Lucky

lucky

Scenario: You have won a unique opportunity to talk to your favorite guitarist in his dressing room.

Warnings: smut, female reader, daddy kink, degrading kink, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, oral sex (both), masturbation (reader), slaps, multiple rounds (two orals and one p in v), dacryphillia.

Word count: 2.9k

a/n: I was told today (literally right now) that I have a work presentation for tomorrow at school, I'm not going to proofread this. English is not my first language.

You just watched a Hollywood Vampires show and still feel the chills. It was only two hours long, but you loved every second of it, especially since you were close to the stage, getting a prime view of your favorite member, Johnny Depp. You recorded him, took pictures, shouted praises… You acted like the fangirl you are for him.

But you were more excited for what was about to come… When entering the stadium, some staff distributed papers with numbers to the crowd, it was a draw in which the prize would be a visit to a member's dressing room. Then, after the show, they revealed the winning numbers. And, being the lucky girl you are, you won a chat with the guitarist and vocalist Johnny Depp.

You follow the staff through the halls behind the stage, anxiously looking around, searching for Depp’s dressing room. You don’t know what you will talk about or even ask or do. Your heart races in anticipation as the staff slow their pace, indicating that his door is near. Your palms start sweating, and you hold your phone tightly, hands shaking. Should you ask him for a selfie first? Or a hug?

Before they open the door, they check if you’re carrying something that might be harmful. Once you show you’re clean, they step aside and let you enter. Inside, there’s him. Johnny Depp. He was drinking something clear in a small cup, sitting on an armchair with his legs crossed. You shyly step closer, shaking in excitement, finally meeting your idol. His eyes look up at you before raising his head, you shiver.

He grins and stands up, walking towards you. “Hello, sweetheart. What is your name?” He reaches to take your hand, lifting it to kiss your knuckles. You stutter your name, clearly self-conscious of your sweaty palms. He chuckles softly, amused. “You’re a pretty little thing. Come, have a seat.” He leads you to the armchair he was sitting in a few seconds ago. You settle down, hands on your lap, holding your phone.

“Did you like the show?” He crosses his arms, grinning. You nod and gasp softly for air. “C-Can we take a selfie together?” You point to your phone and hold your breath. He nods “Of course, sweetheart.” He places a hand on your waist as you stand up. You raise your phone and smile the best you can, taking a picture. It didn’t turn out well since your hand was shaking. “That’s okay, we can take another one later.” He reassures, stroking your back. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. The man of your dreams, your idol, was so fucking close to you. His tattooed hand on you was impossible to ignore, and his strong perfume was so masculine and intoxicating.

“You came here alone?” He asks, tilting his head, and you nod. “And why that? Did your boyfriend refuse to accompany you tonight?” He asks indifferently, his words disguising his real intention — to find out if you were in a relationship. “Um? N-No, I actually don’t have a boyfriend.” You scratch the back of your neck, releasing an awkward chuckle. “Really? I find it hard to believe, you're too beautiful to be single.” He winks, teasing you as if you weren't already shy enough. “It is true! I don't have a boyfriend, actually never had one, I'm even still a virg-” You cut yourself off as you notice you're just rambling about anything that goes on your mind, your face heating up in embarrassment.

Johnny's eyebrows shut up in surprise but he chuckles softly in amusement, he finds you very interesting. You think he's laughing at you, which is compressible. You probably look like a weird fangirl who acts like a teenager.

“I'm sorry for that” You sigh and he shakes his head. “I don't mind, you're cute when stumbling over your own words.” He comments, still smirking charmingly. His thumb caresses your side since his hand is still on your waist. “Am I your favorite?” He teases again and you nod. “I'm your biggest fan, I'm so happy I won this chance to be here and talk with you.” You say proudly, smiling. “Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow, his smirk still on his face. “So, you’re quite devoted to me, huh?” He towers over you, god have mercy. “Uh…Y-Yeah, I think I am” You chuckle nervously. “Oh yes, you are.” He holds your hips “I can see it, pretty thing, you can’t disguise it.” His smirk darkens.

