#gay obx

[jjpopeclub]

BITTERSWEET SUMMER || JJPOPE BLURB.

pairing : jj maybanks x pope heyward

summary : jj always knew that he loved pope. but in which way ?

warnings : none. slight angst. just two boys kissing in the beach.

trope : bestfriends to lovers

fandom : outer banks

— “ When were you going to tell me? ”

Pope felt the anger and sadness in JJ’s voice, and he was unable to say and describe how much it hurt him, how much the disappointment in his friend’s eyes touched him, deep into his soul. JJ was a nice person, but also a sensitive one. There was something terribly comforting and warm in him but when he wasn’t smiling, it hurt. For everyone, but especially for Pope. They had always been close, always together, it was them until the end of the world, them until someone could separate them but it would never happen. That’s what they thought, that’s what JJ thought.

On the warm sand of the beach, the heat remained even if the sun was partial, the sky was covered with stars, and the first constellations appeared. They shared a beer, the rest of the Pogues away. It was just the two of them.

— “ When were you going to tell me, Pope? Why am I the last to know? We’re best friends.”

— “This is John B, your best friend. Not me.”

— “If it’s him. What are we? ”

— “We are like brothers.”

— “No, brothers don’t hide things from their brothers. Brothers tell each other the truth from the beginning, they don’t learn it from someone else. Why do you treat me differently when I make you my priority? Man, tell me, what have I never done for you? I’ve always been there. You just need to call me, and I’m here. Even halfway around the world. So why am I the last to know you’re leaving?”

Pope blamed himself, he blamed himself for removing JJ from the truth when he deserved to know like everyone else. But JJ was different, more surprising. Pope didn’t know how his friend would take it. He tried to buy time, not lie to him but it was the same anyway.

— “I’m sorry.”

— “No, you’re not, Pope. But it doesn’t matter, I don’t blame you. I would never blame you. I don’t want to argue with you. You’re going to leave, and I don't want you to leave with the idea that I hate you. I don’t. I can’t. ”

— « Man, are you hugging me?»

JJ had smiled, and surrounded him with his arms. He could not blame him even if it hurt him, even if it made him want to throw his frustration on something. It hurt his heart more than he thought, more than if he lost John B. He loved them both. But maybe not in the same way, and he can’t say in which way he loved Pope. Or maybe he just refused to admit it.

— “ I feel like you’re leaving me.”

— “ I’ll always be here. Like you said, you call and i come. Always?"

— “Always. But that’s my sentence. Don't steal it from me? And then it’s always you who needs me.”

— “You feel the need to protect me!”

— “That’s how real brothers behave. I’ll always have your back, even if I have to die.”

— “You’re getting sentimental. Do you have feelings for me, bro?»

Pope laughed. And JJ had drunk a sip of beer before resting it on the ground. His eyes were lost in the sea. The waves were calm, too calm and silent. It was like the world was going out.

— “Do you think it’s possible to love someone you know in a different way ?”

— “Are you talking about Kie? I thought you gave up! ”

— “I’m not talking about her, Pope.”

— ” Then, who ? ”

— “A guy”

— "Oh man, if you’re… well if you’re gay, that’s totally okay?”

— “I’m not! I’m just asking.”

— “Do you want to try something?”

— “What?”

— “Kiss me.”

— “What are you saying?”

“I’m helping you! Besides, we know each other. It’s not awkward.”

— “ Just because I know you, it’s even more embarrassing, man.”

— “ You’ve seen me naked hundreds of times, but you can’t kiss me? What's that ? ”

JJ was starting to lose his mind. Damn, he was already confused enough and his friend had to push it even further. It was about to explode.

— “Close your eyes, JJ.”

The blond had closed his eyes and Pope had kissed him, putting his cold and soft lips on those of his friend. There was still sand on the mouth.

— “Open your mouth. A little more.”

He had slipped his tongue against his own, directing the kiss into something more sensual. His saliva fell into JJ’s wide open mouth. It no longer looked like an experimental kiss but something more serious, like a romantic kiss. Pope had laid down above the blond, pinning him on the sand.

— “ This is what you wanted? This is what you dreamed of? Did you like it? ”

— “Are you really going to leave?”

— “I’ll come back. And you’ll wait for me?"

— “ What if I meet someone, and if I forget you unintentionally?"

— “ I will forgive you as you have always forgiven me."

— “This is my first time kissing a boy, and I want to do it again.”

— “ Anything you want, right now."

Pope had kissed him again. This time, JJ had played, licking his partner’s tongue several times.

— “We should stop before someone sees us.”

— “ You’re afraid of being seen, but you kiss me like you want to be seen. That's my JJ. ”

— “ I don’t really control how I feel.”

— “ And, it's okay. Me neither. How do you feel?”

— “ I don't know. I feel a lot of things. Too much is going on in my head, Pope.«

JJ’s voice had become weaker, as if he was going to crack. Pope had embraced him. He knew that the blond had gone through so much, his tense relationship with his father, the shitty adventures of the Pogues, juvenile crimes and now he had to deal with his departure and his own feelings.

— “I can’t believe you’re really going to leave.”

— “I’m sorry.”

— "Don’t apologize. It makes me feel like you’re going to stay.”

— “Are you going to be okay?»

— “Yeah. I'm a big man. Now that we’ve kissed, what are you going to do? What does that kiss mean to you? I need to know. Does that mean anything between us?”

— “I believe so.”

— "What does that mean?"

— “ That you are mine. And that I am the only boy you can kiss. The only one, you listen?”

— “What if I kiss someone else ? ”

— “It won’t happen, trust me. I wouldn’t let my boy think or kiss someone other than me.”

— “ Say it again.”

— “Tell you what again ?”

— “I think I want to hear you say I’m your boyfriend.”

— “ Will it make you happy and smile at me ?”

— “Yes.”

— ” Hey guys, what are you doing? Let’s have fun together!”

It was John B.

— “We’ll talk about it. And, Pope ? »

— ” Yes. What Can i do for my pretty boy ? »

— “ Don't kiss other boys. »

— “ Or what ? You will kill them ? ”

— “You know me, Pope. Don't make me angry.”

— “ Already jealous ? ”

— “ I prefer to warn you. ”

— “ I will never kiss another boy. Not when mine is the prettiest. ”

~ ~ ~ ~

©jjpopeclub's works. do not copy.

