking. “Don’t let it get to your head, rookie. You still gotta pick a ritual that doesn’t make you sound like a middle schooler.”

Brady turned, eyes flicking to Noah like he wanted backup. “Ok, well, what about you, then? What’s yours?”

The noise dimmed instantly, the whole room pivoting like they’d been waiting for the question. Noah didn’t even pause as he tossed Brady his tape, who caught it with a fumble of fingers.

“Me?” The brunette’s eyes lifted, finding yours for a heartbeat too long, before glancing at the ground with a smile. “My good luck’s covered. Nothing crazy.”

The eruption was instant with Jolly’s howl of laughter, and Matt pounding his stick against the floor.

Ruffilo started barking, throwing his glove at Folio, who barked back, throwing the fabric to the ground. “What a D-O-G DAWG!”

A rush of heat washed over your cheeks and ears, biting the inside of your cheek as you glanced in mock annoyance at number nineteen, who just chewed back a smile, taking his seat on the bench.

Brady frowned, looking between them. “What? I don’t get it.”

"Don't worry about it, champ," Noah said smoothly, tucking his stick under his arm with a grin. "Granola’s working for you, don’t worry about me.”

Brady’s brows furrowed deeper, like he was about to press the issue, but Jolly clapped him on the back. “Every guy’s got his own thing. Noah doesn’t really have one.”

“Yeah,” Folio added, slinging his jersey over his shoulder pads. “Some just get… luckier than others. Part of the game.”

The laughter sparked again, whistles bouncing off the cement walls. You groaned, pressing your sleeve over your burning face.

“God, you’re all children,” you muttered, shaking your head.

The assistant coach then shoved through the door, clapping loudly. “Alright, let’s go, Panthers. Warm-ups start in three. Get your asses moving.”

The whole room shifted at once as laces tightened and jerseys tugged down in practiced rhythm. The easy banter simmered into focus, the shift so fast it made your pulse catch.

Noah was the last to stand, stick twirling once in his inked hand as he caught your eye, that smirk still tugging. “Come on, beautiful. I wanna hear you in the stands…I need you to help me win.”

Before you could answer, he leaned in quick, pressing his mouth to yours in the briefest kiss; fast enough the others wouldn’t clock it, but enough to leave you breathless.

When he pulled back, his lips curved, wicked. “Good luck charm,” he murmured with a shrug, walking backwards as he slung his stick over his shoulder and strode out the door.

Leaving the locker room, you tugged your brother up into the stands, sinking into the bleachers just as Noah’s number cut clean down the ice. He was loose and casual, though every line of him hummed with purpose.

“Ugh,” Brady muttered, reaching into his pocket and crunching into one of his many bags of Skittles. “Why do they all have to pose before the game?”

The word pose was generous because when Noah and half the team dropped into deep lunges with their sticks braced against the ice, it did look deliberate. His thighs stretched wide, ink peeking under his rolled sleeves as he leaned low, rocking back slowly before switching sides.

Your mouth went dry.

Brady squinted. “Are they seriously… dancing right now? What the heck, why didn’t they do this last game?”

“They’re stretches,” you hissed, “NHL players do it all the time.”

Noah’s gaze flicked up, catching you watching. His smirk was quick, then he dipped lower into the lunge, like he knew exactly what he was doing. When he rose, rolling his arms back with an easy swing of his stick, you couldn’t help but think that it was less about loosening his muscles and more about winding you tighter.

Brady groaned, shoving his hand over his face, then jerked back with wide eyes. “Ugh! My fingers are sticky! This is the most cursed pre-game routine ever.”

“That’s called karma for scamming the vending machine,” you muttered, kicking his foot as you shook the thoughts of Noah away.

He kicked your ankle harder, earning a scowl from you.

“It doesn’t have feelings,” he said defensively, then licked his fingertips.

You recoiled instantly, nose wrinkling. “Bro. Go wash your hands, that’s foul.”

Pushing your brother off the bleacher so he would go wash up, your gaze flicked to Folio just in time to catch the end of some odd leg wiggles, his knees bouncing in and out while he leaned against the boards like he was auditioning for the world’s worst dance video.

Ruffilo skated past and whacked Folio’s stick with his own. You were close enough to hear his: “Quit trying to twerk on the blue line, man. Scouts are watching.”

Folio grinned widely, unbothered. “Hey, flexible hips make a flexible player.”

You tried to hide your laugh behind your sleeve, but Noah noticed it anyway. As though he hated your attention being anywhere else, he coasted backwards across center ice, never breaking eye contact.

With one slow roll of his hips, he sank into another lunge; lower this time with his legs spread wide, stick braced casually across his thighs. The movement was too smooth and controlled to be innocent. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary, head tipping just enough to make sure you saw.

Then he pushed upright in a single flex, stick flicking lazily in his hands like he hadn’t just made your pulse trip over itself.

“Oh fuck off,” you muttered under your breath, dragging your eyes back to the boards like you hadn’t just been caught drooling.

The whistle shrieked, snapping through the air. Noah tapped his stick once against the ice, teeth tugging, then skated to his line. The joking expression melted off his face as fast as the echo faded; his shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed in focus.

And suddenly it wasn’t about the lunge or the smiles, or even the kiss in his truck. It was about this: the weight of expectation, the final game, and Noah with the puck on his stick, the whole rink watching.

The arena buzzed louder, stomps rattling the bleachers as scouts’ pens scratched from the balcony above.

You could feel Brady bouncing back into the seat beside you, hands still damp from soap but fists pumping with energy. “Okay. Okay, this is it.”

The whistle blew again, and the puck dropped.

It clattered against the ice, sticks slamming as the players surged forward. The noise was instant, loud enough to rattle in your chest as you sat on the edge of your seat.

Noah didn’t ease into it; he immediately threw his shoulder into the first winger that touched him, the glass vibrating from the impact. The crowd roared, stomping the bleachers.

“Holy crap!” Brady shouted, practically bouncing out of his seat. “Flattened pancake mode!”

You almost laughed, but Noah was already gone, blade carving the ice as he tracked the puck. He didn’t need to score to make an impression; he was controlled, setting the tone and grinding the other team down until the end of his shift.

By second period, the Panthers struck first. It was a quick cycle, Noah pinning a defenseman with sheer force, and Folio burying the rebound. The horn screamed, causing the bench of watchers and players to erupt, but Noah barely raised his arms. He tapped Folio’s helmet, already gliding back to the center for faceoff. He meant business.

Your brother was shouting like he had scored the goal himself, though through the noise, you couldn’t drag your eyes off Noah’s face.

It was almost mesmerizing, watching the way he crouched low at the dot, hunched over with his stick braced, glare locked on the opponent across from him. He wasn’t the cocky, teasing player you knew. He was locked in, ruthless and devoted to the win.

The game built in flashes after that, a brutal faceoff win where he snapped the puck back like it was nothing, a pass that threaded through two defenders onto Jolly’s stick, a backcheck that broke up what could have been a breakaway goal.

Matt slipped into the zone with speed, slicing tight between the boards and the net before ripping a shot that forced the goalie sprawling. Ruffilo was already there, crashing the crease, digging his stick in for the rebound until the puck popped loose. Jolly swooped in behind him, smacking the puck back on net, only for it to ring off the post with a metallic clang.

The boys regrouped instantly, swarming back in hive-mind. Folio barked a call from the side, his stick raised, and Noah feathered a pass out to him without even looking. Jolly hammered the puck with a slapshot that ricocheted wide, but Matt was quick to corralling it along the boards before tossing it back toward their own ned. Ruffilo muscled into his man, shoving him off balance just enough to clear a lane.

They were relentless. Shift after shift, the Panthers pinned their opponents onto their side, cycling and wearing them down. You could feel the tension building, the pressure suffocating as the screams of the crowd fed off every hit and blocked shot.

By the time the third period ticked down, the lead was razor-thin. The Panthers were up with a one-goal advantage, and the other team gambled everything, choosing to pull their goalie in place for an extra attacker. Six skaters swarmed the boys, the crowd’s roar climbing while scouts scribbled in frantic bursts behind you.

With a quick slap, the puck whipped across the blue line toward the Panthers’ end. A shot cracked off the bar, the disc gliding out into a scramble of bodies. Player’s shoved eachother in chaotic bursts as their sticks hacked the ice; but in a moment, Noah pushed himself free, puck in his control.

