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.
• The night before father's day, a day you always worked, Tipper suggested to Harris that he bring Johnny with him and Brody tomorrow when they went golfing (the course a part of the country club), and request the wonderful you for their cart girl. A king would be nothing without his queen, so Harris made sure of it.
You greeted him upon entry, inquiring on Tipper's whereabouts and if she'd be joining him — you always served her; she was such a lady.
"Noo, it's father's day. We'll be on the course," Harris answered. "If you dote on Tipper, you'll have no problem being our cart girl today, yes?" You hated being a cart girl. It was easy tips, but you felt so dirty getting ogled by men old enough to be your dad, or dad's dad. But you couldn't tell Harris Sinclair no. "Just my grandson, son-in-law, and I."
"Absolutely!" you smile, going behind the reception desk to check them in. While pulling up the system, said son-in-law and grandson enter, hauling in golf bags.
"Brody Sheffield," the older one tells you with a slight lean over the desk as he put down his bag, and the younger handed Harris' to him. You type in the name, then look to the grandson for his. Brody lands a pat on his back to prompt him to speak.
"Tell her your name, son," Harris instructs.
"Right, yeah, uh Johnny Sinclair Dennis," he says. You nod and start typing.
"Jonathan," Harris corrects. "Sinclair Dennis."
Johnny reluctantly nods in acceptance then repeats it to you with a 'can you believe this guy?' expression.
"Jonathan Sinclair Dennis."
You backspace to the O in Johnny and reenter the latter half of his name.
• Johnny takes every chance he gets around the course to talk to you. When you catch a particularly bad swing Brody goads him for, he brushes off his uncle's shitty quips, but notes to you he's more of a tennis guy, where hitting the ball requires arm strength and not just gravitial alignment.
Johnny asks what sport you prefer, actually, you must be pretty sick of both of them, having to deal with stuck up assholes play them all day and take their anger over losing out on you, and, God, he could only imagine what sore losers they were— until his male relative reminds him it was his go.
He comes right back to you after half-assing his shot (which was better than when he fully tried) just so it's be over quicker and he could talk to you again sooner. You found his eagerness to speak cute, but in that eagerness to speak, he realised he wasn't letting you speak, so he called himself out for it and apologised, but realised in doing that, he was just talking more, so still not letting you speak— "you should just interrupt me," makes you giggle.
"But that's rude," you remind him.
"So is not letting you speak."
"I don't mind. I prefer you rambling over the middle aged guys who think negging is the ultimate way to pick up girls the same age as their daughter."
"Ew."
"Tell me about it."
"Sorry you have to deal with that."
"It's not your fault. Besides, I mainly wait on your grandmother and her friends. And I prefer tennis. I also like the fashion more."
"Yeah?" You hum a nod. "Same, I feel like a jerk off right now; do I look like a jerk off?"
You chuckle, "not as much as your uncle looks like one."
Johnny feels his pants pocket for his belongings, all of which were there, but fakes missing something to go back inside while Brody and Harris load the car with their carts.
He catches you off guard, carrying two drink trays (you're both grateful that didn't go as badly as it could've), to ask for your number. You smile and agree to give it to him, listing off the digits whilst drink filled trays weigh heavy in your hands.
• Tipper notices Johnny hanging around Clairmont more (for the service), usually a precursor to him heading off island for a few hours, when the sweaters you used to arrive in because of that morning chill become men's crewnecks, cardigans traded for an oversized zip-up when your work that day was less customer — and therefore presentation — focused.
She catches Johnny texting a contact with your name early on and checks his etiquette because, "she's a good girl. And she deserves chivalry."
Post witnessing Johnny surprise you at work, lips meeting yours before you pull back, manicured hands on his chest, smiling "I can't kiss on the clock!" and Johnny brushes it off with something like "what? Your boss gonna fire his wealthiest patrons, the honourable Sinclairs, favourite waitress for kissing their obvious grandson?" Tipper asks if you intend to participate in this year's debutante ball, the one through the club?
You shake your head, "no, I'm not exactly the debutante type."
"How so?"
"I believe debutant's have generational wealth I do not, and isn't the ball's purpose to display the girls for potential suitors? I have a boyfriend..."
"My grandson, I'm aware," she replies, your cheeks growing red. "That was its purpose way back when, yes, but most of the girls these days have their boyfriends as escorts. It's tradition. And for a girl like yourself, think of it as your introduction into high society."