[starboye]

imagine fratboy!rafe just trying to survive no nut november, he made a stupid bet with his other frat bros in the beginning of the month that he could survive the whole of november without jerking off but damn it was becoming hard (pun intended) especially when you came over to the frat house, dressed up all sexy for him not knowing the bet he had

fuck why did you have to come over on today of all days, looking so good for him, he sat on the couch trying to keep his eyes from lingering to long on your ass but that came to a full halt when you sat down next to him, hands rubbing at his thigh, slowly moving higher and higher until it got to his crotch usually this would get a rise out of him but his time it didn't

so you ask him what's wrong and he admits he's participating in no nut november and you let out a little snicker of disbelief, the fratboy who you know as the horniest man alive is doing NNN so what would be the harm in a little teasing, kissing down his neck a little and moving your hand up his shirt before unzipping his pants a little

you ask him if he wants to keep going and he folds quicker than a lawn chair, letting out a breathy yes and you take him up to his room, he's quick to strip himself of his clothes and lay on the bed, your hand wrapped around his dick, slowly jerking him off until he quickly blew his load, you cant blame the man, he hasn't jerked off in eleven days

and what would be the harm in helping him out a little more, making him cum again and again and again until his balls were nice and empty and his moans could be heard through the walls, seems to me like he lost this bet

[boypied]

Rafe Cameron

Rafe is the epitome of a rich boy with severe anger issues, yet when you start dating, that part of him almost fully slips away. He is utterly obsessed with you, and it's obvious to everyone but him 'cause he thinks he's hiding it. Some guy called him a faggot because of how protective he was over you and that didn't end well for that guy, Rafe saw red and the guy was like a deer in headlights. It was quite entertaining seeing Rafe beat a homophobe up.

Rafe likes to spend at least half the day between your asscheeks, eating your hole up till it's all sloppy. He loves watching you wiggle and squirm just from his tongue, the way your body pushes your ass closer to his face to get more action from that tongue of his. He learnt this new trick that if he flicks his tongue at a certain point in your ass you just immediately cum, hands free, which he loves doing cause it makes you scream.

Rafe absolutely loves it when you send him pictures unannounced. You do it so frequently that he makes sure to never open anything you send him just in case someone is near, he loves it when you wear something sexy for him; a jockstrap picture, a kinky-dress up picture or just a plain simple ass picture. He never complains cause he knows a lot of guys aren't as lucky as he is, he makes sure to save them all and put them in his own personal spank bank.

One of the things he absolutely adores about you is that when he comes over you just immediately pounce on him, he knows its coming and he just loves when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer when he's on top of you. His utmost favourite sex position is 'the shell' Rafe enjoys how close it makes him feel to you. It also helps him reach all the right spots as he pounds away at your hole.

Rafe has snapped at you once, you never saw him look at you with such rage before. You were both at a party and you were getting drunk and EXTREMELY horny, you were practically climbing him like a tree, you were all over him in front of everyone. Rafe grab you by the wrist tightly and dragged you all the way home until he got you into his bedroom and screamed at you for being so clingy. He stopped mid-scream though to realise he was treating you how he treats the pogues.

He then immediately smothered your body in kisses, trailing them across your exposed tummy all the way up to your jawline that cause you to let out sweet drunken moans. He knew he couldn't fuck you though considering how drunk you were but once you sobered up the next day he treated you like a real slut, which is what you wanted the night before.

[stolenkissesdiaz]

what these past few weeks have shown us is that the ‘gay ppl and their refusal to breakup normally’ stereo-type is alive and well. kiss of death and u make me a grave but i come back as a ghost 15 seconds later? average lesbian divorce. i become the magic you’ve been searching for/jesus after u save me? regular thursday for gay bestfriends. i die before u got to say i love you back? canon event for boy bestfriends in love. u change just like everyone in my life therefore breaking ur promise to me after you sealed it with a kiss, leaving me on my knees in the worst pain of my life after a majority of it was spent being beaten up by ppl like u? every lesbian situationship ever. anyways let this be a lesson to all. stop finding ppl who match ur freak. you’ll probably die or something idk.

[nemesyaaa]

you're maybe not gay, but THEM YOUR HONOR, they fucking are

(i'm actually so serious about them.)

[103rafes]

TAPE 007 ᯓ★

"Woah, you're at my game sober?"

in which varsityboy!pogue!reader is playing against a rival University, and frat!rafe is actually there; weird.

-

FRAT!RAFE and VARSITYBOY!POGUE!reader

Nothing could be louder than a Varsity hockey game between both Harvard and Michigan University, the echoes of people scrambling at the fierce competition that took place on the ice of Bright Landry hockey center. Both teams were out for blood, slamming eachother into the boards, skates faintly scraping from how much pressure they were putting on the ice, and inhumane speed of the puck being passed back and forth.

It was crazy alright, but then again it was the norm. No.

This was your norm.

The sweat that was surely sticking to your hair from the compact space of your helmet, the mouthguard you were suddenly hyper aware was practically glued to your pearly whites, and of course, the strain your legs muscle had from all the rushing and speeding you were doing.

They never said hockey was easy, you knew that and yet that had never stopped you even as a child. Now here you were, fully supported on a sports scholarship and the C of Harvard's Crimsons. You were the best out there, you knew that. You proved it time and time again, and as you dribbled the puck, swerving past a Michigan player and towards the net, you reeled your arm back and slapped the puck towards the net with a force that would've hurt in the form of an actual slap.

The buzzer above the opposing net blew, and you raised your stick up while you skated behind the neck and out. Goal.

Your team was now 4-0.

You grinned as your teammates rushed up to you, mitts colliding with the top of your helmet in a congratulatory sense, some hard smacks to your back while your team yelled praises right into your brain.

It felt good, it would always feel good.

Within a few minutes, it was already half time and intermission had stopped the game temporarily for a well deserved break. You walked back on your skates to your team's bench, both Michigan's and Harvard's teams exchanging cusses and insults between one another and promises to destroy eachother.

Quickly, you were sat down with your stick between your legs and hands, slowly zoning out while your coach spoke to the majority representing; though, it's not like you were listening.

Especially when your eyes saw the last man you'd ever expect to show up to a varsity game, let alone a hockey one.

Rafe Cameron. The leader of probably the biggest fraternity on the Campus.

You blinked, eyes slightly wide and brows furrowed dumbly.

..Huh?

You hadn't realized you'd been staring for long until your coach practically screamed into your ear, causing you to flinch.