Your heart hammered as his strides devoured the world in a clean, powerful glide; the empty net waiting for him ahead.

Brady leaned toward you, vibrating in his seat as he clung to your arm so tight it hurt. “Oh my god! Noah!” he screamed like Noah could hear him, shaking you hard enough to throw your body sideways. “The defensmen is no where- he’s gonna-”

And he did. With the flick of his wrists, the puck sailed dead center, snapping the back of the mesh so hard it flew back out again.

Brady clung to your jacket, jumping so high he nearly dragged you off balance, his laughter wild and unrestrained. Skittles spilled out of his pocket, rocketing to the floor with a series of tinks against the metal.

You wrapped an arm tight around him, laughing just as hard, your ears ringing with the boom of the others on the benched behind you. Sticks scattered across the ice as the Panthers swarmed Noah, jumping and crashing into him in a dogpile of jerseys and shouts.

Your brother gasped mid-shout, eyes darting down. “My skittles!”

But then he whipped his head back up, voice cracking as he pumped both fists in the air. “Never mind! He did it, he freaking did it! Did you see how clean that was? No one could even touch him!”

Brady cut himself off mid-yell, spinning toward you with his eyes wide and a wicked grin splitting his face. He jabbed a finger at the ice, where Noah was being mauled by his teammates.

“And that’s your boyfriend now!” Your brother yelled, high enough to turn a couple heads in the stands.

A heat flamed inside your cheeks instantly, the warmth crawling all the way to your ears.

On the ice, Noah finally broke free of the dogpile, helmet crooked. His eyes scanned the crowd once, then locked on you as if you were the only thing in the arena.

Brady’s shriek of “That’s my sister’s boyfriend!” cracked from him again, and for the first time since the beginning of the game, Noah’s grin split wide; stupid and reckless.

Without hesitation, he shook off his gloves with unnecessary haste, tossing them to the ice without care. His helmet followed, bouncing once across the sheet. As he slid toward you he peeled the blue mouth-guard from his teeth, tucking it into the hem of his hockey shorts.

You didn’t even think twice as your feet carried you toward him, body pressed to the barrier, heartbeat thrumming along your throat. The roar of the crowd doubled, players shouting after him as he skated full-speed toward you.

Noah only slowed when he was close enough, chest heaving and dark brown eyes burning into yours. He mouthed two deliberate words with the nod of his head, inked hands reaching out to grab you.

‘Come here.’

And then he slammed into the barrier, hips hitting the board as his glove-free hands braced firm on either side of your body. Noah caught your ribs, hauling you up and over like you weighed nothing to him. The second your shoes touched the ice, his mouth crashed into yours with an unapologetic warmth.

Noise exploded all around, but it blurred into static as he kissed you. All you could feel was Noah, holding you like he just won more than the game itself.

His arms clutched tight around your torso as you spun , crushing you against his chest to anchor you permanently. His tongue pressed insistently at your bottom lip, and when you parted for him, the kiss deepened, aching in a way that made the world spin.

Melting into his body, your fingers clung to the back of his jersey, fingers grazing the letters of his last name that were embroidered on the back. You revelled in the taste of salt, adrenaline, and him; memorizing the softness of his lips, and the tug of his teeth.

When Noah finally drew back just enough to breathe, his forehead pressed to yours with a breathless grin. You felt it against your lips when he whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment:

“You feel better than winning.”

And then he kissed you again, slower this time, tasting you delicately. “This is the real prize.”

You pulled away from his lips, tracing the line of his nose and brows with your eyes. “You deserved that win. I’m so happy for you.”

The brunette froze for a beat, words sinking in as a red hue grew upon his cheeks. A boyish smile lit up his features, admiring the shape of you. He let you down, your feet pressing into the ice before you tiptoed back up to kiss him once more.

“I’m proud of you, Noah.”

That was what undid him; not the crowd, nor the scouts, not even the scoreboard…just you.

His smirk faltered, breath hitching as the flush on his cheeks creeping higher. “Don’t say that,” he rasped, “Not here. You’ll kill me.”

Folio’s howl cracked through the noise while Ruffilo and Matt hit their sticks against the glass on the other side of the rink. “GET A ROOM!”

Noah groaned into your hair, holding you tighter, but Jolly only cupped his hands like a megaphone. “Save some for later, lovebirds!”

You twisted, flipping them off around Noah’s shoulder. The team howled, shoving at each other until half of them toppled, slipping over their own skates.

And then Brady’s shriek split through it all, high-pitched and horrified.

“DISGUSTING!” He yanked his hood over his head, turning away dramatically like he hadn’t just been screaming Noah’s name minutes ago. “Stop spreading your cooties.”

The Panthers doubled over laughing, banging the boards like they were heckling from the bench. Noah only ducked his head, burying his red ears against your temple, chuckling low as he muttered, “Let ‘em chirp. I’m not letting you out of my arms anyway.”

Eventually, the refs shooed you both toward the bench, and Noah pressed one last quick kiss to your hair before letting you slip back over the boards. He jogged down the tunnel with the others, the sound of their voices echoing long after they disappeared.

You and Brady waited by the door that led back into the lobby. It wasn’t long before the boys spilled into the cooridor with a mix of beanies and ballcaps over their heads, faces still pink from the rush of victory.

Noah walked out beside Matt, his hockey bag dragging on wheels behind him; and you watched as his eyes darted to you for a moment, before the sound of his name being called to a group of men standing next ot the bleachers stole his attention. And then his smirk wasn’t aimed at you, it was girm and respectful, fixed on a man in a blazer shaking his hand.

You slowed, holding Brady back just enough to catch the way they spoke in low tones.

“Hell of a game,” the scout said firmly, clapping Noah’s shoulder. “We’ll be in touch. Expect a call soon.”

Noah’s grin faltered slightly in sheer disbelief. His throat worked like he was trying not to smile too wide, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He nodded once, jaw flexing hard as he reached out for the mans hand again. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to it.”

The scout gave one last nod before moving off down the hall, clipboard in hand and leaving Noah standing frozen in the buzz of his teammates. He turned then, finally finding your eyes, and whatever restraint he had snapped clean in half.

He licked his lips before they parted wide, radiant and teasing before chewing down on them.

Matt slammed an arm around his neck before you could reach him, dragging him into the middle of the boys. “Atta boy! Drinks on Noah tonight!”

“Pool party!” Folio howled, already tossing his cap in the air.

“Let’s gooooo!” Jolly bellowed, pounding on the wall like the game was still on.

Brady looked up at you, awe growing in his eyes. “Wait, would that mean WHL? And then maybe NHL?”

But you couldn’t look away from Noah, not when he was beaming amidst his friends, shoulders slapping against him in celebration. He found your gaze once more through the chaos, mouthing something just for you…’later.’

+

The hotel lobby was quiet, until you and the boys filed inside. Folio was the loudest, arm slinging into Jolly’s as he strutted across the carpet. “Pool’s still open, boys! Victory laps incoming!”

“Victory bellyflops, you mean,” Matt muttered, though his grin gave him away.

Ruffilo threw his arm around Brady’s shoulders like he had been his teammate all season. “You comin’, lil dude? We’re about to show you how pros cannonball.”

Brady lit up so hard you thought his face might split. “Hell yes!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Folio cut you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Relax, mom. He’s honorary Panther tonight.”

Noah finally broke free of Matt’s chokehold, tugging his baseball cap lower to hide the flush in his cheeks. When his gaze found you again, the curl of his lip was certain. He tipped his head toward the hall. “Come on, princess. Don’t make me celebrate without you.”

The elevator ride down was chaos with Ruffilo and Jolly arguing over who had the best cannonball form, and Brady chiming in about his “secret splash technique.”

Noah stayed pressed against your side, hand firm at your waist like he wasn’t letting you slip away, not even for a second.

By the time the group spilled into the pool room, shirts were already flying off. Matt shoved Jolly toward the deep end, jumping into the water with haste. The splash hit half the deck, Brady shrieking with laughter as he covered his head with his hoodie.

“Panthers win!” Jolly bellowed before cannonballing in after him.

