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pairings: luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, trevor zegras x reader, mentions of cole & quinn
summary: a debate on "team jack" vs "team quinn" reveals a bigger secret to the reader
warnings!! cursing, mentions of sex, objectifying
a/n: hi my friends! thank you for your patience with this series, and i deeply apologize for my absence :( this is just a small story to kick things back into motion. i'm writing more with quinn rn so lmk what u think!!
wc: 3.6k
You sat at the kitchen table in Jack and Luke’s apartment, laptop open. You’d been writing an article for a newspaper in Vancouver since noon–the clock read 7. Jack had gone out to run errands an hour ago, and Luke had been napping since 5. It was rainy, warm, and your music was playing faintly in the background. It would’ve been perfect if Trevor wasn’t sitting across from you shouting every two seconds.
“So…what are you doing?” He asked, his voice far too loud for being only 4 feet away.
Your eyes flicked up, a flat expression on your face. “The same thing I've been doing for the past seven hours. I’m working.”
He groaned, twirling his finger in a bowl of popcorn that sat at the center of the table. “So,” He started. You rolled your eyes. “What’s your favorite part of New York?” You said nothing, typing aggressively. Trevor smirked, leaning forward. “I bet you wish you were in Vancouver with Quinn.” You looked up at him, a rude expression on your face.
You shook your head, returning your eyes to the computer screen. “Can you stop being annoying?”
“You’re just mad ‘cause I'm right.” He looked over, checking for a reaction, but you were too zoned in. Without missing a beat, he leaned over further and slammed your laptop shut.
“Hey!”
“Stop being lame.” He said, staring you dead in the eyes. “You’ve been working for hours.”
Your expression softened as you leaned back, crossing your arms. “Fine. What do you want?” Your voice was flat, slightly aggressive.
Trevor smiled, sitting back down in his chair. “Are you team Quinn or team Jack?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “This is so stupid.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t even know what that means!”
He raised his eyebrows, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “You know exactly what it means,” You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. Trevor smiled. “I’m team Quinn.”
You opened your eyes slowly, leveling him with a glare. “You would be.”
He grinned, obnoxiously proud of himself, slouching further into the chair like he’d just made some profound declaration. The soft patter of rain against the windows accented his self-satisfied silence. Your laptop sat shut in front of you, the article staring back at you from behind your eyelids like a ghost you couldn’t shake. But you knew Trevor wasn’t going to let you get back to it. Not yet.
“Alright,” you said dryly, brushing your fingers across the smooth lid of your laptop. “Fine. Entertain me, genius. Why team Quinn?”
Trevor lit up. “Easy. Jack’s too…Jack. He’s charming, good-looking, funny. He can make you think he’s made for you, but we all know he gets around. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you.” You looked away for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Quinn? Quinn’s your husband. He sends you flowers, he warms your towel in the dryer, he cleans up your messes, he cooks for you. Need I say more?”
You stared at him, half-baffled, half-amused. He wasn’t wrong, or so you thought. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Luke came out of his room. His hair was ruffled under his hoodie, eyes tired as he took a seat at the table. “I just listened to that whole spiel,” He looked over at Trevor. “You’re wrong.”
Trevor turned toward Luke like a dog scenting prey, grin already locked and loaded. “I’m sorry—what?”
Luke gave a lazy blink, voice still scratchy with sleep. “You’re wrong,” he repeated, tone flat as the rain tapped on the windows. “Quinn’s not a husband. He’s a hallucination.” You glanced between them, trying and failing to hide your smirk behind a hand.
Trevor looked personally offended. “Hallucination? You’ve gotta be joking.” Luke let out a deep breath, rolling his eyes as he stood from his chair. Silently, he walked into his room, returning with a small white board. He stood in front of the table, white board facing both you and Trevor.
“Wow.” You said, raising your eyebrows.
Luke cleared his throat. “So, there are three groups when it comes to Bunny.” He drew each of the boy’s numbers on the white board, grouped together variously. Trevor looked over at you, suspicion written all over his face. “First, we have our ‘would never’s’. That’s me and Trevor.” Trevor cheered, giving Luke a fist bump. Luke sniffled his nose before starting again. “Then we have the ‘delulus’. As you can see, Cole stands alone in this category.” You pouted. “And of course, the ‘future husband potentials’. Quinn and Jack.”
“I’m sorry– ‘future husbands’?” You asked. Trevor shushed you quickly, now fully invested in Luke’s presentation.
“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” Luke continued, sending you a glare. “Sure, Quinn can act like a husband. He can bring you flowers, hold you, give you comfort, treat you like a princess—but Quinn has had girlfriends. And, what happens when Quinn gets a girlfriend?” Luke erased Quinn’s number, moving it next to Trevor’s. “He pretends like you don’t exist.” You tried your best not to frown, but you were dying a little bit on the inside. “Quinn is able to treat another woman the exact same way he treats you. He’s capable of having that level of intimacy with anyone else.”
“Intellectual.” Trevor said, nodding his head.
“Uh, I’m not done.” Luke pointed at Trevor before returning to his white board. “I’ll say it straight up, Jack’s an asshole. It’s all ‘fuck bitches, get money’ with him. But we all see the way he stares at you on the lake, we see the way he tries to get everyone out of the room so it’s just the two of you, we see the way he lingers at your door before walking to his room. Jack calls you to take care of him when he’s sick, he’ll cry in front of you, he acts like an idiot around you, and Jack doesn’t act like that around anyone. He’s not afraid to be himself around you.” Your eyes softened a bit as Luke stared into them. “Yeah, he fucks around, but it’s been proven he’s not capable of that same level of intimacy with anyone else but you. When you have a boyfriend, how does he act?”
