#johnny sinclair

JOSEPH ZADA as JOHNNY SINCLAIR

contains: Johnny Sinclair × fem!reader. reader talks with her hands. mention of reader has a cat (just imagine it says another animal if cat doesn't fit you); she's an animal lover. swearing. mention of a part of Johnny's abuse. calling him by his name, not nickname. suggestive comment at the end. 611 wc.

You couldn't even remember what got you going; what could have irritated you while strolling around Edgartown with your boyfriend's arm around your shoulders, stopping for ice cream before the boat ride back to Beechwood? Not that it mattered anymore anyways, currently bitching Johnny out about your every unrelated issue, shutting down any opportunity of him getting a word in.

"I haven't seen my cat in a month! So you could bring me, to your family's private island,"

"Ba—"

JOHNNY SINCLAIR X READER WORD COUNT:1241 REQUEST: OPEN

The first crack of thunder jolted you awake.

For a second, you just lay there in the dark, blinking at the ceiling while rain hammered softly against the windows. Then another rumble rolled across the sky, low and deep enough to make the glass in the frame vibrate.

A tiny voice beside you whispered, “Mama?”

You turned immediately, heart softening all at once. Your child was curled up under the blanket at the edge of the bed, eyes wide in the dark, little fists clutching the sheet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you said quietly, brushing their hair back from their forehead. “It’s okay.”

Another flash of lightning lit the room for half a second. Your child squeaked and scooted closer, practically climbing into your side.

Before you could say anything else, Johnny’s arm reached across the mattress from behind you, warm and steady. He had been asleep only a moment ago, but he was awake now, voice still rough with sleep.

“I think,” he murmured, “that this is officially pirate weather.”

Your child blinked at him. “Pirate weather?”

Johnny propped himself up on one elbow, hair a mess, face half-hidden in the pillow, and somehow still managed to look like he had just been waiting for this exact moment. “Absolutely. Thunder means there’s a storm at sea. And storms at sea mean pirates.”

Your child’s eyes widened a little. “Real pirates?”

“The best kind,” Johnny said solemnly. “The kind who are brave and dramatic and probably very bad at sharing treasure.”

A small smile tugged at your child’s mouth, but another roll of thunder made them burrow into your side again.

Johnny reached over and lightly tapped your child’s blanket. “Captain,” he said, “you are currently aboard the finest ship in all the seven seas.”

Your child peeked out from the blanket. “This is a bed.”

“This,” Johnny corrected, “is the deck of the Sea Biscuit.”

You let out a sleepy laugh despite yourself. “The Sea Biscuit?”

“It’s a very serious vessel,” he said, glancing at you with mock offense. “Don’t disrespect her.”

Another thunderclap crackled overhead, and your child gasped. Johnny immediately lifted one hand and pointed dramatically toward the window.

“Ah. Cannon fire.”

Your child stared. “Cannon fire?”

“Yes,” Johnny said, nodding as if explaining the most normal thing in the world. “The enemy ships are trying to scare us. But they can’t. Because we have a captain.”

He put a hand to his chest and then, with exaggerated ceremony, lowered his voice. “Captain, report. Are we afraid?”

Your child hesitated, then nodded a little.

Johnny’s expression softened instantly. The joking was still there, but his voice gentled around the edges. “That’s all right,” he said. “Brave doesn’t mean not scared. Brave means you stay on the ship anyway.”

Your child looked at him very seriously. “You’re brave?”

Johnny’s eyes flicked to you for one second, then back to your child. “Only on my good days.”

That earned a tiny laugh, small but real, and you felt your shoulders relax a little. The storm outside was still loud, but Johnny had somehow built a whole other world inside the room, one that was safe and strange and bright enough to push the fear back a little.

“Okay,” your child said after a moment. “What happens now?”

Johnny smiled. “Now we sail through the storm. But first, we need to check the crew.”

He pointed to you. “First mate?”

You yawned. “Slightly overworked first mate.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Any reports?”