"Number 78! Is your head here or elsewhere?" Your coach barked, and you stared at him dazed, before nodding, "Yup yup, I'm here, I'm here," You hastily answered, doing a mini salute. The coach seemed unconvinced, eyes narrowing as he studied you before he gruffed out, "k, keep up the work out there, you boys are killing it; just keep your head in the game."

With those words travelling through your mind in a loud loop, halftime seemed to fly by.

Skates slid smoothly against the ice as you chased down the other Captain on Michigan's team, the two of you on a head on duel to gain control for the puck. You were trying to steal the puck right from the other guy's stick, breath baited as you almost managed a few times. You had just went infront of the guy in an attempt to block him, before he suddenly turned around and shot the puck across the ice.

Icing.

You grimaced, some muttered curses as you skated to replay the puck. A little irritated by that cheap move the opposing captain had pulled, you skated slowly before a bang to the tempered glass made your head whip up to attention.

It was none other than Rafe Cameron. You didn't know why, but amusement filled you and you snickered, "What're you doing here?" You asked, your voice somehow getting to him over the crowd.

Rafe had that smug smirk, the one you wanted to wipe off so bad, resting on his features, before answering, "Thought I'd see y'gettin' your ass kicked, seems I was wrong," he shrugged, and you slightly rolled your eyes, "Oh, cause you would've fuckin' loved that," You snorted.

The one Kook you'd bury alive, yet the only one who could manage a conversation with you, even if it was one filled with distaste.

Rafe rasied his eyebrows mockingly, "Might've even jerked off to it."

Your eyes narrow at that, and you're about to skate off before Rafe spoke, "Woah woah, a'ight, m'just kidding!" He quickly spoke up, and you turned your head slightly to the side, not willing to sell his game cause Mr. Pussy frat eater wants to tease his balls off.

Rafe scratched the back of his head, adjusting the snapback he wore backwards, "Sooo..uh, got a party this weekend 'n uh..was wondering if you'd show," He muttered, and you stared in disbelief, before a laugh escaped you, "Bro? Look, I have practice this weeke-"

"S'on a Sunday, relax," Rafe interrupted, and you could already hear your coach's voice piercing your hearing, though you didn't care; that's weird, why didn't you care?

You hummed lowly, "Hm..no." You denied, and Rafe's nose scrunched in annoyance, "Oh c'mon-"

"Why? You're gonna be kissin' your frat sweetheart's face off, what's her name..Sofia? Yeah, I don't wanna see that shit buddy," He snickered, and Rafe's gaze darkened in obvious irritation, "Hey, I was drunk," he argued half assedly, and you groaned, "Yeah, like cause fuck! When are you not drunk, riddle me this-" You joked before Rafe cut you off once more.

"Just! Come, okay? Yes or no question, dipshit, don't fuckin' uh, do your teasing shit. You comin' or no?" Rafe asked firmly, and you realized that oh, you had to give an actual well thought answer; you were already on thin ice, testing both your limits and your coach's with how long you were stalling the replay.

After a bit of thought and panic beginning to settle into your skin for not getting back into the game any longer,you groaned in annoyance, "Fuck..fine, I'll come. Ya need my number?" You asked, venom in your voice as you silently stressed, hearing your coach's yells grow louder and angrier.

Rafe nodded, "Uh..pshh, yeah I do." He concurred. You considered your options for a bit, before you leaned your mouth towards the tempered glass, and let your breath create a fog against it. You quickly took one of your gloves off, a slender finger tracing letters into the foggy surface.

Rafe watched you with a focused gaze, the sentence forming before his eyes, and no doubt a number.

647 087 8895 better have coors light, or twisted tea if you're weak LMAO

You put your glove back, before you skated off to the face off with a snicker and no prior word.

By the end of the game, you'd gotten a huge earful from your coach about how long you'd stalled the replay faceoff (despite winning 6-2 by the end of the game), but again - it flew through one ear and out the other.

You were heading back to Campus now in your car, your best friend talking to you about something while you absent mindedly hummed, before your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at the screen of your car, waiting for the notification.

Maybe: Rafe Cameron

yo [10:18PM]

2 attachments

[10:18PM]

topper approves kign0re the mass [10:18PM]

ignore* mess* lmfao holy shit i'm a sbit durnk [10:19PM]

so you down? [10:19PM]

You stared at the messages in disbelief. Well, shit. Now you had to come to this party, and try your damn hardest to avoid everyone who tried to lay you.

Now at a red light, you could think over what you wanted to. You murmured some words to your best friend, and he gave you advice. Some really bad advice.

"You should go, I'll come with you if you want." He told you, and you were quiet, nodding as you pursed your lip.

After a hot minute of contemplating between bad probably fun decision and safe boring decision, you sighed loudly as your one hand quickly typed out a short response, while you pressed the gas lightly at the bright colour of a green light against your face.

LMAOO damn [10:22PM]

ight fine i'll come [10:22PM]

-

note: zest fest fr. This is short, I just wanted to pull something out of my ass real quick for this. I'm missing AA, missing hockey over an injury is the worst. Hope this is good, and uh..yeah, have a good day, thank ya kindly.

also, this shit isn't proofread. Maybe later.

[dzzydrake]

dude can we make jb x jj not a rarepair please i honestly am so serious about them and my mentally unwell head will not shut up about them like send help its unhealthy and im gunna die and like jj literally makes heart eyes at john b its adorable (hot take but the canon relationships suck bro)

[whyareyouhere66]

Ok im back in my JJ Maybank era 🧎🏻

Could you do a JJ Maybank x male reader with them being in an established relationship, and the pouges (+reader obvs) are having a bonfire party and reader maybe drinks a little more than the others. Everyone is talking and just mingling with each other when out of no where reader comes out with a microphone/mini karaoke machine (?) and starts singing 'That should be me' by Justin Bieber to JJ in front of everyone. Reader being too drunk to remember that they're literally already in a relationship and wants to 'win him over'. And probably ends up with JJ having to pick up reader and dragging him away to get him to stop 'declaring his love' in front of an audience lmao (All light hearted and fluffy ofc <3).