Johnny’s hands move to your thighs and slide up slowly, tracing a path between your legs with his rough fingers. He watches your face the whole time, studying your reactions, until his dominant hand cups your heat. His fingers press hard against your clothed folds, his smirk widening as he feels the wetness. “This is for me, isn’t it?” He whispers, leaning closer. His fingers keep caressing your sensitiveness. “Bet if I order you something you would obey blindly, wouldn’t you?” He looks deep into your eyes.

Speechless, and clearly thinking with your pussy instead of your head, you nod. Hell yeah, you would do anything for this man in a heartbeat, without even questioning your morals. Johnny is pleased by your answer, he looks down at you, holding your chin. “Sit down, now.” He commands with a gentle push. You settle down, and your breathing is already getting altered. “Touch yourself like you would if I wasn’t here, like you would when you’re alone in your bedroom.” He says firmly, crossing his arms and staring down at you. You blink in surprise, unsure if you heard it right. But, under his hard stare, you wouldn’t want to do anything other than what you heard come out of his mouth.

You spread your legs and slowly slide your hand under your shorts, your fingers meeting the damp fabric of your panties. You drag your hips forward, trying to get comfortable as your fingertips stroke small circles on your clothed clit. Johnny licks his lips and points “Take them off, come on.” He demands “Let me see that pretty little pussy”. You obey him, of course, and hook your thumbs on your waistband, slowly pulling your shorts and panties down and letting them pool on your ankles. Johnny groans in approval and gestures to you to continue. You slide two fingers over your slit, slicking them, before slowly sinking them inside.

You feel quite nervous, but very agitated, with Johnny watching your every movement. Your breath becomes slightly deeper as you start thrusting your thin fingers inside, closing your eyes to try to amplify the sensations. Johnny chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Oh my... You need me, don’t you?” He mocks you, asking with his voice high-pitched. You only nod at him, your lips forming a pout. “Then beg for it, you dirty slut.” He suddenly turns stern, asserting his dominance - as if you ever doubted it.

“P-Please” You choke it out, but that isn’t enough. He raises his eyebrows, silently ordering you to continue. “Please, Johnny-” He interrupts you with a hard glare and you immediately understand. “Please, Daddy, I need you!” You beg, now correcting yourself and repeating a few please’s after. He nods, kneeling between your legs. “That’s right, little bitch.” He grumbles, placing your legs over his shoulders. He throws his sunglasses somewhere and dives his head, giving your needy clit a teasing lick with the tip of his tongue, making you whine in frustration. He chuckles menacingly, his hot breath hitting your wet flesh, making you squirm.

He gives your pussy open-mouthed kisses, his tongue occasionally going out and licking your folds. He starts sucking and nipping your wet skin, bringing shaky moans out of your mouth. You try to grind on his face, craving for more, but he smacks your thigh with his palm, making you cry softly. “Know your place, whore.” He growls against your pussy. You release a shaky breath, still feeling the sting from his palm but fucking enjoying it, your pussy clenching around the air with anticipation. He slides his tongue inside your spasming cunt, licking the insides fervently and moaning in approval. His eyes move up, staring hard at you through his lashes.

You feel your orgasm getting closer given the combination of the elements is overwhelming: Your pussy is getting eaten by a man, and this man is no one less than Johnny Depp. And he seems to notice it as well since he slows his pace just to frustrate you. “Not yet, slut.” He warns “You don’t get to cum until I say so”. You whine a bit louder than the last time, gripping the armrests of your seat. “I need to cum, Daddy” You cry out, staring down at him, already feeling the harkening pooling on your lower stomach, ready to escape and make a mess.

“Beg for it, whore. Convince me to let you cum on my tongue.” He grips your thighs harder, his fingers digging into your skin, it will certainly leave a mark for the next few days. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it and burying his face further between your legs. “Fuck- Please, Daddy! Please, please, let me cum, Daddy.” You plead and pray for him, your heart bursting. Johnny loves hearing you beg for him, seeing you all vulnerable under his efforts. He wraps his lips around your clit and gives a strong suck, the tip of his tongue flicking over your sensitive spot. “Cum for me, you filthy little slut.” He commands, leaning back and delivering a slap on your clit. With his flat hand, he strokes your bundle of nerves rapidly, prolonging the burn from the sting. You become a whimpering mess, your legs shaking violently. “Cum all over my mouth like the desperate whore you are.” He teases you, his pace never faltering. 