You hesitated for just a moment. “...Like a douchebag.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Luke nodded his head. “He’s jealous.” Trevor was frozen mid-popcorn toss, his smug little smirk caught somewhere between confusion and horror. You, meanwhile, just stared at Luke, lips slightly parted, as if his monologue had peeled open a window in your chest you hadn’t realized was painted shut. The rain outside had picked up, fat drops thudding against the window like punctuation. Dramatic, even for the weather. Luke casually set the whiteboard down on the counter, like he hadn’t just dropped a thesis more emotionally loaded than your last three relationships. He yawned, turned to grab a LaCroix from the fridge, and cracked it open with the indifference of someone who didn’t just derail your emotional stability.
Trevor clapped slowly, looking around the room. Luke raised an eyebrow as you turned to face Trevor. He looked at Luke, a smile on his face. “Wow. That was great.” He said, letting out a laugh. “What about Team Luke?”
Luke froze mid-air, eyes widened. “W-What?”
“C’mon,” Trevor stood up, grabbing the whiteboard. He erased Luke’s number that was grouped with his. “You don’t belong here,” He rewrote the number next to Cole’s. “You’re right here.” You furrowed your brows, curious as to where he was going. “I think you’re bullshitting.”
“No-” Luke started, cut off quickly by Trevor.
“You’re trying to break the pact.”
Your head flicked over to Luke in an instant, even more confused than before. “The pact?” You asked, tilting your head down.
Luke scoffed, looking back at Trevor. “What are you even talking about?”
Trevor smiled, walking closer to Luke. “You know that if Sunny heard your little proposal, she’d go running to Jack. We both know Jack would never say no to any woman, let alone his princess. He’d bang, leave, and the pact would be broken,” He crossed his arms, leaning closer. “Leaving little Lukey an opening to slide in with no consequence.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Luke finally said, voice louder than usual. “I’m not trying to break the pact!”
You slammed your hands on the table, standing up quickly. “Someone tell me what the fuck the pact is, or I swear to god I will lose my shit!”
Luke sent Trevor a glare, but Trevor ignored it. “The pact that states none of the guys are allowed to fuck you.”
“What?!” You yelled. Your eyes widened as you took in the severity of the situation. “Oh my god.”
“Bunny-”
“No! Don’t Bunny me! When?” You asked, looking at Trevor.
“Huh?”
You rolled your eyes in frustration. “When did it start?”
Trevor threw a piece of popcorn in his mouth, sitting back down in his seat. “Summer you grew boobs.” You groaned in frustration, throwing your hands up. “I had to implement it! Okay? It was annoying how every single one of them were competing for your attention. I was getting no attention! And that was the summer I learned how to do a backflip!”
Your eyes widened, turning your attention back to Luke. “Oh my god.”
Luke shook his head. “No, no. It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what she thinks!” Trevor yelled, looking at Luke like he was stupid.
Luke got closer to Trevor, yelling back at him. “It’s not about the pact, it’s about the bet!” Silence detonated in the middle of the room like a bomb. Even the rain seemed to pause, stunned by the sudden twist in dialogue. You blinked. Twice. Once for pact, and once for bet. There was always something new with these idiots.
“I’m sorry,” you said slowly, like you were trying to read a warning label. “What bet?”
Trevor turned in his chair like a villain in a swivel office seat, smugness reloading at full speed. “Oh ho hell no, you’re not blaming this on the bet. Quinn will kill you.”
“I am blaming the bet,” Luke snapped, stepping closer, eyes burning. “Because you made it.”
“I did not make it—Cole made it!” Trevor stood now, waving his hands in defense.
“And you agreed! You shook on it!”
“So did you!”
Luke looked like he was considering throwing his LaCroix at Trevor’s forehead. You looked like you were trying not to throw up. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Someone better start talking, or I swear to god I’m walking into traffic.”
Trevor groaned. “Fine. Okay. Last summer. Cole got drunk—obnoxiously drunk—and said, quote, ‘I bet Quinn’s the first one to fold.’”
“Fold,” you echoed, horrified. “Like I’m a game of poker?”
Trevor nodded solemnly. “Exactly like that.”
Luke looked sheepish now, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to erase the past. “He said Quinn was gonna cave first. That he wouldn’t last a month without trying something. And then...the bet started.”
“You bet on Jack breaking the pact?” you hissed.
“I had to!” Luke confessed.
“Oh my god.” You pressed your palms into your face. “How much?”
Luke and Trevor were silent, staring at each other in silence. “Nuh uh,” Trevor said. “We will die if we say anything else. You have to pretend like you don’t know.”
You laughed, facing both of them. “Act like I don’t know? Are you kidding me? Tell me how much.” Trevor kept a straight face, so you turned to Luke who was sweating gallons. “Luke, how much money?” He shook his head silently. You rolled your eyes, taking in a deep breath—then it clicked. A smug smile wiped across your face as the guys grew worried by the second. “You don’t need to tell me…I can find out for myself.” You said before jumping from the table, running towards Jack’s room.