• Knowing you weren't the party type, Johnny invites you to Beechwood on a peaceful day for the island, that was still so overwhelming for you; coming to terms with the opulent nature of your boyfriend's life, and meeting his mother, who shows you baby photos of him (much to Johnny's embarrassment), every story he'd told you about his childhood hurting more with a visual of him at the time it happened/was happening. And his little brother, Will, who wants to talk about sharks for hours and "did you know we have sharks around the island?" "do you wanna know my favourite shark?" "I have a shark tooth necklace!" "did you know some sharks can't stop swimming because they'll stop breathing?"
"Yeah, ram ventilation," you answer. It lights Will up.
"You know about sharks too?!"
"I think everyone knows about sharks, Will—" Johnny interjects, but you and Will keep talking about the animal. "Since when were you a shark expert?" he asks later, walking you back to the dock (boyfriends and girlfriends weren't allowed to spend the night on Beechwood).
"I put documentaries on to go to sleep, but end up engrossed."
"Oh so you're nerd too," Johnny teasingly concedes, elbow nudging your side, causing you to squirm from it.
Once recomposed, you shrug, unburdened by the comment, "they say opposites attract."
It takes Johnny a second, then...
"Are you calling me stupid?"
"Lovably so."
"You're loveably so," Johnny respond, arm wrapping around your shoulders to bring you into him, other arm encasing your waist while attacking your face with kisses so you can't escape. Not that you try.
a/n: CUTIIIEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!! i actually need to write them more, I can't believe I left that request for so long, I love this!!!! they're so honeybee by olivia rodrigo
the show ending like it did with Johnny sitting on the counter??? this is the PERFECT setup for Family of Liars and the showrunners at Amazon better be damn well aware of that.
!!! WE WERE LIARS AND FAMILY OF LIARS SPOILERS !!!!
Whats your favourite horror movie?
Oh idk, probably the fact that we know now from Rosemary that if ghosts want to leave Beechwood Island, they can do so in a variety of ways, but Mirren, Gat and Johnny all wanted to swim away-
So they could be cool again and wouldn’t be burning-
ᝰ.ᐟ omggg can you imagine doing that “sorry babe I can’t afford to pay for dinner” tonight trend on Johnny – anon
contains: Johnny Sinclair ✗ fem!reader. teenagers making out and kissing. reader wears jeans. states of undress. reader has hair that can be tucked behind their ear. reader's girlfriends playing around discussing her rich boyfriend. use of "handsome" (towards Johnny) and "baby" (towards reader) as petnames. fluffff. 580 wc.
The plan of studying at Johnny's after school went out the window when you both opened your textbooks to realise you couldn't care less.
Hence your horizontal humming against each other's lips.
Ed and Carrie had taken Will to the movies — so you were home alone — and you'd taken off Johnny's shirt, and he'd taken off your jeans...
It was incredibly peaceful, feeling his heart hammering under your hand and fingers toying with the hips of your underwear — in no rush to do anything more than this.
Johnny's hand smooths up your side to your hair, tucking some stray strands behind your ear (just for something to do with his hands) as he pulls back an inch to ask, "do you wanna go out for dinner?"
Your answer to that question was always yes, because you never had to pay for it — and knew the Sinclairs had a fortune to spare so you never felt guilty about "making" Johnny cover the check.
Johnny's persistent paying was a joke among your friends and how "they needed to land a sugar boyfriend too." "Stop! We don't even think about money like that!" you'd insist. "Yeah! Because he's rich enough you don't have to!" the best of your friends would remind you while the most cynical would claim it was some kind of power play on his part to "feed his fragile masculinity," and you'd roll your eyes. So when your friend stumbled across a video of a girl messing with her Amex card carrying boyfriend, like she paid for their dates, it was swiftly sent your way with a "plleeeaasseee do this to Johnny next time he asks to go out and report back on his reaction 😭", and it was go time.
"Sorry, handsome, I can't afford to pay for dinner," you tell him with a manufactured sincerity, playing with the gold chain around his neck.
His head flies back in a way that would reveal a double chin if he was less lean, eyebrows speed knitting a deep crease in his forehead.
"What's that face for?" you question through a "clueless" smile. "You shouldn't furrow your brows like that; you'll get wrinkles," you lightheartedly note.
If nothing else, it gave Johnny time to collect himself.
"Baby," he starts, pushing himself to sit up, back against his pillows. You prop yourself up on an elbow. "When have you ever paid for anything when I'm around?"