“Minus ten for form!” Ruffilo shouted, then launched himself off the side with a bellyflop so violent Brady almost fell over laughing.

“Teach me that one!” your brother howled, darting to the edge like he was about to dive straight in, sneakers and all.

You groaned. “Brady, thats- no-” But his hoodie was already gone, shoes thrown carelessly to the side as he jumped.

Folio slid into the water with a wicked grin. “Bellyflops are a canon event. You can’t stop this.”

Brady was already climbing back onto the deck, shaking water from his hair like a wet dog while Ruffilo egged him on for “round two.”

It wasn’t long before a bunch of your brothers teammates came bolting into the pool, screaming Brady’s name in excitement.

“You’re not going in?” Noah asked, raking a hand through his hair as he took a seat next to you.

You nudged him with your knee, sighing as you leaned forward on the chair by the edge of the pool. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on your circus.”

That earned the smallest smile, crooked and tired but warm. He didn’t jump in with the others; he pressed against your side, knees bent and shoulders brushing yours as this was normal.

For a while, you both just watched the chaos ensue. Then, Noah leaned in. “Crazy thing is… this might be the last time we all get to do this together.”

Instead of words, you slid your hand over his under the lip of the plastic chair. His fingeres twitched once against yours, then stilled, holding on firmly. You squeezed his hand a couple times in acknowledgement, heart stuttering.

Noah sucked in a breath, staring forward as he whispered.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, thumb brushing slow over your knuckles, “how hard it is not to drag you upstairs right now.”

Your chest tightened, heat rushing through you, but before you could answer Brady’s laugh cut across the pool. He was shoulder-deep in the water, his teammates clambering around him.

Noah’s gaze lingered, his jaw working. Then he tipped his head toward Matt, who was wading closest in the water.

“Matt.” Noah’s voice cut over the noise.

Matt looked over, padding towards the ledge. “What?”

“Keep an eye on the kid,” Noah said, tilting his chin toward Brady. “Make sure he gets back with the team if we aren’t back.”

Matt’s grin spread slow, teasing with understanding. He gave a mock salute. “Yeah, yeah. Go do your thing, lover boy. I got him.”

Satisfied, Noah pushed up to his feet, tugging you with him. His hand stayed locked with yours, fingers entwined.

“He’s got his boys, he’s got mine. He’s fine.” His October eyes burned as he angled closer. “But I need you.”

And this time, he didn’t wait for your answer.

He hauled you toward the door, strides long, your arm straining to keep up as laughter and splashing echoed behind. The heavy pool door slammed shut, cutting the noise to a muffled hum.

Noah pulled you quickly, and you hurried your footsteps, trying to match his.

“You’re walking fast,” you whispered, breathless, half-laughing as you stumbled to keep up with his pace.

Noah shot you a look over his shoulder, his jaw clenched with impatience. “What, did you want me to fuck you here in the hallway then? Let everyone watch?”

Your breath caught, the words sparking hot in your chest. “No-”

“Then keep up.” His grip crushed yours tighter, dragging you down the corridor with reckless certainty.

The carpet blurred under your feet until you reached your room, fumbling with the card. When the door swung open, Noah’s hand shot out past your shoulder. He grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign and slapped it onto the knob, then shoved the door closed behind you with his foot. In one, quick, motion he flicked the deadbolt and slid the top latch across, sealing you both inside, and preventing anyone else from coming in.

For a beat, silence pressed heavy; just your ragged breathing, and his low rasp. Then Noah ripped his cap off and tossed it aside, striding past you with a kind of single-minded authority that made your stomach flip. His hand hooked into your waistband, dragging you forward until the backs of your legs hit the bed.

In the next instant he shoved you down onto the mattress, hard enough to steal a gasp from your chest.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about since dinner?” His voice was shredded, inked fingers already working at your button, snapping the metal open before tugging your zipper down. “I finally get to shove my cock inside you tonight.”

The blunt filth of it lit went straight between your legs. You grinned up at him as you pushed your jeans down yourself, peeling your shirt over your head while he stood there watching, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He didn’t kiss you yet; instead, Noah leaned down, his mouth hovering just over yours in a vow. “I’ve been holding back all weekend.” His hand slid lower, curling into your thong before snapping the band against your hip. “You’re not fucking ready for what I’m about to do to you.”

Then he leaned back onto his knees, looming over you with his chest heaving. His fingers caught your wrists, dragging them down to the hem of his shirt.

“Take it off,” he ordered, voice low and frayed.

You peeled his shirt up slowly, revealing ink and muscle inch by inch, your breath catching as you pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

“I love that you listen so well,” he murmured, already guiding your hands lower. His sweats hung low on his hips, and he pressed your palms against him, forcing you to feel just how hard he was.

For a moment, Noah held your hand in place, moving your palm along his arousal between the fabric. He guided your hand as you jerked him off, his breathy laugh intoxicating.

Your pulse stuttered as you slid the waistband down, boxers with it, his cock springing free.

Noah caught your chin between his fingers, making you look at him instead of gawking. His mouth curled into something sinful.

“I need you to get me nice and wet,” he said, the words vibrating low in his chest. His thumb brushed your jaw, almost tender even as his cock twitched hard in front of you. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nodded before you could think, spinning so you were on your stomach, almost hanging over the bed before him. His hand stayed over yours at first, guiding your grip as you wrapped around him, dragging your palm slow from base to tip. Slick smeared across your fingers instantly, his breath catching in his throat as you stroked him again, firmer.

“That’s it,” he groaned, head tipping back as the veins in his neck strained. “Fuck, just like that. Make me messy.”

You worked him steadily, the heat of him heavy and pulsing in your hand, before sticking out your tongue. Looking up at him, you couldn’t help but admire the way he smiled down at you, enamoured in the way you pressed yout tongue flat against the underside, until his cock gleamed in the dim light with every lick.

Wrapping your mouth around him, you coated him with saliva. By the time he pulled your mouth away and commanded you on your back, he was slick and dripping against your folds, smearing his precum over your thong.

“Perfect,” Noah gritted brows furrowing as he began grinding the length of himself against you, pressing the swollen head into your clit until your back arched.

The soaked fabric of your thong dragged with every thrust of his hips, the lace catching against your swollen nerves, making the friction unbearable. He pressed into you harder, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock as he slid along the wet mix of your saliva and asrousal that seeped through the material.

You pulled your legs back, elbows underneath your knees, as you held yourself open for him. “Noah, please-”

“Not yet,” he rasped, pinning your hips with his free hand when you tried to buck against him. He pressed himself slow and merciless. “You’ll come when I want you to.”

Your thighs trembled, the pressure building; until he reached for the top of your panties, tugging the fabric taught between your folds.

The taut band pulled your clit as Noah ground his tip against you, the head of his cock sliding over the fabric again and again until your vision blurred. You gasped, every nerve screaming as you arched again.

You cursed, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. You couldn’t help but bite at the skin from the stimulation.

“That’s it,” he praised, eyes locked on your face to watch every second of you unravel. “Soaking through for me. You love it, don’t you? My cock ruining your pretty little panties?”

The drag grew wetter and more obscene as he leaned down, spitting between your legs. Your nails bit half-moons into your thighs as you held yourself open, offering everything to him while he used the lace like a second skin. When the blunt head caught your clit just right, your body broke; hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm ripped, shaking you apart beneath him.

“Fuck yes,” Noah groaned, shoving the thong aside at last so he could feel your slick release spilling against his skin. He dragged the swollen head directly over your bare folds, coating himself in the mess he wrung out of you.

“And I didn’t even fuck you yet.” He laughed, almost in mockery and awe at how easily you succumbed to his touch.

Then, with a growl, he lined himself up and pushed forward, the stretch immediate and overwhelming.

The first push of him stole the air from your lungs. Inch by inch, he drove deeper, filling you so completely it felt like your body was molding around him.

“Jesus christ Noah.” you gasped, clinging to the sheets, to his arms, to anything you could reach as he remained above you.

“Relax,” Noah stuttered, broken as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His brow’s furrowed, sweat gleaming at his temple, while every muscle in his abdomen pulled taut as he fought to hold still. “You feel so…fuck, you feel like you were made for me. My cock fits so perfect inside your pussy.”

