#rigyanni

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The wall of scent hit Jamie like an actual, physical wall the moment he stepped into the locker room. He blinked, taken aback, and then swung his head to try and pinpoint the source.

While he wasn’t the last guy to arrive, he definitely wasn’t the first either, and the room was already busy and loud. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first glance. Nothing except that scent. Warm and bright and sweet, clearly Omegian. Familiar, too, though Jamie wasn’t quite sure who it was coming from.

The options were pretty limited. As progressive as an organization as the Kraken was, they still only boasted three Omegas on the team. Vince, Yanni, and Canner.

Jared was sitting at his stall, focused on getting his gear on. Vince and Yanni, on the other hand, seemed to be chatting by Vince’s stall, while Adam listened on with a simultaneously flat and indulgent expression. When Jamie approached, both Omegas paused and turned to give him a smile. Vince’s was relaxed but a little distant, Yanni’s bright as ever. His cheeks were flushed and just standing next to him, Jamie could tell he was the source of the scent. Bright. Cherry red and lush. Edible.

“Everything okay?” Jamie managed around his suddenly dry tongue.

He got twin expressions of confusion in response. “Uh, yeah?” Vince said, glancing back at his Alpha like Adam might know what was happening. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“It’s just- uh-” Jamie rubbed at the back of his neck and unintentionally copied Vince. When he made eye contact with Adam, the other Alpha raised a silent eyebrow. “You don’t…smell that?”

The small group glanced between each other and Jamie cringed in embarrassment. It couldn’t be in his head, right? But no, he could practically taste it on his tongue, and his body was slowly starting to respond.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Someone,” he said, trying to be diplomatic, then cringed again because that really wasn’t going to help anyone. “Yanni,” he corrected, “I think you’re going into heat.”

Pale eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “What the fuck?” Then he yelped in surprise as Vince leaned down and stuck his nose under Yanni’s jaw, sniffing loudly. “Dude! Personal space!”

Vince snorted and then backed off. “Remind me who’s stolen underwear you’re wearing right now? And-” Adam rumbled a low, annoyed sound, cutting his mate off. “They better not be the pair I just bought you.”

Fluttering his lashes, Yanni blew him a kiss. “They’re not!”

Vince rolled his eyes. “As I was saying. Jamie’s right, you’re in pre-heat. But like, the super early stages.” His expression was contemplative as he eyed Jamie. “Interesting that you caught it even before I did.”

“I am not going into-”

“Are you three planning on joining us on the ice any time soon?” an annoyed voice called from behind them.

“Shit,” Yanni and Vince cursed simultaneously.

Beating a hasty retreat, Jamie finally went to his stall to put his stuff down and change out. He kind of wanted to tell Yanni not to practice. He really wanted to tell Yanni that, actually. Like in the instinctual Alpha-protecting-his-Omega way that he so very rarely experienced. It was a startingly primal emotion.

He didn’t even want to touch the fact that he’d scented Yanni out before anyone else. Because that either meant they were incredibly compatible, Jamie was hyper-aware of the smaller man, or both. Neither of those things boded well for him.

Still, he couldn’t help the brief fantasy of grabbing Yanni by the nape of his neck and marching him out of the locker room and to his car. He’d take the Omega home, get him comfortable in Jamie’s bed, bring him every blanket and pillow in the house so he could build his nest. And when it was complete and the heat was truly sinking in, Jamie would crawl up into it with Yanni, pin him down panting and whining and needy, and-

Vince, Adam, and Yanni all clomped past in their skates and jerseys and Jamie was yanked out of his thoughts. Shit, he didn’t want to be the last one on the ice but he was going to be. He thew on the rest of his gear as quickly as he could and followed after them.

Twenty minutes later, when one of the coaches called Yanni over and subsequently sent him home, Jamie was mostly relieved.

Mostly.

Partly, he had to fight the urge to race after the Omega and bundle him up, take him home. It wasn’t his place but fuck if he didn’t want it to be.