You squeezed your child closer. “The crew is tired. One of them is scared of thunder.”

Johnny gasped and put a hand over his heart. “A thunderphobic sailor. Tragic. We’ll have to protect them immediately.”

Your child giggled now, the sound small but growing warmer as the storm carried on outside.

Johnny shifted carefully, reaching over to your bedside table. His hand found the small lamp and turned it on, leaving the room in a soft golden glow instead of darkness. The shadows retreated.

“There,” he said. “Much better. No ghost pirates with the lights on.”

Your child leaned against his arm, calmer now. “Are there ghost pirates?”

“Of course there are,” Johnny said. “But they’re not very scary. Mostly just rude.”

You snorted into the blanket, and he glanced at you with a grin that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

He kept going, building the story piece by piece, speaking with that same easy rhythm he used when he was trying to make all of you laugh.

“The captain,” he announced, “must steer the ship through the storm. The waves are enormous. The crew is nervous. The moon is hiding. And somewhere out there, hidden beyond the rain, is the island of the Golden Blanket.”

Your child looked up, fascinated. “The Golden Blanket?”

“The only place in the world where stormy nights become sleepy nights,” he said. “But it can only be found by the bravest captain.”

Your child sat up straighter, the fear easing out of their face in tiny pieces. “I can be captain.”

Johnny’s smile turned proud and warm. “I knew you could.”

He made a grand sweeping gesture toward the ceiling. “Captain, what is your first command?”

Your child thought seriously for a second. Then they said, “Go faster.”

Johnny laughed. “A bold choice.”

He lowered his voice, pretending to grip an invisible wheel. “Then it is done.”

The three of you stayed like that for a while, huddled together under the blanket while Johnny narrated the imaginary voyage like the world’s most committed storyteller. Every thunderclap became a wave. Every flash of lightning became a lighthouse in the distance. Every burst of wind against the windows became the sea itself trying and failing to catch you.

At some point, your child’s eyelids started to droop.

You noticed first, because they were leaning more and more heavily against your side. Their breathing had slowed. Their small hand had loosened on the blanket.

Johnny noticed too. He lowered his voice even more, turning the story softer, gentler.

“And the captain,” he said, “after steering the ship through the storm, reached the island of the Golden Blanket. There, the captain found a warm bed, a safe room, and the best crew in the whole world.”

Your child’s eyes fluttered open. “Did they win?”

Johnny brushed your child’s hair back from their face. “They always win, because they’re never alone.”

That did it.

Your child gave one last sleepy smile and curled fully into the blankets. A minute later, their breathing evened out completely, the tension gone from their shoulders, their face soft in sleep.

You looked at Johnny, and he gave you a quiet smile in return, one full of that private, tired affection that made your chest ache.

“Pirates,” you whispered.

Johnny shrugged, though he looked pleased. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, careful not to disturb the sleeping child between you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, settling back against the pillows, “I am a hero.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling when you did it.

Outside, the storm kept going, all thunder and rain and wind. Inside, your child slept peacefully, one hand still tangled in the blanket like they were holding on to the ship.

Johnny reached for your hand under the covers and squeezed it once, soft and certain.

“Goodnight, Captain,” he whispered.

chapters: 9/? fandom: we were liars rating: teen pairing: johnny sinclair dennis x male!oc (other background ships included) word count: 4,130 content warnings: discussions of underage grindr usage and some internalized homophobia rhetoric from johnny

“What do you want, Jonathan?”  Johnny's familiar frame walks side-by-side with Dallas. "You were cheating on me out there, Ruiz." Dallas's head flinches back. "Um, what?" Johnny gives Dallas a look that implies he should've understood exactly what he meant. “You played an amazing match with someone who’s not me.” That's almost laughable. Did the deuce make Johnny jealous? “I’ll save some momentum for you.” "I don't want some of it. I want all of it.”

(I'm so invested in their family you don't even know)

LMAOOOO they’re both right where they want to be

and ava got married (i forgot take photos)