Johnny laps and dives his tongue in your entrance, stimulating you until you orgasm, dripping your juice on his face. He licks you clean, savoring the taste. “I could eat this pussy for hours.” He mutters and leans back, staring at your face. You open your mouth, ready to ask for more, but stop as his hand goes down to your clit, delivering another slap. You gasp sharply, shutting your eyes. But instead of complaining, you drag your hips forward, silently asking for more. “You like it, huh? Do you like being spanked on your little clit?” He taunts, punctuating each word with a slap, your legs twitching with the stimulation. “You’re so pathetic, just a lil’ slut for me, hm?” He chuckles darkly and stands up.

Johnny starts undoing his leather pants, skilled fingers dancing on his zipper. “You’re going to suck me now.” He isn’t asking. Once he pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, your eyes widened. His cock stands tall and proud, bouncing as Johnny steps out of his pants and underwear. “Woah..” You gasp, almost comically. “What?” He raises an eyebrow, spitting on his hand and stroking his cock a few times, stepping closer to you. “I’m not.. used to this si-” You gag as Johnny grips your hair and forces his cock down your throat. “Less talking, more sucking, whore.” He commands, pushing your head rhythmically.

“Be a good girl and make daddy proud.” Johnny murmurs, his eyes narrowing as you finally start to suck him. He is thick, you could feel the corners of your lips ripping as he stretches your mouth. He whispers a few curses under his breath, his grip tightening as he pushes your head deeper to take all of him, ignoring the sound of your struggles.

“Yes, keep those pretty eyes watering.” He smirks, his hand brushing your hair back to look better at you. Johnny rocks his hips faster, his thrusts meeting your bobbing head. His balls are slapping your chin. The curved tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, your eyes shutting due to the first sting of discomfort. He just taps your cheek with his hand “Eyes open, bitch.” He pushes your head down, your nose on his happy trail, choking you for a few seconds before pulling it out harshly. Holding the base, he hits your cheek with his length, also nudging it on your face, smearing precum.

“Bet you want this stuffing your tight cunt, huh?” He taunts again, “Today’s your lucky day, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” He pulls you up and turns you around, bending you over the armchair, as if you weighed nothing, as if you were just a doll. He smacks your buttocks, leaving red handprints on your smooth flesh. You moan to each slap, back arching. He slides a hand, teasing your entrance with his thumb, rubbing tight circles around the hole. “You said you are a virgin, right?” He whispers, softer than before. “I will ask you only one thing: Do you want me to be your first?”

You obviously nod to his question. Come on, he's Johnny Depp, do you really need to think about it? You wouldn't let this opportunity escape through your fingers. He grins mischievously, his left hand caressing your waist. “Of course you want to, you're my whore.” He bites his lip, his other hand wrapping around his base. “Now you'll have to handle me.” He nudges the tip of his member against your wet folds. He won't put a condom on, he doesn't really care, neither do you. 

He slowly slides himself inside, sighing a sound between a relief and a groan. You could feel every inch of him, every vein, and every slight detail. “Take it all like a good little cocksleeve.” He tells you once he's fully settled inside. He starts rocking his hips slowly, getting used to the blissful way your inner walls grips his cock. He leans forward, his chest on your back, going deep. “Tell me how much you love the way my big, fat cock stretches out your tight little hole.” He whispers in your ear, his big hands holding your hips tightly. You try to speak, moans leaving your mouth like breathing. He won't give you a break, you asked for it and now you have to handle it.