“Wait-” You heard Trevor as you closed and locked the door behind you. You went straight to the safe Jack had in his closet, something you’d always been confused by. You punched in your birthday, opening the safe. Idiot. You pulled a metal cash box from the safe labeled “Big Bet $”
“Gotcha, Hughes.” You said quietly, ignoring the aggressive knocks from Trevor and Luke. The box was heavier than you expected—heavier in your hands, heavier in implication, heavier because you knew the minute you opened it, there was no going back. Behind the door, Luke and Trevor were fighting for the Nobel Peace Prize in panicked yelling.
“Bunny, come on! Don’t open it—”
“You can’t prove what it means! It could mean anything!”
“It literally says Big Bet on it, you moron!”
Your eyes widened as you pulled open the lid. Stacks. Neatly banded, color-coded, and labeled in handwriting that could only belong to Quinn—too clean, too smug, too organized. You counted silently, mouth dropping open. Jack’s contribution was the largest, naturally. But Quinn’s was suspiciously folded beneath a note that read: “He’s going to cave before the Fourth. Mark my words.”
Cole’s wad of twenties had a sticky note: “Because I value my life, this is anonymously donated.”
And Luke… oh, Luke. A measly fifty-dollar bill, folded eight times, shoved behind a crumpled receipt and an emergency Tylenol packet.
“You guys are fucking dead.” You shouted before swinging the door open, nearly knocking Luke over. You walked with speed back to the kitchen, box in hand. Trevor and Luke knew they’d fucked up, and they’d be done for as soon as everyone else found out. You slammed the box on the table as Trevor and Luke sat down. You stood in front of them, your hands not daring to move from the cash. You opened the box, shame spread across both of their faces. “Are you kidding me?” You asked quietly. “This has to be like…10k.”
“It’s uh…fifty.” Luke let out, earning a punch to the shoulder from Trevor.
“Fifty Grand?!” You shouted. “You bet fifty grand on who would be the first to get in my pants?!”
“Collectively!” Trevor added.
You sent him a glare, causing him to fall back into his seat. The box sat open like a crime scene, cash practically glowing under the kitchen light, a testament to the idiocy of frat-house emotional repression disguised as friendship. Luke looked like he was seconds from fainting. Trevor was trying not to laugh but had the face of someone who was deeply aware he might die tonight. “Collectively,” you repeated. Then you turned to Luke. “You contributed this insane stack of cash on Jack.”
“I really thought I would win that!” he blurted, then immediately covered his mouth like he’d just confessed to a felony. “I mean—I wasn’t trying to—That’s not what I meant—”
“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, tone calm in the most terrifying way imaginable. “Do either of you hear yourselves? This is gambling. With my body. My dignity. My—my—life, apparently.”
Trevor squinted. “Okay, when you say it like that—”
“Trevor.”
“I’m shutting up,” he whispered, looking down like he was waiting for divine punishment.
You paced in front of the table like a prosecutor at the end of a very satisfying cross-examination. “I hope you know I’m keeping this money.”
“No!” Luke yelled.
“Yes!” You said, slamming the box shut. “It belongs to me, since I would never do any of you!” Luke and Trevor looked at each other in fear of what would happen to them when the other guys found out. “You guys are professional hockey players, you make this much money in like two months!” Luke, for once in his life, had nothing to say. Just sat there staring at the closed box like it was a ticking bomb. Which, frankly, it was. The minute Jack walked in, or Quinn got wind of it, or God forbid Cole started talking, this whole thing would combust. You ran a hand through your hair, laughing under your breath. “You know what’s wild?” you said, voice too calm. “I was gonna write tonight. An actual piece. Something serious. Something important. And now I’m thinking...maybe this is the story.”
Luke blanched. “Please don’t write about this.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, wearing a wide grin. “I won’t write about it.” Luke exhaled. “No, your punishment is to sit here, silently, until Jack gets back. ‘Cause he is just as dead as the two of you.” Trevor let out a strangled noise that sounded like someone trying to swallow a scream and a couch cushion at the same time. He turned to Luke with the slow, horrified grace of a man realizing he was about to be collateral damage in someone else’s execution.
“Why the fuck did you let her go in Jack’s room?” he hissed, barely above a whisper, like Jack could hear them from down the block.
“Why did you leave the safe labeled?” Luke snapped back.
You, meanwhile, were completely unmoved—box of cash in front of you, arms crossed, wearing the smug, terrifying calm of a woman with nothing to lose and everything to report. As if the universe was on Trevor and Luke’s side, the door clicked open. In walked Jack, grocery bags in hand, looking at you with a wide smile.
“Hey guys,” He said, walking towards the kitchen. “What’d I miss?” His smile faded quickly when he dropped the bags down on the table, spotting the cash box in front of you. “Shit.”
You laughed, softly. “Have a seat, Jack.” Jack didn’t move. Not at first. His eyes bounced from the box to your face, then to Luke, then to Trevor—who looked like he was preparing to fake a seizure just to get out of the room.
“Uh,” Jack said, dragging a hand through his hair, voice suddenly an octave lower. “You found the box.”
“You labeled it,” you replied, folding your hands neatly on top like it was an auction paddle. “Didn’t exactly have to hire a private investigator.”
Jack winced. “Okay. Yeah. That’s fair.” He looked at Luke. “Did you tell her?”
“No!” Luke shouted. “Trevor did!”
Trevor shot upright. “You absolute traitor—you’re the one who brought out the whiteboard!”
“I was doing science!”
Jack sighed. Loudly. Like it hurt to exist. Then he met your eyes and, for the first time since entering, looked genuinely nervous. “Look, before you say anything—”
“No,” you cut him off. “No preamble. Sit your ass down, Hughes.” He obeyed, dragging a chair out with the reluctance of someone about to be publicly executed. He sat, back rigid, hands on his knees like a child waiting to be scolded by the principal.