Your jaw drops in mock offence.
"Are you calling me a freeloader?!" you jokingly accuse, hands supporting your lifted upper body.
"No," he clarifies, "I'm simply pointing out: I pay. All the time." You wrestle your upturning lips, tucking them back to nip between your teeth. "And I like paying!" he adds. "I love spending money on you! That and this—" his index pointing to the space between your bodies when you were making out previously, "favourite things in the world." You roll your eyes at him with affection. You really were the luckiest girl in the world. "So, care to explain where the idea of you paying tonight came from?"
"It was a joke between me and the girls," you giggle out, hands cupping his face to put your lips together again in loving pecks.
"Of course it was," he mutters, before melting into the kisses.
You stretch a leg over his lap to settle on top of him.
"And—" a kiss, "I'd love to go out for dinner," you answer.
a/n: HEY YALLLLL. GUESS WHO WROTE SOMETHIINNNGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm not gonna say I'm free but I am gonna say I'm feeling a LOT better than yesterday. anywayy I've missed johnny BAD since summer :(( I need my hot rich beachy boyfrriiieeennnndddduuuhhhhh
contains: Johnny Sinclair ✗ lovergirl!reader. brief mention (barely scratching the surface) of Johnny's childhood. the Seb Delgado incident. swearing. reader has curly hair. use of "baby" (towards reader) as a petname. nonsexual nudity (bathing together). kind of emotional breakdown (Johnny). jokingly suggestive invitation.
Johnny struggled with emotional intimacy, especially any expression of such.
Not to be cliché, but it was (clearly) from his childhood. The affection he did receive was cold — distant — and never sustaining.
So, when you came along, flowing with so much genuine care, it flooded him rather than soaking right in.
His hammering heart overfilled with your love and felt as if it was compressing his lungs. Lungs he'd attempted to use for your own good, screaming you weren't compatible — however, you read Johnny like a book, weathered yellow with wrinkled cracks in the spine, pages askew and some falling out, annotated to the letter.
With time, he came to breathe it all in, lean chest inflating under your temple.
It made him tear up every time.
Johnny got good at swiftly wiping his eyes and, before you could catch that movement, holding your head to his chest so you couldn't see his telling expression either, while he conducted himself how he'd learnt to now being with you.
His communication fell short but he knew he felt you in his heart, thus that's being where you went physically. It was grounding in a sense.
So of course he fucked it up.
You handled Johnny with an unfathomable* (to him) gentleness; how would you react finding out the violent force his — not only were capable of but — had inflicted? You were treating a brute like a butterfly.
Illogically* (in Johnny's opinion) well, actually...
Guilt tied his hands into confessing to you about what he'd done to Seb Delgado, through shaky breath and pacing in front of you sat on the foot of his bed.
"Come here?" you requested, warm open arms even welcoming him closer. Why would you want an asshole like him near you? The question knits a crease between his tidied brows.
"I won't hate you if you leave," he said.
"Why would I leave? You're hurting; come here..."
"I hurt someone else," he "corrected", lowering himself to sit beside you.
"Ever heard the phrase "hurt people hurt people," Johnny?"
"Yeah? But that's not—"
"It is." Your voice was still all affectionate, yet stern. He conceded to a small nodding.
"Sooo, what? You don't...care?"
"Of course I care. You should apologise, explain — don't excuse your actions, because they were wrong, Johnny, I'm not wavering on that," you state. "And I'll send Seb and the Delgados my greatest sympathy and well wishes for recovery."
"Mom's already paid them off so..."
"Money isn't everything — you know that."
He nodded again, "I'll draft an apology."
"Good."
Johnny wasn't sure he fit the title.
Nevertheless, you were here. And in the spring!
"Winter really dried your curls out..." you comment, twirling a tuft of his hair around your finger, his head in your criss cross lap as you were scratching his scalp.
Training had been rained out so you were rewatching favourite movies and Johnny was always your solution when stuck for what to do with your hands.
"Hm, baby?" he hums, diverting his eyes from the screen up to you.
"The cold weather dried out your hair; you need to get your curls back."
"Why? You miss 'em?" he teases.
"You know I do," you affirm, leaning down to kiss his lips. Johnny melts into your mouth, catching multiple strong smells of your perfume and...something else? from that angle.
"You smell amazing," he remarks when you sit back up.
"Thank you, it's the perfume your mom and Will got me as a birthday present."
"That, yeah, but something less floral-y too?"