“I told you to speak up! Tell me how much you love it. Or would you rather I just shut you up with my hand?” He smacks your thigh, making you yelp. With a whimper and a few sharp gasps, you manage to choke out an answer. “I-I love it! I fucking love it, Daddy. It's so good~” You almost scream when he starts pounding harder into your inexperienced cunt, his balls slapping against your rear. “That’s right, bitch, scream for me.” He approves, grunting in your ear. “This pussy is mine, got it?” His hands move up to your waist, still holding you tightly, leaving his mark on your skin.

You only nod to his question, barely acknowledging it, dick-drunk. Even though he loves seeing you turning into a mess just because of his cock, he wants more of you, he wants you to recognize yourself as his. “Say ‘my holes belong to Johnny Depp.’ ” He commands, one of his hands moving up to your breast, squeezing it. Your brain almost melts trying to follow his instructions, even if it is the simplest one. Between moans, you obey him “My holes b-belongs to you, Johnny”. He growls, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t ever forget it, whore” He nips your sensitive skin, leaving hickeys as his autograph.

You feel the orgasm coming, your legs going numb, soon to give up. You try to warn Johnny with your babbles and whimpers, managing to squeak a breathless “Please” between them. He catches your message, changing the angle to hit a needy spot on your inner walls. “Please what, my dirty little cumslut?” He provokes “Use your words, tell Daddy what you need.” He slows but deepens his pace, you didn’t know your insides were that long to fit him this well. “Cum..” You cry out. “Let me cum, sir, please. Please!” A few tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks, starting to feel overwhelmed.

Johnny smirks proudly, feeling on the top of the world. “Oh, you want to cum on my cock? You want to make a mess?” He groans, his fast pace returning. He doesn’t tease you further this time, being nicer to his slut. “Yes, let go and cum all over Daddy’s cock like the desperate little fuck toy you are.” He leans back, thrusting his hips harder while pulling your hips against his. He doesn’t need to do anything else, your body melting beneath his, your pussy spasming around his cock as you soak him.

Right after, you feel him pulsing inside of you, a delicious sensation. He’s ready to give you something more valuable than any Hollywood Vampires’ merch, an inestimable gift, his seed. He floods your insides, painting your inner walls white. Before you can recover your breath, Johnny grabs your phone and holds your throat, posing for a selfie. He focuses especially on your sweaty, dick-drunk expression, really proud of his job.

He smirks slightly, also tired, and snaps the picture. “Daddy loves seeing you fall apart on his cock.” He praises, kissing your neck. “I hope to see your face often during tours. You’re my number one whore.”

a/n: I want to write a professor!johnny x student!reader, is that okay?

taglist: @drugs-and-daddyissues (thank you for the support!)

-- If you want to be tagged, just dm me!

typing with my feet 'cause my fingers are busy 💦

Sorry for no chapters of illicit affairs this week, but take this edit instead

Being his sunlight through the trial

TW: mentions of abuse, rape, general Depp v Heard trial stuff

He didn't even think he'd find love through the whole shit show. Being called a wife beater, a rapist.. What person would want to go near him?

You. You did. You saw him at a bar, and while you'd been defending him online, you knew better than to talk about it to his face.

You made him feel like a human rather than a circus attraction, and he slowly lets you in.

You're such a stark contrast to his ex-wife.. Your touch is the most gentle thing he's ever experienced. You trace every scar she left, you kiss each one, so that it's filled with your love instead of her abuse.

You hold him when he has nightmares, gently soothe him back to sleep.

You help him get undressed when the day was just too heavy to bear. There's no sexual intent behind your actions, just love.

You cry for him, with him. And when the trial's over, you two celebrate with a nice home cooked dinner and a glass of wine.

You're beaming when he moves on, focusing the rest of his energy, love, and creativity into all forms of art.

And you smile everyday because he never fails to make you feel as special as you made him feel.

You lay your head on his shoulder while he plays guitar. He lets you sit on his lap while he paints the finishing details on his latest painting. When he's on set, whether as the actor or the director, you're bringing him lunch, and he makes you stay for the entire lunch break, feeding you, his free arm around your shoulders.

This is what love is supposed to be. Not abuse and manipulation. Not nights spent in a cold bed. It's you, brushing your fingertips across his skin and telling him that he deserves a fulfilling life.