I would like to firstly apologize for such a long wait 😭 this request was sent in before I closed my requests, making it basically one of if not the last one I accepted so felt the need to make it good for you. It’s been in the process of being made for months now, so. It is very much possible you are no longer in said JJ Maybank era but nonetheless I hope you enjoy this Anon despite it not being perfect, and anyone else who is reading. Thank you for the request and anyone reading, enjoy. (It was actually kinda fun to write this when I got into it again)

JJ Maybank x Male! Reader

“Love You Like a (drunk) Love Song”

cw: alcohol, one mention of weed. Possibly a little ooc? I haven’t watched the show in a while. Loosely edited. Silly. Mid ending. Kinda long.

x

The world is spinning.

Just a little bit, though.

Or maybe more.

Hold on.

Bumps and valleys from peoples footprints indent the sand, grains of tiny rocks flying behind their dancing shoes. 

In the middle of the drunk crowds, teenagers stumbling about with bottles in their hands, is you, with your own bottle tucked between curled fingers. Number 3 maybe? You’re not sure anymore.

Through blurry vision, you stumble around with a lopsided grin, drunken laughs falling from it at every bump and nudge. Music pumps through the Boneyard, ringing in your ears from some indie-pop song you don’t know the name of. 

People begin to blur together, just bodies you push through as you and Pope jog through the crowd, whooping with each beat. It’s one of the few moments when Pope’s awkward smile has faded and all that’s left is a stumbling, giggling mess. And of course, sand. Lots of sand. 

Tiny rocks prod at your heels, filling the bottom of your shoes as you run. Your eyes dart to them- the roughed up converse that could probably fall apart at any given moment. Without thinking, you reach for your shoes.

“Wait-waitwaitwait-“ 

Pope doesnt slow down until your hand is clapped over his shoulder, eyes snapping from the Touron next to him, as suddenly he’s supporting all your weight on one arm.

“What- what are you doing?”

You don’t answer immediately, coming to a stop just outside the crowd of dancers. 

“Sand.”

Pope watches you with a dazed stare, the somewhat distant light from the bonfire all there is to light up his face, casting shadows across his nose and jawline. 

“Deal with it.” He says it like it’s obvious, though doesn’t try to move as you wriggle around to get your shoe off your foot- much harder than it should be. You click your tongue and grunt.

“Gotta sit-“

Like two mangled cats- you and Pope fall to the ground, bracing yourselves on your arms and elbows. Landing right on your ass- you begin to struggle with your shoe once more. Pope groans, brushing sand from his arm and his lap. A mumble falls from his lips, muttering curses at you for bringing him to the ground with you. However, you pay him no mind, tugging the sneaker off your foot, sand draining out through the hole as you flip it upside down. 

The distant reflection of the fire is all you have as you play with the ties of your shoes, shining faintly across the two wobbly figures you and Pope have become. He begins scooping handfuls of sand into his palm, letting it slip through his fingers as he waits for you to finish. For a second, he brings his hand towards your shoe- sand threatening to slip into the sole of your just emptied sneakers. You slap his arm away before he can succeed. 

“That fire is so hot.” Pope complains out of nowhere, wiping his forehead for some imaginary sweat. You twist your head to look at it, palm weakly slapping the bottom of your shoe. 

“Dude, it’s like….” You squint, unsure, “100 feet away. You’re just drunk.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Alcohol doesn’t make you hot.”

At that, you scoff, though it comes through your nose like a snort. “Speak for yourself.”

Pope’s head slowly turns to you, eyes narrowed and mouth popped open like a fish. He looks like he’s trying to jam the logic of that sentence into his brain, but failing. 

“I have no idea what to say to that.” He concludes. 

In all fairness, you only sort of know what you meant by it in the first place. 

The topic quickly loses relevance as you finish dumping your shoes, tugging them back onto your feet and jumping up. He stumbles to join you, and soon enough, you’re at it again. 

Walking through the sand, there’s less people to weave around now that you’re out of the crowd that’s formed around the speakers. Some Kook has jumped on to a log, taking over the mic from the cheap karaoke machine and is currently belting the words to Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night”- except her version has a drunken slur thrown in with the melody. The sound is…amusing at most, but no one cares enough to complain, watching and some even dancing around her log. 

You and Pope stagger right past it, your arm now slung around his shoulder. 

You both stumble and laugh until you catch a familiar face in the crowd- JJ. 

You grin.

JJ.

The blonde sits on the edge of another log, sitting with a few others around the ring of the bonfire. John B and Kiara are on the log next to him, while other Pogues and the occasional Touron fill in the remaining space. Some redhead leans into Kiara’s shoulder, choking on her own laugh while being completely oblivious to the side eye Kiara gives her in return. Two Pogues pass a blunt back and forth over John B’s shoulder, grinning wickedly when he comments on it.

In Pope’s eyes, he sees the group, and without thinking points his next few steps in that direction. Not you, though. 

Your eyes become still, tuning everyone else out, not even seeing the giggling redhead, or John B’s easy smile. All you see, is JJ.

The crackling fire casts an orange shadow over his features, creating a shadow on his cheekbone, next to his nose. It contrasts perfectly with the blue of his eyes, the usual mischievous glint behind them showing through with his laugh as he makes yet another stupid joke. 

He’s so pretty. 

Dilated eyes follow his every move, the twitch of his smile- and you’re completely oblivious as Pope leaves you behind, moving up towards the group without another thought.

“What’s up, guys.” Pope reaches his hand out for a greeting as he makes it to the group sitting around the fire- JJ’s hand meeting his as their palms “clap” in unison. 

“There he is!” JJ loudly greets, watching the boy make his way to a seat on the log. The others say their own hello’s, as Pope easily molds into the atmosphere of the smaller group. And still, he hasn’t noticed that the your drunk (far more drunk than him, at least) self is still standing in the sand with parted lips and heart eyes. 

Your eyes flicker across his figure again, wishing through alcohol-tainted thoughts that you could capture the sight with a picture. From his nose, to his lips, to the muscles in his shoulders to the wave of his hair falling across his forehead. Your vision is starting to blur around the edges when you stare too long, but you can’t look away just yet. 

‘Is he single?’

Suddenly, you can’t remember anymore. 

Your eyes trace over every feature you can catch with the orange light, hand twitching with an empty warmth. You wonder what it would be like to hold his hand. 

JJ is oblivious to your stare, downing half his cup between conversations as Pope and John B joke about something next to him. In your mind, despite the influences making your thoughts sway back and forth- you come to a conclusion.

‘I should flirt with him…’

A simple task, just a small goal. Anything to make the pretty boy look your way.