You think back to scented products you'd used: perfume, moisturiser (but not on your neck), body wash, body scrub, shampoo, conditioner, curl cream—
"My hair products?"
"Yes!"
You giggle at it, then think...
"Speaking of them actually," you start, "can I do a curl routine on you?"
"Now, what would that entail, exactly?" Johnny hesitantly inquires.
"Doing your hair how I do my hair so your curls curl again since they're looking a little...lifeless."
He'd act more dramatically offended if he didn't agree that his hair had seen better days, so he scoffs, hand over his heart, "fine."
"Okay!" you exclaim, already moving to get up and to the bathroom.
"Wait— like I'm trading your lap for a sink now?!" Johnny asks, having been rudely disrupted.
"We don't have to do it in the sink. It'd probably be the most comfortable in the bath and we just wash off real good in the shower."
His demeanour changes to positively intrigued. You could roll your eyes; he wasn't slick.
"You wanna bathe together?"
"Yeah," you smile.
"Okay, yeah, I'm down with that," he agrees, rushing off your bed and to the bathroom.
Despite his efforts, you stop at hair washing and talking (and the occasional kiss), and, to his surprise, he's still pleased. With your legs either side of him, stomach as a pillow, hands working with his wet hair, Johnny would happily stay here forever.
You're massaging shampoo onto his scalp, being unnecessarily thorough, at the time your tender care registers and surrounds Johnny like the water submerging you both, starting to close in and suffocate him.
After everything, the stained red hands that "just nicked" his wide blue eye, swelling purple, his own hands exacerbated plagiarism or just plain negligence, you never failed to treat him delicately.
He sucks in a deep breath, the kind that bloats his abdomen, then exhales.
It does nothing to dull or dissipate the cry begging and pleading desperately to escape.
His tears sprout anyway.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit—
"Did some get in your eye?" you question with calm concern.
You were always so attentive.
A choked "yeah" would be the easy way out, and you deserved better than that.
Johnny shakes his head.
"Then why are your eyes watery?"
His body screams for him to abort mission, refusing to let himself cry, moreover, in front of you.
A forced chuckle through audible upset exits his mouth, "you're so tender with me..." You can hear his throat feels like barbed wire.
"Johnny, you're worrying me; are you okay?"
Water sloshes around the tub as he turns to face you and pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. You hold him back reflexively, seemingly the trigger for small sobs.
"Johnny?"
"You're so gentle with me," he weeps, "and I don't deserve it — I'm— I'm not—"
You're taken off guard by this breakdown, but tightly wrap him back into your arms.
"Hey, you are deserving of it. And you always have been."
"Obviously not," he "chuckles."
"You didn't deserve that, Johnny. You have to know that."
He does, in principle. Doesn't mean he felt that way though.
"You've just never experienced care before, so it's overwhelming. Right?"
You knew him so well.
"Yeah, overwhelming, yeah," he confirms in sharp breaths.
"Hey," you hold his head from over your shoulder in front of your face, "breathe with me. Deep breath in," he inhales, "hold," he could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears, "exhale," his breath fans over you, and you repeat that pattern until his heartbeat is no longer in his ears. "Better?"
He nods, "yeah."
"Okay."
"...can we get out and just do this another time?"
"Of course," you more than willinging comply, "do you want to rinse off to avoid body acne?"
He huffs out a laugh, "probably should, yeah."
"Okay," you accept, sliding around Johnny for the plugged drain.
Johnny hoisted himself out of the tub as you switch the water to the showerhead, admiring eyes never leaving you.
"Hey, you can use washing me off as an excuse to feel me up if you want — lift your spirits," you (half-)joke.
Johnny laughs.
a/n: Johnny:
also maybe the ending of this is bad, i dont knooowwww 😭😭😭😭 I'm tired but wanted to get this out for tonight so please excuse if there's typos or whatever I missed in my proof reading. this didn't start as a "story" but that's where it took me and you know what? whatever
contains: sfw and nsfw questions, fem/afab!reader, lots of mentions of his shitty father and his effects on Johnny's psyche, talks of like everything in a romantic relationship?