Trevor leaned over to Luke and whispered, “This is so bad.”
“You think?” Luke snapped. You opened the box like it was Pandora’s wallet, letting the fluorescent kitchen light bathe the stack of labeled, smugly annotated money once again. You pulled out Jack’s contribution and held it up like a piece of damning evidence in court.
“Do you want to explain why you put five grand on yourself?” you asked sweetly, though your tone could curdle blood.
Jack flinched. “I—it wasn’t a bet on me. It was an insurance policy.”
Trevor squinted. “You bet against yourself?”
Jack shrugged, like this somehow made it less insane. “If I caved, I’d at least win my money back.”
You stared at him. Blinked once. “That is the dumbest financial logic I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Trevor was holding his head in his hands now, laughing silently like he’d passed the point of no return and was just enjoying the flames. “Oh my god. Oh my god. We’re all going to hell.” Luke groaned into his arms. You let the silence hang for a moment longer, until the tension in the room had turned into something tangible, like fog you could punch.
“Quinn’s contribution came with a note,” you said casually.
Jack swallowed. Hard. “Did it say...the Fourth?”
You raised your eyebrows. “It did.”
Trevor whispered, “Jesus, he’s psychic.”
“Do you have a note in there, Jack?” you asked. “Or were you too busy betting against yourself like a deranged insurance agent?”
Jack opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then tried again. “...It might’ve said something about a lake trip.”
Luke kicked him under the table. “Why would you write that down, you idiot?” You sat back down in your chair, watching them fall apart.
Jack looked at you finally—really looked at you. “I know this is bad. I know it’s...beyond bad. But we didn’t mean to objectify you, or turn this into some twisted game. It started as a joke. Then it spiraled. And then...I don’t know. It wasn’t about the money.”
You leaned forward, eyes locked on his. “Then what was it about?” He hesitated, the way people do right before they say something that might end them—or save them.
“It was about you,” Jack said. “You walk into a room and every single guy in it starts acting like an idiot. It wasn’t just about who would cave. It was about... who you’d pick. If you ever did. And I guess... maybe I didn’t want to lose.”
You blinked. Once. Slowly. Then let out a smug laugh. “What makes you think,” You started quietly. “I would pick any of you!” You yelled, startling all of them. “I am keeping this money, and I expect a handwritten apology from all of you.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. That’s fair.”
Box in hand, you stood tall. “Now, excuse me while I go call Quinn and Cole and bring hell into their homes.”
wait i saw ur trevorjamie? post and i am INTRIGUED what is that?? who are they? what is the backstory? please enlighten me??
hi op!! thank you for asking this question that i am Completely Normal about it. sending this ask is like asking the Cocaine Guy for some cocaine. of course i have some! now come take my hand and engage in ethically gray fandom practises with me. warning: this is going to be overly long (it is actually so long, i'm SO sorry). you might feel like i am actually a Cocaine Guy at some points because of the euphoria you will achieve (or because of how insane you might think i am). another warning: 99% of this based in fact and the other 1% is based in that beautiful gay area between fact and fiction.
trevorjamie is the hockey rpf ship between former (!!) anaheim ducks and now current (!!) philadelphia flyers forward trevor zegras, (drafted 9th overall in 2019) and former anaheim ducks and current philadelphia flyers defenseman jamie drysdale (drafted 7th overall in 2020)
an aside on trevor zegras
before we go into the backstory, i think the key to understanding the appeal of trevorjamie is to understand the appeal of trevor zegras. when i say appeal, three reasons come to mind:
his career can, as of right now, be divided into two parts: Trevor Zegras, Wonder Kid and Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential. trevor the wonderkid spans his his first two (and a half if you count 20-21) seasons: back-to-back 60+ points (that's Really Good for a rookie/young player). finishes second in the rookie of the year voting. also appears on the 2023 NHL EA video game cover, which is A Big Deal, especially for such a young player. even makes a guest appearance at the 2022 NHL All-Star Game where he scores a goal blindfolded in the ugliest red and yellow get-up i've ever seen while NHL team mascots pelt him with dodgeballs (no, i am not making this up.) here's the video. throughout his first two years, he makes insane plays, including multiple michigans (a lacrosse style move that's really hard to land in hockey, much less NHL-level hockey). here's a webweave about trevor and Hockey that i think about Every Day. here's a video of his frankly mind-boggling highlights from his first two years. here's another. here's a webweave with quotes on how talented he is. from 2021 till 2023, trevor zegras is, for all intents and purposes, the young, sexy and talented face of the nhl. Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential starts after he injures his ankle in 2024 and his goals/assists production falls off majorly for the next two years (we shall go more into why & how of Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential later.) but either way, his hockey is always in the spotlight for being creative and unique.
the second reason is his personality. nhl players are notoriously criticized for being boring "robots" with no emotion and so when trevor zegras, the Lover Boy who wears his heart on his sleeve comes along, people are captivated by how open and genuine he is. he’s like that frat boy who was always admired and never loved. here's a post about a coach talking about how much trevor talks. here's a youtube compilation of his interviews (very old but it's all i could find). fun facts: he once tried to pick a fight with sidney crosby, probably the Most Respected hockey player on earth. he dated dixie d'amelio for a bit. he went to the 2022 & 2023 montreal grand prix (and repped mclaren with his nhl friends!) his instagram username is 'Z' and he posts like an influencer. in conclusion: he's just a twink tiktoker and tattooed greek man from the suburbs of new york who is occasionally Haunted By The Demons. and we love him for that!