Jamie soon gives in to his instincts, sliding down the wall to sit next to the distressed omega.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Yeah, very believable. But it’s Yanni he’s dealing with – the guy who will smile with a bloody mouth and laugh when he’s hurting. Jamie can’t remember ever seeing him looking so… fragile.

Contemplating his options, Jamie surreptitiously opens his jacket so his scent can flow more freely. With the lack of any kind of blockers today, not even neutralizing spray, he hopes the scents of pack and calm alpha will soothe his friend. The rustling of the paper bag gives Jamie another idea, so he pulls out the triple chocolate muffin.

Knowing Yanni after over three seasons of playing together, Jamie doesn’t bother offering the omega first. It will only lead to protests about how he doesn’t need pity and how chocolate is such a cliché when it comes to omegas and blah blah blah. Forgoing those protests, Jamie breaks off a big piece and shoves it in his own mouth. Yanni doesn’t move, doesn’t look, but when Jamie breaks off another piece and loosely holds it in his direction, Yanni takes it with hardly any hesitation. Can’t complain about clichés when the big, strong alpha cheats right next to him.

They sit in silence like that for a while, sharing Jamie’s muffin piece by piece.

“Got dumped today. Again.”

💙 Read the full fic or listen to it on ao3 💙

This fic covers/is part of four events:

💙 The @hockeybigbang 2025 - thank you for running this Big Bang, @wjgravity was an amazing partner 🥰

💙 The @12daysofchristmas challenge - I started writing this fic and eleven more last year, so they mainly fit last year's prompts. All the other fics will still fit perfectly this year's days (or the available alt prompts). Sadly though, this first one doesn't, so it falls a bit out of line... but meh.

💙 The @ao3tagbingo - this fic covers the square Courtship - (it was that prompt that thankfully gave me the idea for the entire plot in the first place!)

💙 The @flufftober fluff bingo - this fic covers the square Hoodie

When you’re in the NHL, the summer is full of two things. Well, three things really, but everyone takes vacations in the summer, not just hockey players, so Jamie doesn’t really think that counts. Anyway, the two things sort of unique to hockey player summers are the grind of summer training and summer weddings.

Yes, lots of people get married in the summer, so lots of people have to go to summer weddings. But it's nothing compared to the rate at which hockey players do it.

The thing is, the regular season is just so long. And even if it’s a long shot, you have to hope you’ll make playoffs, so that’s more time set aside. When you get down to it, there’s really only two months—July and August—for players to gather up their friends and loved ones and tie the knot. If you’re on a team with a lot of guys of marriageable age, all your summer weekends can end up spoken for before you even realize it. And that’s not even accounting for friendships that persist from juniors, or from previous teams, or even from childhood.

If you’re lucky, you find ways to make it all fit. But if you’re Jamie this summer—if you’re unlucky—they all overlap, every weekend double booked or more. You have to dash from event to event, making the ones you can, and apologizing for the ones you can’t. 

So he’s here in Florida, bearing a garment bag and backpack and nothing else, tired and rumpled from the airport, smoothing himself to a suit to stand as a groomsman in 20 minutes for a friend from juniors who ended up on the Lightning. The other groomsmen are all dressed already, hair slicked into place, queueing near the door.

“Hurry up, bud,” the best man shouts back towards Jamie. Jamie slides a comb through his curls, joins back of the line, and then lets the groom herd him into his proper spot in the middle of the pack. 

“You’re getting here pretty late,” whispers the guy in front of him in a sultry quebecois accent, half turned around to flash a crooked smile his way. “Another wedding?”

“Yeah,” Jamie mumbles back. He’d say more, but he’s distracted, his eyes stuck on the way the guy’s suit stretches over his shoulders, following the line down, and the guy laughs. 

He’s gotta be a hockey player with those thighs and that ass—Jamie immediately blushes and lifts his gaze to meet the guy’s piercing blue eyes, embarrassed to be caught checking him out—but he doesn’t recognize him. He’s almost a foot shorter than Jamie, small but broad, with a mischievous smile and curls that look so soft Jamie has to repress the urge to reach out and touch them.