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
spent for a minute where you'll probably get a breathy "holy fuck..." that makes you giggle and nuzzle up to him, then "do you need anything? do you want me to help?" You roll your eyes with affection, "I think I can go pee by myself, Johnny." "...do you want me to help you walk to the bathroom?" (he does because you're not trying to ruin your bliss by putting strength back into your limbs yet.) While you clean up, fix up your hair, what have you, Johnny's grabbing water and a snack, like you just finished a little league game. You come back to bed, and find a bottle of water in your spot and pieces of cut up orange in a bowl on his lap. "You got us orange slices?" "Yeah...?" "You're adorable," and he'll never admit how much he loves you calling him that. Johnny puts on some movie you've both seen a million times (but your love for it never fades) and fills with satisfaction when you fall asleep before him.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also yours)
Johnny likes his arms, strong from all that training and tennis, hands, long legs, hair (mainly when you play with it), but doesn't know where to begin on his favourite part of you. If he had to give one hard answer, he'd say your lips. However, he could go on for hours about how soft your hair is and pretty your eyes are and the little sounds you make when he kisses your neck and how wide his eyes still get feeling up your chest and the security he feels holding your waist and your hips and your ass— you get the point.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Johnny lives to cuddle. Anything that momentary dulls his need to merge into one with you, he's a BIG fan of. The go-to is: your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders/waist, keeping you tucked to his side, one of your legs thrown over his, his hands under that leg's thigh, holding it in place across his lap. He's a sucker for your stomach as a pillow, his arms wrapped around your waist, too though.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
(!not in a relationship with you!) interested in the idea of a threesome with Gat, knows Gat would never, so never brings it up. but jokes about it a LOT
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
so much of Johnny is talk. He's barely not a virgin with his two — MAX four — bodies. Given his lack of experience (but not non-existent experience!) he knows the basics, and looks to you for the rest.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
if Johnny thinks about commitment too much, he feels suffocated and can't do it. So he doesn't. Johnny proposes when he feels the passion to. He's already so dedicated, what's a — giant — pretty rock on your finger and a party? You both agree not to be assholes on the legal side of things, and you're married. He looovvveesss calling you his wife when away for matches and complaining to his teammates about missing you. He loves having you in his phone as "[y/n] aka MY WIFE!!!!!" He loves reporters referring to you as his wife. He loves excessively reminding everyone you're his wife. He loves you, his wife.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Johnny's very touch tank by quinnie; he tells you he's gentle when he wants to be, so he wants to be gentle with you. He's very in tune to when and where he can keep up that persona he's spent so much time defining himself as, versus be incredibly soft with you.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Yes. All the time. Encasing.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
stupidly fast like a middle schooler in their first relationship. he's a very expressive person! Johnny really says it though for the first time in a peaceful moment between you two, maybe after your first time together, air thick with your love for each other (even if you hadn't used that word for it yet), some skinship. He takes his time letting it come out of his mouth. "I love you." You give those three words their moment, before... "I love you too, Johnny." And he's certain his heart's going to burst. But it doesn't, and he keeps living, loving and being loved by you.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
JEALOUS. Stemming from his childhood of Carrie favouring Will, it's always a trigger when he has to fight for your attention. His first line of defence is clingy affection, like maybe you just forgot he was around or thought reaching for your boyfriend right now was unnecessary/inappropriate, so he came to you. If he still doesn't receive that acknowledge he's looking for, he gets distant, and pissy. All snide remarks and snarky quips until you tell him to cut it out, he's being ridiculous, and he questions "am I?!" Having been down both paths many times, you either deescalate and get him to be open and honest with you, or it turns into a full blown argument you regret in thirty minutes anyway.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
Johnny gets drunk off your lips, and acts like it, becoming malleable, entering a haze, and unable to stop till you pull him out of it, usually giggling that he's gonna suffocate you. Lips are his default favourite, to kiss and to be kissed, but also really loves your neck and his collarbone.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
(as can be seen with Will) incredibly good with kids and it's unreasonably attractive. First time meeting your extended family, Johnny's missing after half an hour and you're petrified your male relatives have cornered him, but you find him with your little cousins, dutifully learning a dance the girls were teaching him. "Johnny?" "Oonne seccoonndd, I keep messing up my clap and my snap." "It's snap then clap!" the girls scold with a groan, clearly sick of Johnny's persistent mistake. You watch until he gets it right, the girls are happy, and you can go back to your cousins your age— "I promised the boys I'd play tag with them," which makes the girls pipe up, "we wanna play tag too!" Saying goodbye, your aunts comment about how maybe next time they'll get to see him more, having been occupied with the little ones all day, and you tell him how cute you found him with them on your way home. Johnny shrugs, "I'm a big brother. Besides, beats sitting at a table with the adults discussing our college plans." He's so confused when you jump his bones the second you get home.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