the third and final reason that i personally love him is because he is a part of the 2019 U.S. National Team Development Program draft class (the 2001s.) the USNTDP was started as a junior program for elite highschool hockey players across the US, meant to foster team-bonding between american players from a young age and also give them a taste of the pro-life before the NHL that isn't college hockey or a foreign minor league. it is famous in the hockey rpf fandom for spawning some of the most codependent homoerotic friendships, from dylan larkin & zach werenski to will smith, ryan leonard & gabe perrault and of course, trevor zegras and his friends: jack hughes, cole caufield, alex turcotte, etc. the reason that this particular group/USNTDP class is so famous is because they are soo co-dependent that jack hughes (and his brothers who are also elite NHL players, luke & quinn hughes (quinn has the funniest beef with trevor)) bought a lakehouse in michigan (where the program is located) so that the boys can summer there every off-season. the lakehouse has now expanded to include a revolving door of The Hughes Friends, including umich (luke & quinn hughes' alma mater) & other college hockey players. this has, of course, spanned many fics across many ships and is an integral part of The Lore. the lore behind cole, jack and trevor's friendship is also insane (please peruse @/whirlpool-blog’s jhtz tag), but that's a problem for another day (if it intrigues you, have a scroll through the usntdp tag generally too). but yes, the dynamic between trevor & his friends is another fan favourite, with countless interviews and instagram #moments, if only because all rpfers yearn for one direction. (jack is zayn, trevor is harry and cole is niall. no i don't take constructive criticism).
tldr: trevor zegras is a loud, controversial, talented and loved player. now, in my opinion jamie drysdale - in contrast - is quiet, sweet and soft-spoken, aggressively canadian, a guitar player who also likes to cook and hates mornings. however, there are other takes out there like this one that beg to differ and make for an even more interesting dynamic. either way, together, they compliment each other. one is Insane and the other is So Nonchalant. we must fundamentally understand that to understand the appeal of trevorjamie.
now onto the actual question: the trevorjamie backstory.
now before we begin, i have taken a lot of help from the wonderful primers of @/somewhatinvested, linked here. i highly recommend a scroll through their blog, (esp their tzjd lore tag) as well as @/whirlpool-blogs, @/teex, @/bliksemflitsenblog, @/f1vegas, @/sergeifyodorov and @/zeegras because i am but an amateur and they are phd experts conducting their second thesis.
but here's my take, which includes Recent Happenings A.K.A. trevor is traded to philly A.K.A. the greatest moment of my life A.K.A. yaoi always wins.
the beginning: 2020-2021 season
even though they were drafted in 2019 and 2020 respectively, trevor and jamie first actually met when they played against each other in the 2021 world junior championships (which is A Big Deal for young hockey prospects) where trevor (who played for the US) was spotlighted for two reasons:
winning MVP of the tournament, after leading the tournament in scoring (and actually tying the all-time US world junior record)
making the most cocky comments, including saying this about the canadian team: "i don't think they've been tested by a real time yet.” right before the highly anticipated US-canada final.
jamie plays for the canadian team. the usa won the final. trevor had 2 goals and 1 assist in the final. jamie was, understandably, Pissed. now this was A Problem because they are going to be teammates and are also flying to anaheim together on the same plane (along with other californian prospects but that's irrelevant.) jamie allegedly did not want to talk to trevor at all on the flight. trevor forced them to make amends over chick-fil-a after. hence began the most epic enemies-to-roommates-to-lovers arc in 2021 as they roomed together in a hotel in irvine. they spend this time mostly playing for the minor league affiliate of the ducks, the gulls (if you do not know what a minor league is, think gulls is the f2 team of the ducks, an f1 team).
throughout the (shortened) 2020-21 season, they bounce back & forth between the ducks and the gulls. the whole time, they stay together in a hotel in irvine (along with two other prospects) even though they only overlap for 13 NHL games over the course of the 2020-21 season (they are called up at different times to the ducks). one of their other roommates, perrault, says that the two of them were the closest between the four roommates. when trevor is first called up to the NHL, he wears the suit that jamie wore to their US-canada final game (insane). despite playing only 13 NHL games together, they score their first NHL goals in the same game (jamie's first NHL game), only minutes apart (breaking the record for the closest NHL debut goals). jamie has a secondary assist on trevor's first goal. jamie is interviewed after the game and says that "it was a good night for our household." the photo of them celebrating trevor’s first goal is re-created by a fan. the painting is later hung in their shared apartment by trevor. they wear matching rose pins on the anniversary of their first goals a year later. #gay
jamie Panics: 2021-2022 season
when the new season starts in 21-22, trevorjamie have established themselves. they are ready to move on from the land of Hotel Nomads and Buy A House. trevor said that he assumed jamie and him were going to live together. however, jamie is asked by an older teammate to live with him and says yes. i wonder Why.