He held himself steady with an arm on either side of your shoulders and pulled back slowly, before thrusting forward again, the sound of your bodies meeting filthy in the quiet hotel room.

In seconds the rhythm came, needy and relishing in finally claiming your body with his. Every thrust hit deep enough to make the mattress creak beneath you, his teeth clenched with each snap of his hips. He didn’t even watch your eyes, just stared at the way he sank into your body so perfectly, fixated on the slick stretch around him.

“Look at that,” Noah groaned, his hips driving harder. “Taking me so deep…God, you’re swallowing me whole.”

His thumb pressed into your hip to keep you open for him, dragging you down onto each thrust. Your thighs quivered, the obscene wet slap of him inside you echoing with every snap of his hips.

You tried to catch his face, to anchor him, but his gaze was locked below, lips parted in complete desperatin as he followed his own thrusts.

Noah’s hips stuttered as though his words alone nearly undid him. “You have the most perfect pussy.”

His thumb pressed harder into your hip, dragging you down onto every thrust until your walls fluttered tight around him. You couldn’t even think anymore as you reached between your thighs, pressing the pads of your fingers to your desire.

“How is it you feel so good?” You choked out, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. “I- can’t-”

“Yes you can,” he snarled, finally dragging his gaze up to your face. His eyes were coated with lust, captivated. “You’re gonna come for me, right on my cock. I need to see you cream around me Y/N, right fucking now.”

Before you could even whimper a reply, his hand slid from your hip up your torso, until his fingers curled around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, just pushed you firm and claiming, into the mattress so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

“Eyes on me,” Noah demanded, hips slamming deeper, his arousal dragging against every nerve inside you. “I want to watch you break while I’m inside you.”

Your vision blurred as the pressure built between your legs, your body quaking under the combined grip at your throat and the relentless thrusts that stole the breath from your lungs. Every sound you tried to make caught in his palm, until your climax snapped hard and sudden, your walls clenching down on him like a vice.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, staring straight into your eyes as you shattered beneath him, drilling into your body with an alarming pace. “That’s my girl. That’s my perfect fucking girl.”

A cry tore free despite the hand on your throat, your body shaking as the climax ripped through you.

Noah didn’t slow. His thrusts grew rougher, more frantic as he chased the tight squeeze of your body milking him.

The overstimulation felt scorching hot as your thighs tried to snap shut. But his hand tightened on your throat, pinning you down, holding you in place.

“I told you you weren’t ready,” he growled, his mouth curling into a grin. “And I’m still not done with you.”

He let go of your neck, pulling out for a moment as he flipped you onto your stomach, dragging you up by your hips and shoving his cock back inside with a growl. The sudden depth made you cry out, muffled against the pillow as you pressed your face into it, stomach against the sheets. For a moment he stayed their, fingers raking down your back, gripping your ass as he pulled you against him and kneaded the skin.

Noah groaned, leaning down so his chest hot and heavy across your back as his arm looped under your throat, dragging you upright. The chokehold was firm, pinning you against his chest while he slammed into you from behind, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. “You’re mine. You hear me? Mine.”

“Make me yours, Noah.” You gasped, holding his forearm as you leaned your head back into his shoulder. Your body clenched around him again despite the overstimulation, and when your legs gave out, he let you collapse, flipping you onto your back in one brutal motion.

He crawled onto the bed, his mouth caught yours in a filthy kiss as he hauled you onto his lap, forcing you onto him.

Straddling his waist, you smiled breathlessly, watching the way his shoulders heaved below you, hair damp and pressed to his foread. Your hands splayed across the ink of his chest, steadying yourself as you sank down onto him.

Noah’s hands clamped your hips immediately, grinding you down harder, making you feel every thick inch. His chin ticked, teeth bared as he muttered through them, “You look so pretty up there.”

With a hum, you lifted your hips up and down in a shaky rhythm, body not recovered from your first release. It wasn’t long that this pace wasn’t enough, as Noah’s patience shattered, and with a guttural growl he drove up into you, each thrust violent enough to bounce you in his lap.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed, sweat dripping down his temple. “You thought you’d tease me all weekend and then take your time? That’s not how this works.” He reached for the back of your neck, pulling you down towards his mouth like he owned you.

“Then prove to me it’s been worth it.” You pushed, the words molding against his lips. He pressed his tongue against yours in a filthy promise.

“Then prove to me it’s been worth it.” You pushed, the words molding against his lips. He pressed his tongue against yours in a filthy promise, hips snapping harder until you broke into desperate whimpers.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you choked on the pace, head tipping back. “Noah, please. Cum for me. I want it. I need it.”

His breath ripped out of him like you’d knocked the air from his chest, his thrusts faltering just for a beat before coming back sharper, more violent. His teeth grazed your jaw, falling down your neck before landing on your collarbone.

“You. Don’t. Get. It.” He ground out between thrusts, each word a punch with his thrusts. “I’m not stopping till you can’t say my name without crying. You want me to cum? Beg louder.”

Your voice cracked. “Noah, please. Please. I’m begging, I fucking can’t- Noah.”

“That’s it,” he snarled, his mouth dragging hot as he bit the skin on your neck, sucking and licking until you were certain there would be a mark. His drilling turned punishing, each one hitting so deep you saw stars. His hands clamped around your back, holding you down against his chest and mouth while he pushed you to another orgasm.

Your body shook around him, and you clung tighter, gasping his name like a prayer.

“Again,” he demanded, tongue circling your pulse. “Beg me like you mean it. I’ll paint you full if you beg loud enough pretty girl.”

The name pushed you over the edge, your whole body seizing as another climax tore through you, raw and unbearable. Your thighs trembled violently where they straddled him, walls clenching down so hard around his cock that his rhythm faltered.

Your head dropped against his shoulder, tears streaking hot at the corners of your eyes as you sobbed his name, giving him exactly what he demanded.

“Not done,” he rasped, pulling you down into another filthy kiss , then flipping you onto your side, spooning you while still inside. His chest locked tight against your back, breath ragged at your shoulder. “You’re giving me every god damn second before I lose you.”

His arm clamped around your middle to fuse you together, each of you trembling. As he held you close, it wasn’t long before his fingers began to shake against your skin.

Noah groaned against your neck, stuttering inside you as he finally let go, heat flooding deep. He filled you with everything he had to offer, and when you shifted to clean up, he didn’t let go, not even when his body shook through the aftershocks, not when your whimpers cracked against the pillow.

He buried his face into your damp hair, arm still wound iron-tight around you in claim.

For a long moment, the room was nothing but your tangled breaths. Sweat slicked your skin where it pressed to his, sheets twisted around your legs. His thumb found yours blindly, as you both lay on your side, locking your hands together in the mess of it all.

When he finally eased, he pressed reverent kisses along your shoulder, softer than anything he’d given you all night.

“Please don’t go.” You whispered, pressing your back into him.

His voice came out broken, whispering into your skin through the sorrow of it all.

“I don’t want this night to end.”

You swallowed hard, tears burning again as you whispered back, “Then we’ll just keep replaying it… until even the silence remembers us.”

+

Somehow, it felt harder to get ready in the morning. Brady shoved clothes into his duffel with no hesitance, muttering about how he was finally happy to be rid of hotel food.

But you couldn’t even bring yourself to put your shoes on at the door, knowing that once you did, things were really over. The laces hung loose between your fingers as you sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets still tangled and smelling faintly of him.

Brady zipped his bag and dragged it across the floor, despite it being a shoulder bag. “You ready yet?”

You swallowed, forcing your hands to move; threading one lace, then the other, each pull feeling like it strung the goodbye tighter.

The hallway felt cruel in its quiet, the hum of the vending machine suddenly too loud. Every step toward the elevator pressed like a countdown, and when the doors finally dinged open, the sound cut through you.

The lobby was warm, parents gathering and checking out at reception. However, you couldn’t notice any of it; because he was there.

Noah sat in the chair by the fireplace, that stupid, insufferable beanie placed perfectly, elbows braced on his knees like he had been waiting. His eyes lifted the second you stepped out of the elevator, locking onto yours with a weight that stopped you mid-step.

For a beat you couldn’t move, throat tightening as it became hard to swallow.

Number nineteen rose when he saw you hesitate. He didn’t smile, not this time.