assuming you slept over after his matches/meeting Saturday morning, lazy. It's Sunday! Why would he want to get out of bed where he's all warm cuddled up under the blankets with you sooner than he has to?! And when else would he get the time to press his morning wood up against you? As for weekday mornings, he's up early — too early (in your opinion) — to run, and his arrival home is your alarm. He showers while you get dressed, dresses (from the towel he walked in with around his waist, being quite the distraction in the mirror's reflection) while you do your hair and makeup. Sweetly domestic overall.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything violent. Johnny'll tease and be cocky and a little mean — if that's what you want — but he'd never hit you. No matter what. "Choking" (it's strangling) is really off the table since Carrie isn't shy to speak (as she shouldn't be as a survivor!!) about domestic abuse and the "if he isn't scared to strangle you, he isn't scared to kill you," fact. Growing up seeing his father be violent towards his mother completely turns him off anything similar, "consensual" and "in a kinky way" or not.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
"no blowjobs for [however long]" is a serious threat to Johnny. He makes an attempt to be nonchalant at the beginning of basically every one you give him, not that the act lasts long before he's gripping whatever he can in a fist and rambling out whiny "thank you"s. He's not bad at going down on you, he likes to, you enjoy the experience, when he looks up at you? Oh your God— but he's better with his hands.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
seriously? at you? You would've had to cheat on him with his dad or something. Rooting back to that father, Johnny can't bring himself to get angry, to any degree, with you even in the room. But in general? pretty short fuse that rarely reaches the end of its line. He tries to not take things too seriously most of the time.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
everything. Dude is a walking encyclopedia for his partner. And is all too happy to cater to your every preference. (He's lowkey that ""if an attractive person disagrees with me i will immediately change my views. i have no principles." "maybe you should have principles" "you're right maybe i should."" meme) It's an unfair advantage he has come your birthday/christmas time; all the money to spend AND knows what to spend it on.
R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)
definitely sometime on Beechwood. Maybe the fourth of july party, maybe skinny dipping, maybe something as innocent as running around with the goldens on the grass or him on the sand. Johnny doesn't miss a chance to reminisce on it though, that's for sure.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
SUPER protective. You call him overprotective, because he knows you can handle your own, he just likes also being there. Given, you know, New York, the sidewalk rule is common place, along with him always making himself a shield for whatever hypothetical could come your way. Johnny needs to be around you all the time — just in case something goes south! Starting to get dark? "I'm coming with you." Taking the subway? "I'll join you." Going out with your girlfriends? "Okay, but I could be a help to the whole group." You never tell him his presence does make you feel safer, and he doesn't need you to. He can tell. That's why he still does it. And he laps it up when you verbally go to bat for him.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
his Olympics. Johnny spares NOTHING when it comes to anniversaries, and spares very little when it comes to dates and gifts. And like stated in Q, it's always perfect. Whether it's exactly what you wanted or just had the best thought behind it, Johnny never misses. He assures you that you never do either, and while you trust him, you know you're not as on the mark as he is.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
biting his nails. You swat his hand away and scold him for it all the time, but still end up manicuring his nails so they don't look like he bites them to the nub.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
can't shut the fuck up to save his life. Most of it is incoherent babbling you tune out, but his moans? You'd never focus on anything else.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
WAYYYY too easy to get pics out of and trick into whimper audios. "I'm sad you're not here. bicep pic for your sad girlfriend?" and there's no hesitation on his end to send a photo through. "Can you record yourself doing push ups and saying my name in between each one?" "How many? push ups i mean" You say jump, he asks how high!!
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
lean. Not the type that can bulk. And a good five and a half to six inches max he can use well.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
high. Being a teenage boy and all, there isn't really a time Johnny isn't down to have sex. And he's nearly always up for multiple rounds too. Like he isn't going to be up at five am to run tomorrow. He's good at reading when you're exhausted and need to stop, despite not saying it, because of that though.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)
(as previously mentioned in C) CUDDLERRRR. A pillow, you, even Will when he's come in after his nightmares, Johnny needs to be holding something to sleep well. It's almost Pavlov-ed him in a way that he's out cold within a couple minutes of cuddling. Goodbye to that movie you'd really been wanting to watch with each other.
a/n: sorry if this is ass (especially the later half) I just wanted to get it out tonight and it's currently 2:24 am and my vision's a little blurry so I'm posting this and sleeping. been on a REAL Johnny kick lately. THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