However instead of walking up to him like a normal person, you turn around- stumbling to the crowd behind you with nothing but the makes for a headache and a plan. 

Pope, back at the bonfire, whispers into JJ’s ear, “Your boyfriend is drunk as hell, by the way.” 

The blonde seems completely unfazed, shrugging his shoulders and stretching out like a cat, cup teetering in his hand slightly.

“No surprise there,” he responds nonchalantly.

“He gets it from you.”

John B’s words are met with nothing but an eye roll from JJ, and a small grin from Kiara.

“Speaking of- where is he?” Kiara asks, brushing some hair out of her face as she’s finally released from the redhead’s grasp, as the random girl turns to talk to some pogues next to her. This catches everyone else’s attention, Pope speaking up first.

“Oh uh- he was just over-“ he goes to point to where you had stood a minute ago- only to pause when he sees the spot empty. His eyebrows furrow, “…there.” 

The other three turn their heads to follow the point of Pope’s finger, looking around for your missing figure. 

“Uh oh.” John B deadpans, and in seconds JJ is on his feet.

“Where’d he go?” His blue eyes scan the crowd, now searching for you in the mass of sweaty teenagers. 

“He was just there a second ago.”

Kiara stands up, doing the same as JJ. There’s too many bodies huddled in one spot to pick you out easily, everyone still gathered around the speakers, red solo cups littered about. It’s like “Where’s Waldo”, except not really. Her brown eyes shift from group to group, skimming over everyone, when she catches a glimpse of your figure.

“Guys, he’s right there.” she deadpans, now watching you as you seem to be making your way to the center of the crowd.

Her eyebrows furrow, and the others follow her gaze.

“Ok, and…what is he doing?”

No answer can be found, as all 4 now watch as you squeeze through the rowdy teens around you. 

Your mind is caught in a rush. Everything in your surroundings seems to blur, the music turning into a thrumming against your ears as you shove your way to the front. You know what you’re gonna do, impulsive plans fueling every step. All you want is to impress that hot blonde painting back at the campfire, make sure you’re the only one he’s looking at.

You know JJ, you know how he’s quite a magnet for the wandering eye. In your drunken state, you find yourself desperate to be his only focus. 

You make a quick stop at the computer connected to the speaker, changing the song cue, before continuing on your way. Some girl, who you vaguely remember from your science class, is currently barely getting out the words to “Call Me Maybe” through fits of giggles, karaoke microphone seconds from slipping out of her hand. Without a moment of hesitance, you stumble right up to the make-shift stage and reach for the microphone. 

“That’s real nice, Katy,” you murmur, putting your hand on her shoulder as she looks at you slightly confused, her poor rhythm suddenly interrupted, “‘s my turn now.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, but makes no argument as you nudge her off the stage, stumbling back to her friends who only laugh. The sleek surface of the microphone is slippery on your sweaty palms, but you hold it firmly, spinning around and puffing your chest. 

The log isn’t exactly a perfect stage, but it’s just big enough so you can see through the crowd from a higher angle- and across the way, you catch the gazes of your friends, a variety of expressions on each of their faces. 

Pope has his eyebrows furrowed down in that classic Pope stare, his thoughts loud. “What the fuck”, would be your guess. Kiara seems to have the same thoughts running through her head, but her eyes hold more amusement. John B and JJ both sit here with open mouths. 

You don’t really process any of the confusion in their gazes, though, because the second you meet eyes with the blonde boy, your heart is racing. The beat, begins to play, and you bring the microphone to your lips.

“What the fuck is he doing?” John B asks, but again, no one has an answer. 

“This can’t be real.”

“Oh my god.”

The familiar tune of Justin Bieber starts to flow from the speakers, and Pope slaps a hand over his mouth. This is too good. 

“Everybody’s laughin’ in my mind…”

“We gotta get him off that stage-“ John B starts to stand up, only for a hand to get in his way. It’s JJ’s. 

“Nah bro” he doesn’t dare look away from you, “one more minute.”

A few cheers and shouts come from the front row, the crowd pretty divided between “invested” and “pays no mind”. You continue to sing, your voice wobbly at first, before you start to really get into it. 

“Did you forget all the plans that you made with me? Cause baby I didn’t-“ 

JJ cracks a small grin, looking back at the others as if in confirmation, before turning back, still completely lost as to what you are doing.��

“Cause that should be ME-“

Oh!

“Holding your hand!”

Kiara bursts out laughing. 

“That should be me, making you laugh! That should be me, this is so sad-“

“That’s one way to say it.” John B smirks, earning a prompt nudge from JJ.

You’re shamelessly making eye contact with him, losing your balance on the log as you make up for every crack in your voice with devoted theatrics. He might not make it through this. 

“Y’think we should go get him?” Pope asks, hiding his grin with his fingers. You start to finish up the chorus, completely invested.

The rowdy crowd has become blurry faces, a swarm of bodies dancing around you while you stumble on the log. Halfway through the second verse and it becomes clear you don’t really know most of the words to this song, glancing over to the computer and trying to read the poorly-animated lyrics off the 8 year old YouTube video you found. But finally, the chorus comes back around, and you’re coming in strong again. 

“That should be me, holdin’ your hand-“ you stare into his eyes and thrust your finger into his direction, turning heads.

“Ok we gotta get him off that log.”

“Yep, that’s enough.”

JJ stands up and quickly makes his way to where you stand- or perform, rather. Shoving through the various bodies, he pushes his way to the front, and the whole time you follow his figure with your eyes.

“This is so wrong, I can’t go on-“ you point at him, wobbling on the log, “-till you believe that that should be me, that should be m-“

“Y/n,” JJ stands in front of the log, gesturing for you to join him. You don’t, instead moving your finger to continue to wag it in front of his face. He sighs, looking at the ground to hide his smile. When he looks back up, you’ve launched into a high note that definitely is not in the original recording. 

“-meeeeEeEEEee-“ 

“Oh god,” he mumbles to himself, not entirely sure what to do. You’ve never been this wasted before- and even more, he’s not used to being the designated caretaker friend. The roles are completely switched, yet he’s not even sober! He does the first thing that comes to mind- reaching for you and tugging you into his arms. You fall with a small gasp, dropping the microphone into the sand, slight feedback echoing through the shitty speaker as he literally drags you away from the crowd. 

“What’re you doing-?” you demand, though blushing slightly at how close you now are to his chest. There’s a few snickers and curious remarks within the group behind you, not that you really pay attention. And they quickly go back to their own business anyways, leaving you to be dragged away to the side of the party.