trevor ends up first living with two other teammates for a week and then later moves in with cole york, the older brother of one of USNTDP cult bros, cam york (remember the name because it will come up later). during this time, trevor adopts a lizard. no, i am not joking. i can only imagine the Yearning reached catastrophic levels. HOWEVER! the Hockey Gods intervene and jamie's roommate is traded halfway through the season. it is confirmed that trevor moved in with jamie at the end the season. #lovewins
the 2022 offseason is incredibly famous because of the troy terry (one of their teammate)'s wedding, where we had some prime trevorjamie moments. see @/somewhatinvested's primer. take particular notice of this photo, allegedly taken after the wedding when they are both hungover in a ski-lift in aspen:
boyfriends: 2022-2023 season
2022-2023 is notable because yes, trevor & jamie live together in an apartment (yes, that apartment where trevor hangs the fan painting of their celebration). but also because jamie gets injured after playing only eight games and instead of going home back to canada, like a normal player would, he stays with trevor in anaheim. for the rest of the season (a solid five months). truly insane. this gives us some amazing Domestic content, such as jamie cooking for them both, jamie playing the guitar for trevor, watching sunsets together on the rooftop connected to their apartment (including jamie allegedly taking the most romantic sunset trevor photos), cuddling on valentine's day together and of course, the infamous shared rooftop playlist (preluded by the apple music JamieTrevor playlist), which trevor and jamie both confirmed they listen to while watching the sunset together. some of the music in this playlist is truly insane. (side note: i highly recommend checking out jamie's spotify (it's actually his mom's spotify) playlist "California" because it is. insane. listening to those 11 songs with the implications of trevorjamie is a Crazy experience. also jamie has only added like 13-15 songs to the “Rooftop”playlist and the summer trevor got a girlfriend he removed “Lover” by Taylor Swift and added it to his “California” playlist. god they make me unhinged)
in the 2023 offseason, trevor, jamie and USNTDP buddy cam york (there he is again!) go to stagecoach together. trevor and jamie are, predictably, weird about each other. trevor sets up him and jamie up with two models. stuff gets messy. here's a primer. here's more lore about trevorjamie being weird about their girlfriends. here, i put my rpf goggles to speculate that perhaps trevor Panicked this time.
the horrible, very bad, no good trade: 2023-2024 season
in 2023-24, they are not living together. maybe stagecoach has something to do with it, maybe it doesn't. either way, 2023 continues to give us content, such as trevor posting a photo of jamie with a winky face emoji after Contentious Contract Negotiations and dedicating his michigan goal to jamie.
but then on january 8th, the news breaks that jamie drysdale has been traded to the philadelphia flyers.
now, this is shocking because both trevor and jamie are good players: they're high draft picks who are faces of the franchise, touted as part of the ducks' rebuilding core and they just signed contract extensions. but it is even more shocking to trevor zegras, who is going to be separated from His Guy.
now hockey trades are famous for Being Chaotic but this was next-level: the ducks were on a week-long roadtrip, preparing for a game against nashville. trevor and jamie were allegedly together in a dive bar in nashville when jamie got the call. jamie's mind "was in a daze." he flew out of nashville at 5:45 a.m. trevor allegedly reached out to his USNTDP bro on the flyers, cam york (there he is again again!) to connect with jamie. jamie moves in with cam york (!) and another teammate. he picks #9 to play with the flyers, the same number trevor wore on the US world juniors team. which could mean nothing.
the day after the trade, trevor is supposed to be interviewed before the nashville game but allegedly refuses. a rinkside reporter stated that "trevor is the person who will miss jamie the most..was visibly glum... was his very best friend... I don't think he has fully processed it this morning...he said it doesn't feel real yet...they're going through it, they're going to remain close friends for the rest of their lives." trevor is uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole ordeal: no goodbye post, not even a story. later on, he states that him and jamie "peed together, got injured together, slept together," which goes viral. trevor likes a post of the quote.
in his first shift in his first game after jamie leaves (which is also trevor's 200th NHL game), trevor immediately breaks his ankle and is helped off the ice. he misses the rest of the season. he later says that the injury hurts less than the trade.
jamie's first game is flyers' pride night. afterwards, trevor likes the flyers post of the game and reposts it, with the same winky face emoji that he used when jamie got resigned to the ducks. here's screenshots of the two stories (the second one is the flyers story. yes that’s jamie wearing a dog mask. no, don’t ask.)
danny briere, fujoshi extraordinaire: 2024-2025 season
now before we move on to recent events, we must go back to trevor. specifically, Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential. so i mentioned that after the ankle injury in 2024 (the one he got immediately after jamie was traded), trevor’s goals and offensive production drops massively. his name comes up in trade rumours throughout 2024 and 2025, including a trade to the flyers. critics point to his defensive game as a back-end liability. people say he takes shifts off and takes games off, which basically mean he plays with no heart. they say he’s rude and disrespectful in his chirps. he hardly celebrates after goals anymore. people say he's lazy and overconfident, all flash and no substance, too scrawny to play in the league and annoyingly talkative to top it off.
all of this stems from many reasons, including his head coach, greg cronin, having an old-school style of hockey that encourages "grit" and none of the showboating and puck handling trevor is good at and loves. during this time, the ducks general manager pat verbeek (trevorjamie fandom’s Resident Evil Man) moves trevor from his natural, life long position of centre to right wing, which is another factor in his dropping production. gone are the days of trevor zegras, all-star rookie. people call him washed up and a draft bust. rpfers say he is broken-hearted.
this is worsened when he, just starting to find his groove and show flashes of defensive capability in 24-25, suffers a torn meniscus and has to undergo surgery for six weeks, missing majority of this season. when he comes back, he violates player safety rules and is suspended for six games. in first game after the suspension, he immediately tries to fight someone (which he never does) and loses very badly.