𝐀/𝐍 I've seen a resurgence of Amb*r H**rd supporters, it feels very cult like, I'll be honest. But with that resurgence, I want to say something serious. If you are a victim- man, woman, anything in between or out of that binary, use your voice. It's terrifying, I know it is. But use your voice. If anyone needs to talk, my DMs are open. And for those on the opposition, on Heard's side, look within yourself.

Now, I always have to say this, but I don't think Johnny Depp is a saint, but he's definitely not an abuser, a misogynist, a rapist, whatever you want to call him.

THIS IS MUCH BETTER THAN I IMAGINED! MY GOD

to ate sem palavras vei que coisa ma-ra-vi-lho-sa!!!

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐂𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 You've been lying to Tom for months about who you really are, but even after the truth comes out, he still can't get you out of his system.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 angst, slight mentions of sexual content, guns

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 Tom Hanson x criminal!reader

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 idea came from my good friend @ghsttk please go support her account! She also writes for Johnny Depp. <3

It had been weeks since Tom heard from you; and yet, his heart still searched for you. He awoke in an empty bed, cold from the lack of your body tangled in the sheets next to him.

It had been so long since you left without a word, and while his friends had tried to do everything to get him to move on, to distract him, nothing worked. You bewitched him, filling his brain with thoughts of you. Things seemed to fall into place when you were around, now they seemed to be all out of wack. Nothing felt right.

Even so, he'd tried to push himself into work, helping with more traditional police duties. One night, he got a call from the captain. He rubbed his tired eyes, picking up the phone gingerly.

"Tom Hanson." He answered. He made that a habit very quickly, given his line of work.

"Got a bank robbery at 32nd and Elk Road. You're close to the area, so get your ass ready and report." His captain demanded, and he was already getting out of bed.

It took no time at all to get his uniform on, having all of his equipment. He raced to the scene, finding another faction of officers.

He could see the scene clearly, the masked robber, and he immediate took out his gun as precaution, although kept it lowered since they didn't seem to be armed.

"We have the place surrounded!" Tom yelled in that commanding voice he often took at work. "Come out with your hands where I can see them!"

The figure slowly walked out, hands up, as their eyes scanned the officers. "Take your mask off, now!" Tom ordered, and the person did so at his behest. Removing the mask, he came face to face with you; There was a smirk on your face, even as his whole world felt like it was being flipped again, heart breaking.

But still, get trudged forward, pulling your hands behind your back. As he put the handcuffs around your wrists, tightening as needed, he read you your rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you." Every word felt like a stab to the image of you that refused to leave his mind.

This was not the lover he knew. This was not the person who would make breakfast with him, who would kiss him like he was the only being alive. Was all of that a lie too? Or did you just change? Why? Questions flooded his brain, but he could not ask them now, so he just led you to the back of the cop car, pushing you in the backseat- his touch still gentle and tender even though it broke everything he was supposed to be at the moment, and closed the door. You'd be questioned by officials, then you'd be questioned by him. But his interrogation would be vastly different, he had personal motivation.

-

He'd somehow gotten so night of sleep and requested to talk to you, and he was allowed. No longer donning his police uniform, he now wore a simple casual outfit- the red flannel that you'd worn so many times, wrapped around his body. He didn't know whether to be angry, or hurt, seeing you there. This was not how he wanted to meet you again.

"So are you going to talk and explain, or are you just going to sit there like a scolded child." He said, letting his angry take the lead, for fear he would start crying instead. "Why would you do this (Y/N)?"

You just shrugged, eyeing him with that mischievous glint in your eye. It took him back to the nights he'd spent tangled in bedsheets with you, his name a breathless prayer on your lips as he brought you closer to heaven.

Those nights were no more than a memory now.

He watched as you came closer. "I've missed you though.. It was hard having to leave such a pretty boy behind." You whispered, like you had no choice in leaving.

"You had a choice to leave. You know I would've kept you safe and warm. I would've protected you, god, I would've done everything for you!" He barked back, a hint of a shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.