“I’m Yanni,” he offers with another charming smile. “I play for the Bolts. And you’re Jamie, oui? You play for the Stars.”

“Yeah! Uh, yes,” Jamie stammers out, cheeks hot from an embarrassing blush. 

The line shuffles forwards, and the faint music from the lawn out back swells with anticipation. The groomsman behind him coughs, and Jamie’s limbs start jerking him forward without his input. Whoops, he really should pay better attention to the line. It’s go time.

“I guess it’s true what they say,” Yanni whispers as they reach the back door, awaiting their cue.

“What?” Jamie asks, distracted again, but this time it’s legit; he’s trying to pay attention to the groom so he knows when it’s his turn to walk out and join his bridesmaid partner for the ceremony.

Yanni pinches his butt. When Jamie looks down in shock, he winks. “Everything’s bigger in Texas. Find me after the ceremony!”

.

“-and the thing about the set is that it wasn’t built for half the shit they used it for!” Yanni enthused. Loudly. Energetically. And again, for what was probably the fourth or fifth time.

Jamie sighed and rested his head against the back of the couch as his boyfriend continued his little rant. At least it was taking a slightly different turn this time, new information peppered in with the stuff Yanni had already told him before they’d even put the damn movie on.

Truthfully, Jaime couldn’t be that upset with him. They were awaiting word from Yanni’s agent about a new deal, and he was beside himself with nerves. Jamie would never begrudge him that anxiety because he knew it all too well himself. Hell, they had stayed in and put on one of Yanni’s favorite movies as an effort to try and help him relax.

Clearly, that wasn’t working.

When Yanni began telling him about the backstory of one of the characters—a backstory they’d literally just seen on screen—Jamie decided enough was enough. He was a patient man, but some days he thought Yanni could push even saints to their limits. Jamie had probably reached his own threshold about thirty minutes ago, and had just been using the intervening time to plan.

“Yanni,” he said, cutting into and stopping the onslaught.

His boyfriend blinked those bright, pale eyes at him, expression curious. “Yeah?”

Jamie spread his legs on the couch and then pointed to the bit of floor between his feet. “Kneel.”

It clearly took Yanni a moment to process, but then his face screwed up in irritation. “Seriously? I love this movie!”

“And I didn’t say you couldn’t watch it,” Jamie replied patiently. “I told you to kneel.”

Truthfully, Yanni was already moving. He might bitch, but he’d yet to ignore an order from Jamie. When he was in position on his knees, he rolled his eyes and very deliberately dug the points of his elbows into Jamie’s thighs. “Now what?” he asked dryly.

“Now I’m going to give you something better to do with your mouth than spout off the same five trivia facts over and over again,” Jamie told him. It took only a moment’s work to dig himself out of his sweatpants, pulling the band under his balls. He wasn’t hard, but he didn’t need to be.

Yanni looked offended. “I like this movie!” he repeated, even as Jamie carded his fingers into his hair and tugged him closer.

“I know you do, baby. But you’re clearly crawling out of your skin. Come here and let me give you something to focus on.”

Looking skeptical, Yanni nonetheless dropped his head and brought his mouth to Jamie’s cock. Jamie tugged gently on his hair before he could make contact. “No sucking,” he warned. “Just hold it in your mouth for me, okay?”

“Fucking weirdo,” Yanni muttered. But his face was starting to flush that lovely shade of pink, and his lips closed softly, obediently around Jamie’s cock. Jamie sighed and pet Yanni’s hair back from his face.

“Good boy,” he praised, and settled back against the couch. “Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

The couch was at an angle from the television, so Yanni could indeed still watch the movie if he wanted to. And he did at first, eyes flicking up to the screen, mouth soft and sweet, tongue occasionally undulating as he tried to swallow his pooling saliva. But within minutes his eyelids were drooping and he was instead resting his round cheek against Jamie’s thigh. His body had gone loose, all that nervous, kinetic energy now funneled into the barest of little kitten licks and a faint suckling motion.

