Jun 22, 2025
Joseph Zada as Johnny Sinclair Dennis — WE WERE LIARS 1.03 "The Ties Were Black, the Lies Were White"
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
Joseph Zada as Johnny Sinclair Dennis — WE WERE LIARS 1.03 "The Ties Were Black, the Lies Were White"
Johnny Sinclair ✗ soft!fem!reader ─── (requested!)
• a summer job at Martha's country club led you to meeting the Mrs Sinclair: Tipper Taft.
She adored you; the bows you tied in your hair, the cozy cardigans for that sea breeze and short, layered ruffled skirts you paired with your uniform polo to spruce it up, your hospitality and sweet face all came together to make her favourite waitress.
All Tipper's rich lady friends had tried to set you up with their grandsons at least once, singing praises you sure weren't entirely true because what guy didn't put on a good boy persona for his grandmother, making you politely decline, flattered but flustered — and most importantly: uninterested in the event.
Accompanying the group out after yet another lunch where another woman with a voluminous bob showed you pictures of her grandson on her phone she didn't quite know how to use, you mentioned your favour for Tipper to her in a quiet comment, citing the fact she hadn't attempted to play matchmaker. And she smiled, hand rubbing up and down your back, like she would never.
loml (Love/Loss of my life)
Requested: Kinda? Prompted in comments but got a request from @reader-bookling123 (I changed the ending a bit as it fit better)
like I need my angst of them being so in love but reader being the first to die in the fire and johnny just finds her corpse before he kicks the bucket like five minutes later and like these two were sweethearts like so in love
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR WE WERE LIARS. Death, profanity, hints to racism towards a character (Not from reader). Some descriptions of bodily harm and death.
Pairing: Johnny Sinclair Dennis x Reader
Playlist: Old Money - Lana Del Rey, loml-Taylor Swift, I Know The End - Phoebe Bridgers, Cowboy Like Me - Taylor Swift, Lost At Sea - Rob Grant & Lana Del Rey
Authors note: I read the book and loved it but that was years ago so this is based mostly on the prime show. I usually write a female reader but left it vague this time. Since there is so little Johnny fics I wanted to be inclusive. Also, the show made Johnny canonically into men so I didn’t want to take from that. As always, leave comments and thoughts. I’d love to hear feedback.
I'm sure I have run on sentences, too much detail, etc. But I am not a professional writer and rusty af. I loved how this turned out so ignore any grammar error!!
Stop.
Joseph Zada as Johnny Sinclair We Were Liars 1.03 | "The Ties Were Black, the Lies Were White"
Hi lovely <3 can I get a Johnny Sinclair x reader fic where instead of will taking the kayak out, reader does because her and Johnny got into a fight and she hadn’t realized how bad the storm was going to be. When Johnny does the thing where he pushes her to the boat and lets himself almost drown, she’s screaming for Gat to help. When they get back to the house, she is livid and sad that Johnny would let himself drown and think that she would just be able to live her life without him.
DROWNING THE CLOWNING
Summary: After a fight with Johnny, you leave Beechwood; at least, that was your plan before the storm arrived and sank you into the sea.
Warnings: I think this is a very toxic relationship. The ending wasn't very well done, I apologize for that, reader and Johnny with suicidal thoughts, but otherwise everything is fine, Ig! English is not my first language, please forgive any grammatical errors.
I hope you like this 🙏 I wrote it while having a lot of fun. I really appreciate your request. Thanks for that 💞
Requests are open about anyone!
new jo pic via Camille’s tiktok comments
OH WHO IS THIS DIVA? 💜
Thunderstorm
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.
And for the first time that night, the thunder sounded far away.