"There, there, you'll be okay." You said, gently tapping his cheek, before leaning in to kiss his lips.

He let himself get lost for the moment, before the buzzer came on, signaling for him that his time was up, that he needed to leave.

He pulled away, heading for the door, half opening it before he heard your soft voice, sweet like honey. "Wait for me. I'll come back for you." You said.

He didn't let himself respond, just walked out the door, letting it close behind him.

Damnit, you've bewitched him all over again, leaving him to deal with more hurt and the false promises of coming back to him. And he was a fool who'd believe in it.

┆𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓┆

𝐀/𝐍 Again, idea goes to @ghsttk. Seriously, go follow her, she has THE best Johnny Depp smut on this app.

🚨 taglist: @trekkitkat @amy-fontaine @littlerobbinphantomhive19 @kittenlittle24 @ghsttk Thank you for your support ❤

♡ add yourself to my taglist here

ai, para.. acho que a sopa de repolho tem seu charme, né? 😋

A ticket to your heart ★ Capítulo 1 ★

Um suspiro escapa de seus lábios quando finalmente avista a "boa" e velha casa caindo aos pedaços e, provavelmente, com algumas partes mofadas, mas ei, continua sendo uma casa, não?

Seus moradores são a família Bucket, que não eram uma família abastada, na verdade, eles mal tinham o que comer. O fato é que você e seu irmão eram as pessoas mais sortudas do mundo, apenas não sabiam disso.

— Boa noite, Buckets. — Você e Charlie falam em uníssono ao entrarem em casa.

— Boa noite. — Todos respondem como de costume, e, por 'todos', quero dizer, Vovó Georgiana, Vovó Josephine, Vovô Joe , Vovô George e a senhora Bucket, que estava fazendo uma sopa de repolho. Seu pai parecia não ter chegado ainda.

— Posso saber como foi o dia de vocês? — A senhora Bucket sorri e olha para vocês rapidamente antes de voltar sua antenção para a sopa.

— O mesmo de sempre. — Você diz se sentando à mesa. Não era uma total mentira, tirando aquele homen estranho, tudo havia ocorrido como todos os outros dias.

— Pois é. A única coisa diferente hoje foi a aula do professor Eujénio de álgebra. — Puxando uma cadeira na pequena mesa, Charlie senta ao seu lado e começa a tirar alguns livros de sua mochila — Foi mais chata que o normal. — Ele disse com um sorrisinho em seu rosto.

— Charlie, não diga isso! Tenho certeza que esse senhor Eujénio dá uma ótima aula. — A Sra Bucket repreende o olhando de relance enquanto o risinho de certas 4 pessoas pode ser ouvido.

— É Charlie, não diga isso. — Você cópia o tom de sua mãe, oferecendo um "toca aqui" e uma piscadela pra ele. Você se vira para a cozinha. — A senhora precisa de ajuda, mãe?

— Oh, não. Não se preocupe com isso querida. — Ela sorri para você como um gesto de gratidão. Nesse mesmo momento a velha porta se abre com um rangido, a figura de seu pai é iluminada pela luz da lareira.

— Boa noite, Buckets.

— Oi, pai! — você e Charlie o cumprimentam.

— Olá, querido. Trouxe alguma coisa para colocar na sopa? — O senhor Bucket olha para a panela cheia de água e repolho e suspira tristemente.

— Err, não. Infelizmente não.

— Ah... Tudo bem. Repolho sempre cai bem com repolho! — O senhor Bucket dá um sorriso, envergonhado por não conseguir dar um conforto suficiente para a sua família.

— Ah! Charlie, eu tenho uma coisa pra você. — Ele coloca a mão em seu bolso e retira duas tampas de tubo de pasta de dente grudadas. Um erro da fábrica de onde seu pai trabalha.

Charlie solta um audível suspiro de surpresa e alegria ao receber a notícia. Saltando para fora da cadeira, ele corre até seu pai para pegar a tampa.

Agradecendo brevemente, o garoto anda para um canto da sala e tira uma maquete feita com tampas de pasta de dente da famosa fábrica junta de um bonequinho no centro.