JJ is supporting your body with his, as if you’re injured instead of just wasted, but with your uneven steps and his own tipsiness you both end up just stumbling off. Your arm slung around his shoulder and his hand keeping you close to his side. He’s even prettier up close. 

“Man, how drunk are you, babe?” He asks as you come to a stop, moving to stand in front of you, your hands now on his shoulders. 

This scrambles your mind a little bit. “Man” and “babe” used in the same sentence? Wild. 

“‘M not that drunk.” You retort, eyes peeking up to take in his features once more. You don’t even think about how obvious you’re being- dazed eyes raking over his face, morphing into an expression with so much awe you’d think his face was made up of the stars above. 

He notices the look, just as your eyes not-so-subtly flicker from his eyes to his lips. It makes him flush slightly. 

“Mhm- and that talent show, huh?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone this time, you can tell, “what about that?”

“Why, did you think it was hot?”

JJ’s grin starts to grow, the cogs in his brain turning. Was this really all for him?

“…were you trying to impress me, baby?”

That one sends a small rush of butterflies through the pit of your stomach- not really mixing well with the alcohol. 

You feel as a grin starts to spread on your lips, cheeks hot. 

He called you baby. 

“Maybe. Are you single?”

It’s really ‘no think, just do’ at this point, your thoughts becoming words in a matter of seconds. This visibly catches JJ off guard- that was not where he thought that was going. He pauses, and if you were to look hard enough you could see the throbber of a loading screen on his forehead. 

“What?”

You’re starting to lean into him a little bit, subconsciously. 

“Do you have a boyfriend.” You restate the question, and it all starts to click in his head. The singing, the pointing. 

‘My boyfriend just drunkenly sang Justin Bieber to me as a way of flirting.’

A giant smirk takes over his lips. 

“Wait wait wait,” he starts, looking down for a second, “let me get this straight- you went up there and sang that whole song as a way of…as a way of flirting?” He looks back up at you, finding this whole thing quite humorous. 

“Maybe,” you say again, “did it work?”

JJ cant stop the chuckle that escapes his lips, the laugh rumbling in his throat. You furrow your eyebrows, “what’s so funny-“

He shakes his head, “nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.” He looks you up and down, a glimmer in his eyes that you notice but can’t name in this moment. But it doesn’t answer your question. 

“JayJayyyyy-“ you groan, and it just makes his smile grow. It becomes clear he’s just gonna play into this. He places his hands on your hip, leaning into you, so now you’re both close enough to smell the alcohol lingering on both of your tongues. He chuckles again, swaying slightly.

“Do I got news for you.” Is all he says, and it’s clear he’s gonna have a field day with this one. 

[issahruiz]

It's just some lazy sketches but I'm obsessed with them and need to share my fixation with the world so here are the gays 🕺✨

(I have more if you like them 👉👈)

[marvelsgirl616]

Sambucky & jjpope hand placement….🏳️‍🌈

[starboye]

imagine fratboy!rafe putting his hat on you while you ride him, putting it on backwards like he always wears it making you look even hotter than you already were while riding his cock, bouncing that fat ass up and down on his cock while simultaneously letting out the most pretty moans

sooner or later he couldn't take the sight of you looking so good anymore and turned you over on your back to get his fill of this sex filled hour, putting you in missionary and ravaging your hole with his rough thrusts, splitting your hole open with his fat fucking cock with every pound

his chain dangling over your face and moving back and forth with every rough thrust into you, his mouth spewing how hot you look with his hat and how much he wants to breed you right now, you begging his to empty every drop of his fucking cum into your hole, but don't take this as you're dating this is just a hook up

[boypied]

Rich Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron

You never wanted to come across as a gold digger, you didn't want people to think that you were only dating Rafe for his money but you knew that people would talk so you tried not to care. You got a lot of stares when you were with him because, well, for one, no one expected Rafe to get a boyfriend 'cause they thought he was straight but also because you didn't come from money so people had already begun to assume a lot of things about you and your character.

Anytime you went to stay with Rafe, all the people would stare at you cause you were a pogue but you tried to keep your head up high and be the bigger person no matter what kind of disgusting words they threw your way. Once Rafe caught wind of what all those people were saying he wanted to go on a rampage, he swiftly moved across the room and pulled out a gun but you managed to calm him down by speaking to him in a soft calm tone by telling him that you don't care and they will get over it and also by giving him the sloppiest and best head he's ever had.

Rafe, of course had to finish all over your face then scoop it off your face and feed it to you and then you'd make out sharing his cum between both your mouths. This was one of Rafe's favourite things to do, his wallpaper is even a live video so it's just a cute picture of your face until you hold down on it to reveal a video of Rafe shooting his thick load all over your face (you obviously told him that this was okay).

Rafe could tell that all of the hate from the kooks was getting to you, so he blindfolded you and took you over to his family's yatch and took you on a trip out to the sea. Once he took the blindfold off, he gently kissed your neck and put a sailors hat which caused you to belt out laughing before you took a second to realise how sexy he looks in that hat "we're gonna need to get you a sexy sailor outfit captain" you whisper to him excitedly.

You both layed against the boat and watch the waves bob up and down, the sun was gleaming down on you both. Rafe pulled you into his arms and you felt safe, away from everyone else and only with the love of your life. He was perfect, everything you've ever needed in your life till the day you die he is the man for you.

[starkeyshirt]

Kitchen Calls

jj x john b

i wrote this quite while ago! it's not necessarily an age regression story, but i imagine jj as an age dreamer of sorts, so i figured it kind of fits. enjoy!

tw//: abuse, blood, injuries, crying.

<<•>>

    JJ's ribs stung with an undeniable pain; echoing through his body with every kick. Blood dripped from his lips and his vision blurred in and out.

  "Piece of shit!" Luke screamed at his son, kicking him in the ribs one last time before chucking the almost-empty bottle at his head. The glass shattered against JJ's skin, causing it to erupt in an unbelievable amount of pain. "You're the damn reason your momma left, you know it too! Should've killed you a long time ago, boy."

   JJ watched with bleary eyes as his father stomped off, slamming their crappy door against it's hinges. He could hear the stomping until his truck started, then, he was gone. JJ knew he wasn't in the clear; his father would return, and nobody wanted to be around when he came home. Coughing up more blood, the blond boy forced himself into a sitting position. His soft, golden mop fell over his eyes, mixing with sweat, blood, and tears on his face.