Pressure around Jamie's stomach had him sighing and carefully setting aside the soldering iron in his hands.

"That's dangerous, you know," he said with exasperation. It was a useless endeavour, but he still added on, "What if you'd startled me and I'd burned myself?"

"Then I'd kiss it better," Yanni said, predictably. His face was pressed between Jamie's shoulder blades. Sleep warm even in the chill morning air, he rubbed it there with a little content noise.

"I have it set to 300°."

"Mm," Yanni agreed, apparently unperturbed about his husband's potential injury. "So low. Are you working on the straps?"

Jamie had been. The leather on his workstation was slowly forming into the woven handles he was eventually going to attach to the extravagant trunk Yanni was making. It was a small way he could participate in his husband's hobby when he didn't have quite as much, basically none really, woodworking experience.

"I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

"And miss you rocking the Pacific Northwest look?" Yannis hands rubbed appreciatively up and down Jamie's flannel covered chest. "Never. Besides, why would I stay in bed if you're not there to cuddle me?"

"I think you just want me to come make breakfast."

His husband hummed. "Maybe. Is that offer on the table?"

"No, my unfinished leather work is," Jamie said jokingly, rapping his knuckles against the workbench. That earned him an exasperated huff and a tight squeeze around his middle. "Yeah, I'll come in and cook."

"Good. I keep telling you that little space heater doesn't do enough to keep you warm out here."

Grabbing Yanni's wrists, Jamie disentangled himself from the hold. "We're Canadian and this is Seattle. It's not that cold."  He stepped away to flip said heater off, then turned and took in his husband. Who was wearing nothing but pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that was obviously Jamie's because it was falling off one shoulder. His house slippers were slightly damp with morning dew, and now that he wasn't pressed up against Jamie for warmth he'd crossed his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders. Jamie rolled his eyes. "Unless you're dressed like that, I guess. C'mon, let's go inside before you start losing any toes."

Yanni narrowed his eyes, but then brightened a moment later. "Pancakes?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Yes!" Yanni crowed, then did that thing he'd learned to do where he kind of shimmied up Jamie's body in order to give him a kiss. When he dropped back down to the ground he was already moving, complaining loudly about the cold and how he'd woken up alone the entire way from the work shed back to the house.

“Fuck yes!” screams Yanni into Jamie’s face as he crashes into him for the celly. Yanni’s hand goes around him to his ass; Jamie’s pretty sure he squeezes a handful of his breezers, but he can’t really feel it. “Hell of a fucking shot!”

Jamie curls an arm around Yanni’s shoulders in response and smiles. He leans down to bump his helmet into Yanni’s—the most affection they can show on the ice—but before he makes contact, Turbo and Karts smash into the hug, pressing Jamie hard back into the boards.

“You’re welcome for setting that up,” says Turbo with a wink. “My pass was perfect, eh boys?”

“It was great,” concedes Karts, “but it was all Rig’s shot that did it!”

“Hardest shot on the team,” crows Monty as he completes the circle. “Fuckin’ beauties, all of you.”

Jamie blushes at the attention. He might be over six and a half feet and 250 lbs of professional hockey player, but Yanni’s hungry, pleased look makes him feel precious. Wanted. Cherished.

He doesn’t score often enough that he’ll ever get sick of this. Especially not when Yanni’s right there next to him, when Yanni’s the one who passed him the puck when he had an open lane to shoot. When Yanni’s openly ogling him.

“It was all your pass, baby,” Jamie says, in what he calls his bedroom voice but the ex firebirds all call his sex voice. Karts makes a retching noise but Yanni looks up at him front under his eyelashes and licks his lips.

“Save it for later,” says Turbo with an eye roll as he pushes them towards the bench. “You can be gross and sappy to each other then, when we don’t have to see.”

“Maybe we’ll do it in the middle of the locker room,” says Yanni thoughtfully. “Then you’d all get to watch.”

“Or showers,” adds Jamie. “You’d all be lucky to see how good Yanni takes it.”