Brady blinked between you both, shoulders stiff with realization. “I’ll…uh… go grab a muffin,” he mumbled, bolting toward the breakfast table without waiting for a reply.

The moment your brother’s back turned, Noah closed the space, his hand finding yours like he had the night before, squeezing tight enough that your fingers ached. He smelled like soap; but beneath it lingered the ghost of last night, and everything you both weren’t ready to let go of.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Guess this is it.”

Your throat closed, glancing away for a moment, clawing at the sleeves of your sweater; the same one you wore all weekend with him. “I hate that it is.”

For the first time since you had met him, he looked unsure. His eyes traced your face like he was trying to memorize it, pupils wide and dark.

“I don’t want you to think…” He shook his head, exhaling hard. “Last night wasn’t just… it wasn’t just a game high, or me being reckless. This whole weekend wasn’t that. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Your chest burned. “It was real.”

His mouth twitched briefly, before he took another step forward, reaching for your face. With a hand on either side, he pulled you towards his lips; but this kiss was different to those the past couple nights. This one was soft, desperate in a kind of longing you have never tasted on someone before.

Noah’s thumb brushed your cheekbone once, his fingers shaky, before he pulled you into a hug.

His arms enveloped you, pulling you into his body. You cluched the back of his hoodie, face pressed into his chest as you breathed him in.

You swallowed hard, mumbling into his chest, “I’ll miss you.”

His chin dipped, lips brushing the crown of your head. “I’m already missing you.”

It was barely audible, though it carved deep, a promise you knew he’d never say out loud to anyone else.

Finally, with a shaky breath, he pulled back. His hands lingered at your cheeks, thumbs brushing once more as though he couldn’t stand to stop touching you.

“Seriously? In front of the muffins?!” Brady shouted from behind you.

The two of you laughed briefly, and then finally, he pulled back with a shaky breath. Noah’s hands lingered at your cheeks, thumbs brushing once more as though he couldn’t stand to stop touching you.

“I’ll find you,” he said, eyes refusing to leave yours.

And then he stepped back. His hands fell away, his shoulders squared, and he bent down to sling his hockey bag over his shoulder. You felt it in your chest as he turned toward the lobby doors, the ache of finality hollowing out your ribs as you watched his back.

Noah made it all of three steps before pausing. His head tipped, and then he turned back around.

With a tight smile pulling at your lips, you watched as the sadness still lingered on his features; but so was something else. His brow lifted with that familiar quizzical tilt, and then a slow, teasing, annoying curve of his lips lit up his face.

Noah shrugged lightly, clicking his tongue as he hitched his bag higher on one shoulder, the other hand shoved into his pocket.

“Hey. By the way…” He was quiet, teasing yet soft. “I’ve got this friend who thinks you’re pretty cute. Mind if I get your number for him?”

Your laugh cracked, rolling your eyes as you pulled out your phone with the shake of your head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

And the grin that spread across his face was the same one that started it all.

Thank you so so so much for reading. I appreciate you all immensely, and am grateful for the reblogs, comments, and love. Perhaps an epilogue would be fun. ☺️

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[sorrowsofsilence]

alright, non sleep deprived Hailey edited and cut out a lot of boring bits 🙂‍↕️ 🖤

I spent my entire morning and afternoon working through it, but it’s much better now bc 8k was waaay too long for this.

biscuit • n.s || chpt. seven

pairing: hockey boy!noah x fem!reader

words: 5.6k || read time: ~26 min || masterlist

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dom!noah (homie is a little needy and rough ok), orgasm denial, spitting, nicknames (my girl, princess), slight choking, male and female orgasm, handjob / bj (its their last night dudes, things be... intense :)

summary: Babysitting your little brother at his hockey tournament was supposed to be boring- until the quiet, older hockey boy at the pool started watching you like he had all weekend to get you where he wanted… and see how far you’d let him go.

note: damn... and just like that, this series is over. I feel sad lol. I think thats why this chapters really long; bc I just kept having things I wanted to put in, and tie it back to the whole fun weekend vibes. Thank you for all the love on this one; it really was a literal dream to write, and this filled my cup immensely. It was just so fun to live through; and I hope you enjoy this final chapter <3 Muah muah

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

The truck was still fogged when Noah shoved his sweats back into place, chest heaving.

Neither of you spoke at first, until he dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before reaching towards the door handle.

"You ready?" you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile as you walked back towards the arena. The way his thumb pressed firmly against your lower back made you shiver.

"Yeah," he said, though his voice rasped rough. Then, with a crooked smirk, "Especially with that good luck you gave me."

Before you could roll your eyes, the rink doors slid open and Jolly's voice cut across the lot.

"Noah! Quit making out with your girlfriend and get your ass inside!"

Heat shot up your neck, and you couldn't even fire back before Brady piped up behind him, almost distraught.

"Where were you? You abandoned me!"

Noah flashed them an easy grin. "Getting focused, dude. No stress, I'm sure you were in good hands.

Jolly tossed your brother a look. "The kid was raiding the vending machine and now has three bags of Skittles." His eyes darted to you, giving you a mock-sympathetic shrug.

"Hey! You weren't supposed to tell her." Brady crossed his arms while glaring at you. You shoved his shoulder as the four of you head inside, footsteps muffled by the black rubber floor

"We gotta change, warmups in ten," Noah said, pushing the tall gray door. "Wanna see what a real locker room's like before a final?"

"Old man locker room?" Brady shot back. "Gross.”

"It’s mostly fart jokes and playlists," Jolly said, slapping the cinderblock wall. "You'll love it.”

The sound hit before you even stepped inside, Folio's laugh carrying over a bass-heavy speaker thumping EDM.

Brady's eyes widened instantly, the nerves on his face melting into awe. "Holy crap. This is sick."

Matt, Folio, and Ruffilo were already scattered through the room, half-dressed, bantering loud enough to rattle the walls.

"Girl incoming!" Jolly yelled, "Make sure everyone's got pants!"

Multiple pairs of eyes darted toward you and Brady with a smirk.

"There he is!" Folio crowed from the corner, pointing his shin pads like a weapon. "Bro finally shows up. What were you doing, braiding her hair?"

Ruffilo snorted, tugging on his pads. "Nah, look at him. Guy's glowing."

"Put a shirt on before you blind me," Noah scoffed, bending down and unzipping his bag. "You clowns worried about me, or about the game?"

The room cracked up, whistles and howls bouncing off the walls, while Folio elbowed Matt, whispering, "Hm. I bet it was both."

Brady lingered just inside the doorway, eyes darting around like he'd stepped into another universe. You could practically feel his heartbeat hammering from here.

Matt tipped his chin toward him. "What's the kid staring at? Never seen a locker room before? Don't you change in here, too?"

"We aren't allowed to touch the aux," Brady blurted, voice louder than he meant. "This is insane. It's actually fun, like you guys are cool."

Folio barked a laugh, crushing his can of redbull against his thigh. "First lesson, little man. Locker room music sets the win. No good playlist, no good game."

Ruffilo leaned over with mock solemnity. "Second lesson? Superstition. Everybody's got one."

"Like... lucky socks?" Brady asked, intrigued with the wisdom he felt they were about to instill upon him.

Matt groaned. "Oh God, here we go."

Folio wagged his finger. "Laugh all you want, Matty Baby, but I've eaten the same gas station muffin before every playoff game since Bantams. Works every damn time."

"That explains so much," Ruffilo muttered.

Jolly laughed, lifting his jersey and pads to reveal a worn-out black t-shirt. "I've worn this shirt for three years every tournament game. Haven't washed it."

Matt gagged, tossing a towel over his head. "Pretty sure the shirt's playing harder than you are."

Ruffilo leaned forward, grinning as he slid his team socks over his shin pads. "What about you, rookie?"

Brady froze under the spotlight, glancing between you and them. "Uh...I guess I eat a granola bar before every game?"

"Lame," Folio declared, squirting water from his green Gatorade bottle into his mouth.

Before Brady could argue, Noah tossed him a roll of tape. "Nothing wrong with granola."

Your brother shrugged. "Ok, then what about you?"

"Me?" The brunette's eyes lifted, finding yours for a heartbeat too long, before glancing at the ground with a smile. "My good luck's covered."