in contrast, jamie is thriving. he is maturing and growing defensively, he buys his own house in downtown philly, he hard launches his long distance gf (the one who trevor introduced him to at stagecoach) and spends his time with his philly best friend, cam york (the one who trevor introduced him to). during this time, jamie hardly mentions trevor, except for a flyers social media video where he says the most famous person on his phone is trevor zegras (full government name).
him and trevor also allegedly have dinner together after a ducks-flyers game in philly in 2025. trevor did not play in the game due to his injuries but still waited outside the flyers locker room “quietly and patiently” and later said the dinner was like “jamie never left.” fun fact (said with the air of a Crazy Person): due to trevor’s injuries and the distance between the two teams (they are in separate conferences), trevor has actually never played an NHL game against jamie.
in the beginning of the offseason, trevor also did this sponcon. which. No Comment. but what was shocking was he reposted the cover photo and then immediately reposted a reel of… jamie playing golf. here’s the two stories side by side to establish how crazy that was:
trevor was also allegedly updating The Rooftop Playlist for the first time a few days in two years before Recent Events. some people speculate it was during trade talks and he was Thinking about jamie. which is also Crazy.
this all brings us to today, when trevorjamie fans across the world collectively lost their minds when it was announced that the flyers had acquired trevor zegras.
trevor's only public acknowledgement about the trade (besides liking a bunch of posts) is this photo of him & jamie posted to his instagram, no caption and no acknowledgment to his other buddies on the team such as cam york (there he is again again again again!). nope, trevor needs everyone to know that this trade is about His Guy and His Guy Only.
you may notice some similarities to a certain pic on a ski lift in aspen. but whilst they were Just Bros in that one, they are definitely Not Bros in this one. just the semantics of taking a pic from two years ago, when we know trevor has pics of him, jamie and cam york at stagecoach... oh trevor zegras, you are the biggest idgaf war loser.
besides this photo, trevor also did a virtual press conference (video here) and went on a local philly podcast. jamie has only liked the post saying goodbye to the teammate that they traded for trevor and no posts related to trevor at all. he has also not posted anything on instagram.
but that doesn't matter because trevor zegras is So Back, baby. he will be playing under #46, the number he used to play on the gulls (he used #11 on the ducks). he is free of his Demons (the #11, pat verbeek and playing right wing). he is going to the land of brotherly love, matvei michkov (known for doing michigans, trevor's MoveTM) and travis konecny (known for being a yapper like trevor).
so where does this leave us now? well, both jamie and trevor will be playing the next season together (!!!!!!!). hopefully, we shall see trevor have a breakout year, a la dylan storme. both of them will be on the last year of the 3-year contracts they originally signed with the ducks. we don't know if either will resign with philly. but one thing can be sure: they will definitely, definitely Be Weird About It.
TLDR: trevor and jamie are insane about each other. i am insane about them. come join us!
if you've made it to the end, congratulations! i hope this enlightened you! if you have more questions (either about trevorjamie or anything else mentioned here), my ask box is always open! have a great day!!
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Bestie I need dad Trevor with an absolute yapper of a child 😭 like that kid gives him a run for his money when it comes to talking
trevor always had a lot to say. from the moment you met him, it was clear he was one of those people who just had thoughts and opinions about everything. he could talk hockey for hours, sure, but he could also talk about music, tv shows, the best way to make a sandwich. and when your daughter was born, he found his new favorite audience.
she’d barely been a few hours old when he started narrating her life to her. “ohhh, look at you, so tiny, so cute. you got your mama’s nose, lucky girl. but that hair, that’s all me. hey, you wanna know about the power play? no? okay, well, i’ll tell you anyway…” he just kept going. all day, all night, feeding her, rocking her, changing her diaper—he talked through it all. you used to tease him, saying she’d start talking early just to shut him up.
and now? now she was two years old, a chubby little thing with round cheeks and her dad’s exact green eyes, and she did not stop talking.
“daddy,” she said, kicking her feet against her high chair. “daddy, listen.”
“i’m listening, baby.” his voice was patient, but you could see the edges fraying.
“no, listen. listen. ‘kay, so, so, i was at the park, ‘member? with mama? an’ there was a puppy. a big puppy. like, this big.” she threw her arms out as wide as they’d go, nearly knocking over her juice. trevor caught it on instinct, setting it back down, but she was already moving on. “an’ it had a tail! an’ a nose! an’ i said, ‘hi puppy!’ an’ he went—” she made a little woof sound, clapping her hands together. “an’ then, an’ then, he runned away! an’ i said, ‘mama! puppy runned away!’ an’ mama said—”
trevor turned to you, eyes pleading. “‘mama said, ‘that’s okay, baby, he’s going home,’” you finished for her, watching as trevor exhaled like he’d just finished a penalty kill.
but your daughter wasn’t done. “daddy, ‘member when we eated ice cream? i eated all mine. i eated it so fast! an’ i said, ‘mmm!’ an’ mama said—”
trevor groaned, tilting his head back. “bean, can you take a little break?”
she gasped like he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “nooo, daddy! i got so many things!”
you couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, and trevor shot you a betrayed look. “this isn’t funny,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.
“oh, it’s a little funny,” you said, stepping closer, reaching up to run your fingers through his thick hair. “especially since this is your fault.”
his hand dropped. “my fault?”
you nodded, smug. “you talked her ear off when she was a newborn. never shut up. always telling her things, explaining every little thing, just yapping nonstop. you did this to yourself.”
trevor blinked, processing, then groaned again. “i thought you were supposed to get back what you put into the universe in a good way.”