  JJ's ribs throbbed almost unbearably as he stood up, leaning against the counter for stability. He was damn sure his stomach was blotches of any color but the pale tan it should be. It always was when his dad was done with him.

  JJ has learned overtime what to simply expect from his dad, what to know was going to happen before it did. He knew what pain was coming when he showed up at home after weeks without money for his dad. He knew what names he would be called, and that he probably wouldn't even make it to his room to grab the belongings he came there for. JJ knew all these things, yet he still went back. He probably always would; until the day his father killed him.

  Somewhere in his slightly brainwashed methods of thinking, JJ completely believed everything his father told him was true; Ungrateful, stupid, useless, unlovable. They were all things his father called him the most, and in some ways, they did in fact apply to JJ.

  He convinced himself he was ungrateful. He still cried when his father gave him what he deserved, even when he did nothing to contribute to their poverty. He did nothing to help his dad; he didn't give him enough money, he pushed him to drink. He was ungrateful.

  JJ convinced himself he was stupid. He failed classes in school and barely tried, too preoccupied with himself to focus on class. He led his friends into dangerous situations with dangerous people, simply because he didn't use his head. He thought with the weed he smoked, and all that did was give him a false sense of confidence. He was stupid.

   He convinced himself he was useless; never really needed to anyone, just there. He mooched off of everyone and everything around him, barely contributing to his friends or his own father. He didn't do them any good, only weighing them down with his own mental and emotional baggage. JJ was useless.

  And most of all, JJ convinced himself he was unlovable. It's the perfect word to describe him, in his own mind. Unable to be loved by his own father, who despises him because of his mother. At one point in time he earned his mother's love, only for her to rip it all away when she left without a warning. Without a goodbye. Unlovable to everyone and anyone, because nobody could love somebody as messed up as JJ Maybank.

  "Fuck!" The blond screamed, fist colliding harshly with the cheaply stained wood creating his father's joke of a kitchen. Tears flowed heavily down his cheeks, an expression filled with none other than emotion on his face. Simple emotion, that's the only way he would put it.

  Cuts from the glass dropped coppery blood down his face, and his ribs pounded from their squished position against his knees. JJ's hands intertwined into his hair, pulling desperately against his blond locks in a weak attempt to stop the wave of emotions threatening to rip through his tear ducts. JJ kept a firm grip on his hair, attempting to stand himself upright to no avail; waves of pain ripped through his ribs, sending him to the ground with a yelp of pain.

  He weakly wiggled his phone from his pocket, punching in a number he had memorized by heart. JJ hated with everything he had to call for help, fully believing he didn't deserve it. But he was wasting time, and he really didn't want to be lying on the floor when his dad stormed in again, more drunk than he was before.

  "J? What's taking you so long, I thought you only went for clothes?" John B's warm, concerned voice broke through the ringing, filling JJ's heart with a love he felt he didn't deserve. Sobs ripped from the boy's mouth; violent, harsh cries filled to the brim with pain and suffering, immediately making John B fill with panic. After all the years he'd been friends with JJ, been with JJ, he'd never heard him cry like that.

"I can't take this anymore," JJ sobbed, hearing the faint start up of their van, the Twinkie, while John B left the chateau. "I'm so tired."

  "Hey, babe, you've gotta breathe. I'm coming to get you, just breathe. Remember what we talked about?" John B soothed, listening to JJ's breathing becoming increasingly uneven and rapid, the boy spiraling himself into an anxiety induced panic attack quickly.

  "Yeah." JJ replied faintly, bringing his left hand up to his face. He held his thumb merely a few centimeters away from his lips, blowing gently onto it. As a kid, JJ would suck his thumb to calm himself down. He stopped by the time he was nine, his father having broken his left thumb after he caught him with it between his lips. Men don't need comfort, was what he had said. From that time until just a few months ago, JJ was at a loss for a way to comfort himself, always spiraling into horrible panic attacks until he'd choke on his own tears and throw up or breathe too fast and pass out. He hated it. After multiple situations in which John B was left to slow his boyfriend's rapid breathing, he noticed how he always had his left hand near his face, fisted with only his thumb out. Anybody else might not have noticed it, but after multiple times, John B caught on. Together, they had done some testing and came up with another thing that helped JJ focus and calm himself, a coping mechanism without the trauma his father caused him so early in his life.

   John B smiled fondly as he sped down the street light roads, listening to JJ softly blowing against his thumb time after time again, his breathing obviously recovering in the slightest.

  "Good boy, J. You're doing so good." John B praised softly, pulling in outside JJ's broken home. He didn't hesitate to fly up the old steps and into the other boy's kitchen.

  The sight would've been deemed precious by John B if it we're for the circumstances. JJ was sat against the cupboards, his right arm tightly around his knees, holding them close to his chest. His thumb was still held against his lips, although his mouth was parted slightly. Instead of blowing on his finger he had settled for resting it in-between his lips, having grown tired of blowing air out of his lungs.

  "Hey, c'mon. Let's get home," John B offered, crouching down carefully next to his wounded boyfriend. JJ shuffled ever so slightly, just enough so John B could swoop one arm under his legs and his other supporting his back. A whine escaped his breath when his ribs were jostled, John shushing him. JJ stuck his face into the other's horrible, horrible brightly colored shirt, breathing in the scent he loved so much.

  John B hummed softly as he carried JJ to the car, hating how small and fragile the boy seemed in his arms. He was probably one of the only people to ever see this side of JJ; he was always cracking jokes and rambling off, making himself the loud, boisterous one of the group to cope. JJ was never sad, and it hurt to see him hurting. John B would never get used to it.

  "Hey, I'm gonna run in and grab your clothes and stuff, okay? I don't want you coming back here for a while," John B explained gently placing the blond down in the front seat. Not much more than a wince escaped his lover's lips, a small nod being given in response to the question. "I'll be right back."

  JJ's busted lip left an imprint of coppery blood on John B's lips when he gave him a small peck, only making the brunette feel guilty. Guilty, only that he couldn't protect his boy.