The eruption was instant with Jolly's howl of laughter, and Matt pounding his foot against the floor.

Ruffilo started barking, throwing his glove at Folio, who barked back, throwing the fabric to the ground. "What a D-O-G, DAWG!"

A rush of heat washed over your face and ears, biting the inside of your cheek as you glanced in mock annoyance at number nineteen, who just chewed back a smile, taking his seat on the bench.

Brady frowned, looking between them. "What? I don't get it.”

The assistant coach then shoved through the door, clapping loudly. "Alright, let's go, Panthers. Warm-ups start in three. Get your asses moving.”

The whole room shifted, the easy banter simmering into focus. As the team moved out, you watched your player finish tugging on his gloves.

Noah stood, stick twirling once in his inked hand as he caught your eye, that smirk still pulling. "Come on, beautiful. I wanna hear you in the stands...I need you to help me win."

Before you could answer, he leaned in quick, pressing his mouth to yours in the briefest kiss; fast enough the others wouldn't clock it, but enough to leave you breathless.

"Good luck charm," he murmured with a shrug, then slung his stick over his shoulder and strode out.

You pushed Brady along, sinking into the bleachers just as Noah's number cut clean down the ice. He was loose and casual, though every line of him hummed with purpose.

“Uh- why are they posing?” Your brother asked, eyes narrowing at the boys as they began stretching.

The word almost fit when Noah and half the team dropped into deep lunges, sticks braced against the ice. His thighs stretched wide, ink flashing under rolled jerseys. Your mouth went dry.

"They're stretches," you hissed. "NHL players do it all the time."

Down on the ice, Folio's knees bounced in a ridiculous wiggle until Ruffilo whacked his stick. "Quit trying to twerk, man. Scouts are watching."

"Flexible hips, flexible player," Folio shot back.

You snorted into your sleeve, but Noah caught it. Like he couldn't stand your attention anywhere else, he coasted backward across center ice, sinking deliberately into another lunge; too smooth to be innocent. Just for you.

Then the whistle shrieked. Noah stood and tapped his stick once, smirk gone, with his shoulders squared.

Suddenly, it wasn't about the lunge, or the smiles, or even the kiss in the locker room. It was about this: the weight of expectation within the final game, the whole rink watching.

You could feel Brady bouncing back into the seat beside you, hands still damp from soap but fists pumping with energy. "Okay. Okay, this is it.”

The arena buzzed louder, stomps rattling the bleachers as the scouts' pens scratched from the balcony above.

Then the whistle blew again, and the puck dropped.

It clattered against the ice, sticks slamming as the players surged forward. The noise was instant, loud enough to rattle in your chest as you sat on the edge of your seat.

Noah didn't ease into it; he immediately threw his shoulder into the first winger that touched him, the glass vibrating from the impact. The crowd roared, stomping the bleachers.

"Holy!" Brady shouted, practically bouncing out of his seat. "Flattened pancake mode!"

You almost laughed, but Noah was already gone, blade carving the ice as he tracked the puck. He didn't need to score to make an impression; he was controlled, setting the tone and grinding the other team down until the end of his shift.

By the second period, the Panthers struck first. It was a quick cycle, Noah pinning a defenseman with sheer force, and Folio burying the rebound. The horn screamed, causing the bench of watchers and players to erupt, but Noah barely raised his arms. He tapped Folio's helmet, already gliding back to the center for faceoff.

It was almost mesmerizing, watching the way he crouched low at the dot, hunched over with his stick braced, glare locked on the opponent across from him. He wasn't the cocky, teasing player you knew. Noah was locked in, ruthless and devoted to the win.

The game built in flashes after that; a brutal faceoff win, Jolly's shot clanging off the post. Shift after shift, the Panthers suffocated their opposing team.

By the time the third period came, The Panthers were up a one-goal advantage, and the other team gambled everything, choosing to pull their goalie in place for an extra attacker. Six skaters swarmed the boys, the crowd's roar climbing while scouts scribbled in frantic bursts behind you.

With a quick slap, the puck whipped across the blue line toward the Panthers' end. Players shoved each other in chaotic bursts as their sticks hacked the ice, but in a swift moment, Noah pushed himself free, puck in his control.

Your heart hammered as his strides devoured the world in a clean, powerful glide; the empty net waiting for him ahead.

Brady leaned toward you, vibrating in his seat as he clung to your arm so tight it hurt. "Oh my god! Noah!" he screamed like Noah could hear him, shaking you hard enough to throw your body sideways. "The defender is nowhere- he's gonna-"

With the flick of his wrists, the puck sailed dead center, snapping the back of the mesh so hard it flew back out again.

Brady erupted, his jump yanking you sideways. Skittles spilled out of his pocket, rocketing to the floor with a series of tinks.

You wrapped an arm tight around your brother, laughing just as hard. The Panthers swarmed Noah in a dogpile of jerseys and shouts, relishing in their victory.

Brady gasped mid-cheer, eyes darting down. "My Skittles!" Then he whipped his head up again, voice cracking as he pumped both fists. "Never mind! He freaking did it! No one could even touch him!"

He spun toward you, grin splitting his face, jabbing at the ice. "And that's your boyfriend now!"

Heat flamed up your cheeks, crawling all the way to your nose and ears as you shoved him.

On the ice, Noah finally broke free of the pile, helmet crooked. His eyes found you like you were the only one in the arena, and his grin split wide, boyish.

Without hesitation, he ripped off his gloves, tossing them and his helmet to the ground, mouthguard shoved into his shorts. He didn't care about anything else; only about getting towards you.

Your feet carried you forward without thinking, standing right up against the boards. The crowd's roar doubled, players hollering as he closed in, eyes burning into yours.

'Come here,' he mouthed.

Then he slammed into the barrier, hands braced on either side of your ribs, and hauled you over like you weighed nothing. The second your shoes hit the ice, his mouth crashed to yours, unapologetic and scorching.

Noise exploded all around, but it only blurred into static as he kissed you with everything he had. All you could feel was Noah, holding you like he had won more than the game itself.

Your fingers clung to the back of his jersey, grazing the stitched letters of his name. You memorized the press of his tongue and the graze of his teeth, breath pulling from your lungs as he squeezed you tighter into his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, grin breathless. "You feel better than winning," he whispered.

Laughing against Noah's lips, you watched him with admiration. "You deserved that win. I'm so proud of you."

The praise undid him, his nose flushing through a faltering smirk, breath catching. "Don't say that," he rasped. "Not here. You'll kill me."

From across the rink, the glass rattled with Folio's scream. “GET A ROOM!"

Ruffilo and Matt pounded their sticks, Jolly cupping his hands as they skated around. "Save it for later, lovebirds!"

You flipped them off over Noah's shoulder, earning another roar.

And then Brady shrieked from the bleachers, horrified, his hood yanked over his head. "DISGUSTING! Stop spreading your cooties!"

Noah only ducked his head, burying his red ears against your temple, chuckling low as he muttered, "Let 'em chirp. I'm not letting you out of my arms anyway."

Eventually, the refs shooed you both towards the bench, and Noah pressed one last quick kiss to your hair before letting you slip back over the boards. He jogged down the tunnel on his skates with the others, the sound of their voices echoing after they disappeared.

It wasn't long before the team spilled into the corridor with a mix of beanies and ballcaps over their heads, faces still pink from the rush of the win.

Noah walked out beside Matt, his hockey bag dragging on wheels behind him. You watched as his eyes darted to you for a moment, before the sound of his name being called to a group of men standing next to the bleachers stole his attention.

You slowed, holding Brady back just enough to catch the way they spoke in low tones.

"Hell of a game," the scout said firmly, clapping Noah's shoulder. "We'll be in touch. Expect a call soon.”

Noah's throat worked like he was trying not to smile too wide, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

He nodded once as he reached out for the man's hand again. "Thank you, sir. I look forward to it."

The scout gave one last nod, clipboard in hand and left Noah standing frozen in the buzz of his teammates. He licked his lips before they parted wide, radiant before chewing down on them.

Matt slammed an arm around his neck, dragging him into the middle of the group. "Atta boy! Drinks on Noah tonight!"

"Pool party!" Folio howled, already tossing his cap in the air.

"Let's gooooo!" Jolly bellowed, pounding on his back.