“this is a good way,” you teased, kissing his cheek. “she’s just like her daddy.”
he sighed, but he was smiling now, pulling you into his arms. “yeah, yeah. i know.”
from the table, your daughter clapped her hands. “daddy, guess what!”
his face softened immediately, and he picked her up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “i love you too, baby. even if you’re gonna make my ears fall off.”
“they not gonna fall off, daddy!” she giggled, smushing her tiny hands against his face. “you so silly!”
he just looked at you over her head, grinning. “wonder where she gets it from.”
summary: you and trevor have been rivals since the day you met. one night, he decides to test just how far your mouth can run… and how fast he can shut you up.
warnings: explicit smut (18+), enemies-to-lovers tension, oral (m receiving & f receiving), dirty talk, praise/degradation mix, possessiveness, language
You have always hated Trevor Zegras.
Okay hate might be dramatic, but whatever. Point is: the two of you can’t be within ten feet of each other without the chirping starting, without Trevor giving you that stupid smirk that makes you want to fight him or kiss him or both.
Tonight is no different.
You’re at a mutual friend’s apartment for a small get-together, leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink when Trevor strolls in like he owns the place. Backwards hat, grey hoodie, cocky grin.
He sees you instantly.
“Didn’t know they let you in,” he says, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
You don’t bother to look at him. “Someone had to raise the IQ of the room.”
“Right,” Trevor says, stepping closer, “because you totally don’t get flustered every time I breathe in your direction.”
You scoff. “You wish.”
He tilts his head, studying you — really studying you and your stomach flips. His voice drops, lower, rougher.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I do.”
Your fingers tighten around your drink. You weren’t prepared for that. For him, looking at you like he’s imagining things he shouldn’t say out loud.
You swallow. “Trevor—”
“Come here,” he says quietly.
You freeze. “Why—”
“Because you’re all talk,” he says, stepping into your space, “and I want to see what happens when I call your bluff.”
And he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Your breath stutters, but you don’t move. So Trevor does one hand braced beside your hip on the counter, the other curling around your waist, tugging you forward until your chest bumps his.
“You gonna tell me to back off?” he murmurs. “Or are you gonna finally admit you like when I get this close?”
“I don’t—”
He laughs softly. “Liar.”
Then he kisses you.
Hard.
Your back hits the counter as his mouth claims yours urgent, hungry, like years of tension snapping all at once. You gasp, and he takes advantage immediately, tongue sliding against yours in a way that steals every thought from your skull.
His hands are everywhere — your waist, your hips, your jaw pulling you closer until you’re pressed completely against him.
You break for air. “Trevor—someone could walk in—”
He smirks. “Then guess we should take this somewhere else.”
He grabs your hand, tugging you down the hall until you reach a quiet guest room, closing the door with a soft click before caging you against it.
“Still wanna pretend you don’t want me?” he asks, thumb brushing your lower lip.
You glare. “You’re the most annoying—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts, leaning in until his lips graze your ear. “And you’re dripping for me.”
Your knees nearly buckle.
Trevor grins like he felt it.
“Take your clothes off,” he says, stepping back only enough to watch.
You’re not giving him that satisfaction.
“Make me.”
His eyes darken. “Gladly.”
He’s on you in seconds lifting your shirt, kissing down your stomach, kneeling in front of you like he’s starving. His hands grip your thighs, dragging you toward the edge of the bed.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your skin, “so fucking long.”
“Trev—”
He pulls your underwear down with slow, teasing fingers. Then his tongue is on you.
You gasp loud as he licks a long, slow stripe up your heat.
“Fuck,” you choke.
“That’s right,” he smirks against you. “Say my name.”
His mouth works you over, devastatingly good tongue circling your clit, lips sucking, fingers sliding into you like he’s memorizing every reaction. You grip his hair, head tipping back.
You’re close. Too close.
“T-Trevor, I—”
“Come on my tongue,” he says, voice dark. “Be good for me.”
You fall apart instantly.
He holds you through it, letting you ride his mouth until you’re shaking, overstimulated, boneless.
When he climbs up your body, his lips shiny, pupils blown wide, you could melt.
“You taste unreal,” he whispers, kissing you slow and deep. “Now lie back.”
You do.
He strips quickly shirt, jeans, boxers and your mouth goes dry because he’s big. And he knows you’re staring.
“Yeah?” he grins. “Still gonna talk shit?”
You tug him down by the neck. “Shut up and fuck me.”
His breath catches then he lines himself up and sinks into you with a groan so low it vibrates in your spine.
“Jesus—” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… fuck.”
He sets a ruthless pace, hips snapping into you with every stroke. You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks you like he’s been waiting for this forever.
Your moans mix with his— messy, breathless, needy.
“You’re mine,” he mutters against your throat, kissing, biting. “Say it.”
You don’t. You can’t.
He thrusts harder. “Say it.”
“Trev—”
His hand slides to your throat, gentle but claiming. “Say it.”
You break.
“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Fuck—Trevor, I’m yours.”
He groans loud and drives into you deeper, desperate, lost in you.
You come again, shaking around him, dragging him right over the edge with you. He buries himself inside you with a loud, broken moan, collapsing against your chest as he spills into you.
You stay like that for a minute — breathing hard, bodies tangled, his face pressed against your neck.
Then he lifts his head just enough to smirk.
“So…” he pants. “Still hate me?”
You roll your eyes, pulling him in by his hoodie strings.