  John B gathered both things JJ needed and things he knew JJ would want, because those were two completely different things. Shirts, shorts, sunglasses, toothbrush (JB would never admit it out loud, but he truly didn't appreciate sharing his own toothbrush every single morning); all things JJ would need. Then, he tossed in extra hoodies and his blanket, grabbing his fluffy (and in JJ's words very manly) pillow and stuffing it under his arm. That's another thing he's learned about JJ over the years. Despite living in the Outer Banks, the blond boy always insisted on piling himself under as many soft things as he could find after something traumatic happens. It was always a few hours later, after things settled and his wounds or anything else were cared for, but it happened everytime without a doubt. The first few times John B had witnessed JJ do this, he quite frankly thought the boy was going to suffocate himself. Overtime, though, JJ even managed to get John B to join him under all the blankets and pillows, cuddling together as if they were in Antarctica and freezing to death. It was a comfort thing, he supposed.

  The sky was dark already, the day having passed quicker than either boy expected. JJ was slowly bouncing back to his usual self on the way back, still very much hurt and upset, but just a little tiny bit less miserable.

  "C'mon, Princess. It's time for the chateau nurse to take over your injuries," John B joked, playfully bowing down as he opened JJ's car door. He (carefully) scooped the boy into his arms, listening to the small, wet giggles escaping his boyfriend's throat. JJ sniffed repeatedly, having been too stubborn in the car to blow his nose. Sometimes, John B wondered how he ever started dating such an man-child, but he'd love him nonetheless.

  John B carried everything in with only one trip, JJ in his arms, the bag slung over his neck. JJ held onto his pillow. Everything got tossed beside the couch, JJ being set delicately on one of the cushions. John B turned towards the bathroom for their medical supplies. "Don't move."

  "It's not like I'm gonna limp to Figure 8," JJ replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John B rolled his eyes as well. "Happy to see you're feeling better."

  John B returned within seconds, carrying an arm-load of bandages, antiseptic, cotton rounds, and a joint. He handed JJ the lit joint, placing it in-between the boy's lips directly. John B then bent down to lift JJ's shirt over his head, the smaller blond purposefully blowing the smoke from the joint into his face.

  John B sighed, glancing at the variously unnatural colors covering his boyfriend's midsection. JJ's ribs were swollen black and blue, bits of yellow mixed in with it. It hurt him everytime he had to see his love like that, beaten like a dog by the person supposed to love him most. John B knew JJ saw the look on his face, watching with soft eyes as the boy looked away guilty, looking much like a kicked puppy.

  "Hey, look at me," John B instructed, dragging his hand up to JJ's chin. He redirected his focus, turning his head until the boy was meeting his eyes. "None of this is your fault. You don't deserve to be treated this way, by anyone. You're perfect."

  Instead of avoiding his gaze, blue orbs simply stared into brown ones, a sinful guilt trickling out of them. "I do deserve it, John B. I drove him to be like this."

  "You didn't drive anyone anywhere, JJ. He's not a real man, only an excuse for a coward who takes his own misfortunes out on his child," John be signed, dabbing a cotton rounds with alcohol, bringing it up to JJ's face. "This might sting, bud."

  The alcohol did in fact sting, strangled and suppressed whimpers escaping the blond's lips until John B was finished. "Sh, we're all done now."

  With his face now free of glass shards and blood, the only noticable injuries were the scrapes left and the puffiness of his busted lip. John B could see the tiredness in his boyfriend's eyes, releasing the boy from his couch captivity whilst he left to return the first aid supplies to their normal places.

   JJ was quick to hop back off the couch, scurrying around in a slightly handicapped manner; gathering all the blankets, pillows, and hoodies he could find. He made a small nest on the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it around himself before holding it tightly against his chest.

  Bundled up and content with the amount of soft items he found, JJ set off towards John B's bedroom to find the older boy. John B was stood by the bed, preparing to toss an old Heywards hoodie over his bare torso. JJ assumed that Pope left that hoodie at the chateau sometime a year or two ago, and it ended up being one of the 'community' hoodies. JJ was pretty sure everyone in their group had worn it at some point, even Kie.

  John B caught his boyfriend's eye quickly, stopping his movements when JJ shook his head firmly. "I can't wear a hoodie?"

  "Nope," JJ stated firmly, shuffling forward to grab the brunette's hand. He tugged him right to the couch, shoving them both into the small den of blankets formed. John B didn't even have time to protest before he was covered in soft material, not that he would anyway. JJ was quick to curl himself into John B's bare torso, feeling all the tension slip from his body at the contact. Skin-to-skin contact was another thing JJ loved, it calmed him effectively and quickly. John B knew this, giving he was one of the only people JJ would allow himself to be that close with. Kiara and John B, that was it. He didn't know why, but stemming from his home life, JJ assumed he saw them almost as parental figures - except he was dating John B. It may not make much sense, but a lot of things about JJ don't make sense.

  "Can we go surfing tomorrow?" JJ asked suddenly.

  John B laughed, lightheartedly, loving everything about the boy in his arms. Giving a quick kiss to JJ's head, he smiled fondly.

  "Of course we can go surfing tomorrow, sunshine."

[nemesyaaa]

JJPOPE CORE 🫶🏿🫶🏿🫶🏿🫶🏿🫶🏿🫶🏿 (OBX SCREENWRITERS COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU.)

im dying...🫠🫠🫠🫠

[rotteneldritchhorror]

“Don’t treat me like you treat women, I know you don’t make them cum” — Barry [Lastname] to Rafe Cameron at some point during their relationship (and he’s right)

[areesvt]

jj is gay and a bottom and I have evidence to back my claims

I’m was a big believer in jj not being straight from the minute I first saw him, even before knowing jjpope existed as a ship

it was around the time season 4 of stranger things. I found out about something called “the hanky code” that queer men in the 80 used to signal to other queer men that they were gay

The placing of the hanky, in either the left or right back pocket of the leg wear, would communicate whether you were a top (dominant) or a bottom (submissive), with the left being for the former and the right for the latter.

and guess what? jj has his hanky in his right pocket which means he’s a bottom

And yes it’s always in his right pocket:

I mean LOOK

And no I don’t think it’s a fashion thing because my man has the worst fashion sense. It makes sense he wouldn’t be able to be out and proud in a place like the outer banks where 1)people are so god awful 2) his dad is like the worst human to grace the earth

headcanons aside I do belive this was a deliberate choice token for someone in the clothing department (someone who doesn’t really believes jj is straight or likes to think jj is a queer man) anyways I don’t think jj was supposed to be straight from the beginning of the show but the showeunners made him straight for the viewers because they wanted jiara to be canon..