Brady looked up at you, awe growing in his eyes. "Wait, would that mean WHL? And then maybe NHL?"

But you ignored him, mesmerized with how Noah was still looking at you, beaming in the middle of the chaos.

+

The lobby was quiet until the boys stormed through, Ruffilo the loudest, arm slung over Jolly. "Pool's still open! Victory laps incoming!"

"Victory bellyflops, you mean," Matt muttered, grinning.

Folio placed an arm around Brady. "You comin', lil dude? We'll show you how pros cannonball."

Brady lit up. "Heck yes!"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jolly tossed a towel over his shoulder. "Relax, mom. He's an honorary Panther tonight."

Noah finally shook free of Matt's chokehold, tugging his cap low. When his gaze found you, his lip curled in certainty. "Come on, princess. Don't make me celebrate without you."

The elevator was chaos as Ruffilo and Jolly bickered over cannonball form, Brady bragging about his "secret splash technique." Noah stayed pressed at your side, hand firm at your waist in claim.

By the time they burst into the pool room, shirts were flying. Matt shoved Jolly into the deep end, Brady howling with laughter before cannonballing in himself. Folio slid in after him, grinning.

"Bellyflops are a canon event!"

You stayed perched on the plastic lounge chair, shaking your head.

“You’re not going in?” Noah asked, folding his arms.

With the shake of your head, you glanced up at him, following as he dropped beside you. His knee brushed yours briefly.

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on your circus."

Noah’s smile was small and tired. For a moment, you watched the chaos before you, then turned to him.

"Crazy thing is," he said softly, knuckles brushing yours warmly, “this might be the last time we all get to do this together."

You slipped your hand over his under the lip of the chair. His fingers tightened around yours, your skin growing goosebumps from his touch.

He sucked in a breath, refusing to look in your direction as he spoke lowly. "You have no idea how hard it is not to drag you upstairs right now."

Your chest tightened, and a mix of laughs carried from the water. “Oh really?”

Noah's jaw worked, then he called over the blonde in the pool. "Yo, Matt."

He cocked his head to the side, paddling closer. "What?"

"Keep an eye on the kid," Noah said, nodding towards your brother. "Make sure he gets back to your room if we aren't here in time."

Matt smirked, giving a mock salute. "Ahhh." He wiggled his brows, "Go do your thing, lover boy. I got him."

Satisfied, Noah stood, adjusting his pants while tugging you up with him, his hand locked with yours. "He's got my boys. He’ll be fine." Noah’s stare etched into yours. "But I need you."

And this time, he didn't wait for your answer.

He hauled you toward the door, strides long, your arm straining to keep up as laughter and splashing echoed behind. The heavy pool door slid shut, cutting the noise to a muffled hum.

Noah pulled you behind him quickly, and you hurried your footsteps, trying to match his.

"You're walking so fast," you whispered breathless, half-laughing as you stumbled to keep up with his pace.

Noah shot you a look over his shoulder, his jaw clenched with impatience. "What, did you want me to fuck you here in the hallway then? Let everyone watch?"

Your breath caught, the words sparking hot in your chest. "No-"

"Then keep up." His grip crushed yours tighter, dragging you with haste.

The carpet blurred under your feet as he pulled you down the hall. When you reached your room, you fumbled with the keycard, barely slipping it into the slot before Noah's hand shot past your shoulder.

He snatched the Do Not Disturb sign, slapped it onto the knob, then shoved the door shut with his sneaker. The deadbolt and latch clicked into place, sealing you both inside, and everyone else out.

For a beat, the silence pressed heavily. Then he ripped his cap off, tossing it aside as he stalked toward you with a single-minded authority that made your stomach flip. Noah's fingers hooked into your waistband, dragging you until the back of your legs hit the bed.

Without hesitating, he shoved you down hard enough to steal the air from your lungs.

"You know what I've been thinking about since dinner?" His voice was shredded, fingers already at your button, snapping it open and dragging your zipper down.

“What’s that?” You hummed, eyeing him intensely.

"Finally shoving my cock inside you tonight."

The blunt filth of it sparked heat straight between your legs. You grinned up at him as you shoved your jeans down yourself, peeling your shirt over your head. As he stood before the bed, he didn't lean down to kiss you; he just loomed, eyes locked on yours through the steady heave of his chest.

"I've been waiting all weekend." His hand slid lower, curling into your thong before snapping the band against your hip. "You're not fucking ready for what I'm about to do to you."

He grabbed your wrists, dragging them to the hem of his shirt, enticing you to tug the fabric.

"Take it off."

You peeled it slowly, adjusting yourself on your knees as you raised it inch by inch, revealing ink and muscle.

"I love that you listen so well." His voice dropped to a murmur as he guided your hands lower. His sweats hung dangerously low, and he pressed your palm against him, forcing you to feel the hardness of him waiting for you.

Noah held your hand in place, grinding into it, a breathy laugh spilling from his throat as you stroked him through the fabric. You moaned, smiling as you touched him; and your pulse shook when you shoved his waistband down, cock springing free.

Noah caught your chin, forcing your gaze up when it wanted to drop to his arousal. His mouth curled into something sinful.

"Get me nice and wet," his thumb brushed your jaw almost tenderly while he twitched in front of you. "Can you do that for me, baby?"

You nodded before you could think, sliding down onto your stomach, nearly hanging over the bed.

His hand guided yours at first, showing you how to wrap around him, palm dragging from base to tip until slick smeared your fingers. His head tipped back, veins straining in his neck.

"That's it. Fuck, just like that. Make me messy."

Working him steadily, his heat was heavy in your hand, before you leaned in with your tongue. Flattening it against his length, you licked him slowly, savouring the way his smile cracked through his groan. His cock gleamed in the dim light with every pass, wet and wanting under your mouth.

"Perfect," Noah gritted, brows drawn as he ground the length of himself against you. The swollen head pressed into your clit until your back arched.

Every thrust dragged the soaked fabric over your nerves, unbearable friction leaving you shaking. However, his hand pinned your hips when you tried to buck forward.

"Not yet," he laughed, slow and merciless. "You'll come when I want you to."

Your thighs trembled, moaning in protest. He hooked the band of your panties taut, pulling it snug between your folds as he rubbed along the stretched fabric. The blunt head caught your desire again and again until your face contorted in pleasure.

"That's it," he praised, eyes locked on your face. "Soaking through for me. You love it, don't you? My cock ruining your pretty little panties?"

He leaned down, spit glistening as it hit your cunt, making the lace even wetter. Your nails bit into your thighs as you held yourself open for him. When he rolled his tip just right, your body broke; hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm ripped through you, a flow of curses coming from your mouth.

"Fuck yes," Noah groaned, shoving the thong aside at last. Your release coated his cock as he dragged the head through your folds, smearing himself in your mess.

"And I didn't even fuck you yet." His laugh was half awe and mockery at how easily you fell apart for him.

Then, with a growl, he lined up and drove forward, the stretch of him instant. The first push of his body stole the air from your lungs, before he drove deeper, filling you.

"Jesus Christ, Noah." You gasped, clinging to the sheets, then his arms, then anything you could reach as he stayed buried inside you.

"Relax," he stuttered, broken, hips flush against yours. Sweat beaded at his temple, abs pulled taut as he forced himself to hold still. "You feel like you were made for me. My cock fits so perfectly inside your pussy."

He braced above you, gasping and pulling back slowly before slamming forward, the sound of your bodies colliding obscene in the quiet hotel room.

The rhythm he built came fast and needy, every thrust deep enough to rattle the mattress. His teeth clenched, head bowed, and eyes locked on the way he split you open, mesmerized by the glossy stretch around him.

"Look at that," Noah groaned, chuckling while driving harder. "Taking me so deep...God, you're swallowing me whole."

His thumb dug into your hip, dragging you onto him with each thrust until your thighs quivered, wet slaps echoing through the air.

You reached for his face, trying to anchor him, but his gaze stayed glued below, lips parted in desperation.

"You have the most perfect pussy," he panted, hips stuttering as he revelled in the sight of you.

As your hand slid between your thighs to chase the edge, your walls tightened around his body. "How do you feel so good? I can't-"

"Yes, you can." His eyes finally snapped up, latching onto yours through molten lust. "You're gonna come for me, on my cock, because I need to see you cream around me, Y/N. Right fucking now."

Noah's hand left your hip, sliding up your torso until his fingers curled around your throat. He didn't squeeze; he just pressed you down, claiming you and forcing your eyes to stay locked on him.

"Eyes on me," Noah demanded, slamming deeper, his cock dragging against every nerve. "I want to watch you break while I'm inside you."

A choked laugh caught your lips while your body shook under the relentless thrusts and weight of his hand. He pinned you to the bed, the feeling of his hands devouring you and pushing your climax. The release snapped suddenly and brutally, your desire clenching tight.

"Fuck yes," he growled, eyes burning into yours as you shattered beneath him. "That's my girl. My perfect fucking girl."

A cry tore free despite his hand around your throat, body vibrating with the force of it. But Noah didn't slow; if anything, your orgasm spurred him on, thrusts growing frantic while chasing the squeeze of you milking him.

Overstimulation burned through you, thighs trying to snap shut, but his grip at your throat pinned you wide open.

"I told you that you weren't ready." He said, hair falling wildly over his eyes. "And I'm still not done with you."

He released your throat only to flip you onto your stomach, dragging you up by the thighs and slamming back into you with a growl. The sudden depth made you cry out, muffled against the pillow as he raked his fingers down your spine, gripping your ass and kneading the skin roughly.

Noah groaned, leaning until his chest was heavy across your back, his arm looping under your throat, hauling you upright. The chokehold pinned you to him while he drove in from behind, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. "You're mine, you hear me? Mine."

"Make me yours fully, Noah," you gasped, clutching his forearm while your head fell back onto his shoulder. When your legs buckled, he caught you, flipping you onto your back again in one brutal motion.

He pulled out quickly, crawling over you, catching your lips in a filthy kiss as he hauled you onto his lap, forcing you down on his cock.

Straddling him, you sank slowly, breath shuddering as your hands spread across the ink of his chest. His grip locked on your hips instantly, grinding you harder, making you feel every inch.

"God, you look so pretty up there," he muttered through bared teeth, running his hands up your body until gripping your chest, squeezing your skin.

You lifted in a shaky rhythm, riding him as best you could through your aching body, but it wasn't enough, and Noah's patience snapped. With a guttural sound, he thrust upward, bouncing you in his lap with violent precision.

"Pathetic," he scoffed, dragging you down harder. "You teased me all weekend and thought you could just take your time? That's not how this works." His hand caught the back of your neck, yanking you down and into another kiss, tongue owning yours.

"Then prove to me it's been worth the wait," you whispered against his lips.

His body snapped harder, breaking you into whimpers as he answered with action instead of words. Your nails dug into his shoulders, head tipping back in a plea. "Noah, please cum for me. I need it."

His exhale ripped out like you knocked the air from his chest, his pace faltering before coming back even more violent. His teeth grazed your jaw, trailing down your throat before landing on your collarbone.

"You. Don't. Get. It." Each word followed a thrust. "I'm not stopping till you can't say my name without crying. You want me to cum? Beg louder, princess."

Your voice cracked. "Noah, please. Please, I'm begging...I can't, I need-."

"That's it," he snarled, mouth hot against your neck, sucking until you knew he would leave a mark. His pace turned punishing, every snap of his hips so deep the world spun. His arms locked you to his chest, hand tangled at the back of your head, forcing you through another orgasm that ripped you apart.

You shook around him, gasping his name like a prayer.

"Again," he growled, tongue circling your pulse as he hid in the crook of your neck. "Beg me like you mean it. I'll paint you full if you beg loud enough, pretty girl."

The name wrecked you, dragging another climax from your body. Your thighs trembled where they straddled him, desire clenching so hard his rhythm faltered.

You sobbed his name, giving Noah exactly what he wanted as your limbs gave way.

"Not done," he rasped, hauling your mouth to his before flipping you onto your side, still buried deep. His chest pressed to your back, breath ragged at your shoulder, while spooning you. "You're giving me every goddamn second before I lose you."

His arm clamped around your middle, holding you fused together as he trembled. Seconds later, his body stuttered, groaning against your neck as he finally spilled inside you, flooding you full.

Even when you shifted, he wouldn't let go; still grunting through the aftershock, arms wrapped around you in claim.

The room hushed to nothing but tangled breaths and twisted sheets. Sweat slicked your skin where it met his, and his fingers brushed yours blindly, locking your hands together in the mess of it all.

When Noah finally eased, he pressed a few reverent kisses along your shoulder, soft.

"Please don't go," you whispered, pressing back into him.

His reply broke against your skin. "I don't want this night to end."

Tears burned, but you whispered back anyway. "Then we'll just keep replaying it... until even the silence remembers us."

+

Somehow, it felt harder to get ready in the morning. Brady shoved clothes into his duffel with no hesitation, muttering about finally being rid of hotel food.

But you couldn't even bring yourself to put your shoes on at the door, knowing that once you did, things were really over. The laces hung loose between your fingers as you sat on the bed, the sheets still tangled and smelling faintly of him.

Brady zipped his bag and dragged it across the floor. "You ready yet?"

You swallowed, forcing your hands to move. Threading each lace, the pull only tightened the goodbye.

The hallway felt cruel in its quiet, the hum of the vending machine suddenly too loud. Every step toward the elevator pressed like a countdown; and when you made it to the lobby, you chewed back the lump that grew in your throat.

Noah sat in the chair by the fireplace, that stupid, insufferable beanie in place, elbows braced on his knees. His eyes lifted the second you stepped out of the elevator, locking onto yours with a weight that stopped you mid-step.

For a beat, you couldn't breathe, and then he rose through your hesitation.

This was the first time he didn't smile when seeing you.

Brady blinked between you both, shoulders stiff. "I'll...uh...go grab a muffin," he mumbled, bolting toward the buffet without waiting for a reply.

The moment your brother's back turned, Noah stepped forward and closed the space. His hand immediately found yours, squeezing tight enough that your fingers ached. He smelled like soap and cologne; but beneath it lingered the ghost of last night, and everything you both weren't ready to let go of.

"Hey," he whispered. "Guess this is it."

Your throat closed, glancing away for a moment, clawing at the sleeves of your sweater. "I hate that it is."

For the first time since you had met him, he looked unsure. His eyes traced your face, pupils wide and dark.

"I don't want you to think..." He shook his head, exhaling hard. "Last night wasn't just... it wasn't just a game high, or me being reckless. This whole weekend wasn't that. You know that, right?"

"I know." Your chest burned. "It was real."

His mouth twitched, then he stepped forward, cupping your face. The kiss he gave you wasn't like all the others the past couple days. It was soft, delicate, and desperate; a kind of longing you had never tasted before.

His thumb brushed your cheekbone, fingers shaking, before he pulled you into his chest. His arms locked tight around you, and you clutched the back of his hoodie to hold him there forever.

"I'll miss you." You mumbled into him.

His chin dipped, lips brushing the crown of your head. "I'm already missing you."

And when he pulled back, his hands lingered on your cheeks, unwilling to let go.

"Seriously? In front of the muffins?!" Brady shouted from behind you.

The two of you laughed briefly, and then Noah drew one last breath, eyes refusing to leave yours.

"I'll find you.”

His hands fell away, arms sunk, and he bent down to sling his hockey bag over his shoulder. You felt it in your chest as he turned toward the lobby doors, the ache of finality hollowing your chest.

Noah made it all of three steps before pausing, head tipping as he turned back around.

With a tight smile pulling at your lips, you watched as the sadness lingered on his features, but then there was something else. His brow lifted swiftly in that familiar quizzical tilt, and then his lips curled in his signature agonizingly annoying smirk.

He shrugged lightly, clicking his tongue as he hitched his bag higher on one shoulder, the other hand shoved into his pocket.

"Hey. By the way..." He was quiet for a moment, teasing yet soft. "I've got this friend who thinks you're pretty cute. Mind if I get your number for him?"

You blinked then cracked a laugh, pulling out your phone with the shake of your head. "God, you're ridiculous."

And the grin that spread across his face was the same one that started it all.

Thank you so so so much for reading. I appreciate you all immensely, and am grateful for the reblogs, comments, and love. Perhaps an epilogue would be fun. ☺️

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