— O que é isso, Charlie? — Vovô Joe pergunta. Você se senta ao lado dele, fascinada pela criação de seu irmão.

— É uma maquete da fábrica! A única coisa que estava faltando era o chapéu do Willy Wonka. — Ele posiciona as duas tampas na cabeça do boneco de forma que elas se pareçam com uma cartola.

— Charlie, isso é incrível! — Você sorri, seu peito se enche de orgulho por seu irmão mais novo. O resto de seus familiares concordam totalmente com você. Um rubor aparece no rosto de seu por estar sendo o centro das atenções. Ele agradece suavemente com um sorriso envergonhado.

— Ficou igualzinho. — Disse vovô Joe.

— O senhor acha? — Charlie pergunta se virando para ele.

—Se eu acho? Eu sei que ficou!

— Vovô Joe viu o Willy Wonka com os próprios olhos, Charlie. — Você sorri ao lembrar Charlie sobre as histórias que seu avô tinha para contar.

— Isso é verdade. — Ele acena com a cabeça. — Eu já trabalhei para ele, sabiam?

— Foi? — Pergunta Charlie.

— Foi. — Afirma vovô Joe.

— Foi sim. — Concordou vovó Josephine.

— Foi.— Disse vovô George.

— Eu adoro uvas! — Exclama vovó Georgiana com um sorriso banguela. Você e seus pais concordam com a cabeça.

— É claro que naquela época eu era muito mais jovem. — Vovô Joe falou com um olhar distante.

— O Willy Wonka começou com uma única loja na rua Sherly, mas o mundo todo gostou do doces dele. — Ele olha para vocês novamente. — O homen era um gênio!

— Você sabia que ele inventou um jeito novo de fazer sorvete de chocolate que fica gelado por horas fora do congelador? Você pode até deixar no Sol num dia quente e ele não derrete!

Você não tem outra escolha a não ser sorrir. Seu avô, que nos últimos tempos tem todo uma aura tão melancólica, estava sorrindo como uma criança. Ele falava tão bem do chocolateiro que você não pode negar o desejo, mesmo que impossível, de conhecê-lo.

— Isso é impossível. — Contradiz Charlie. Por um momento você quase achou que seu irmão tivesse lido sua mente.

— Só que o Willy Wonka inventou. — Rebate vovô Joe.

— Pouco depois, ele decidiu abrir uma fábrica de chocolate. A maior da história! Cinquenta vezes maior que qualquer outra!

Vovó Josephine sorri ao ver seu marido tão feliz e seus netos tão interessados em suas histórias. Não querendo que esse momento acabe tão cedo, ela intervem. — Conte a eles sobre o príncipe indiano. Eles vão gostar de ouvir.

Sua mãe traz o jantar para seus avós na cama enquanto você olha com curiosidade para seu avô. Príncipe indiano? Você não havia ouvido essa ainda.

Seu avô, muito satisfeito com a pergunta de sua esposa, começa a contar a história. Parece que um príncipe enviou uma carta para o Sr. Wonka, pedindo que ele construísse um palácio colossal de chocolate. Ele avisou para o príncipe que não duraria por muito tempo e que ele deveria começar a come-lo, mas o príncipe não deu ouvidos. Enfim, um fatídico dia escaldante chegou e todo o castelo foi reduzido a uma enorme poça de chocolate. O príncipe enviou um telegrama pedindo um novo palácio, mas Wonka não respondeu.

Você segura uma risada. — Também não responderia se fosse ele. Seria uma grande perda de tempo, já que o palácio provavelmente derreteria de novo.

Vovô Joe dá um pequeno sorriso e acena a cabeça. — Mas Willy Wonka tinha seus próprios problemas. Todos os outros fabricantes de chocolate tinham inveja do Sr. Wonka. Começaram a mandar espiões para roubar a receita secreta.

— A roubalheira era tanta que um dia, sem avisar, o sr. Wonka mandou todos os seus funcionários embora e anúnciou que iria fechar a fábrica de chocolate para sempre.

— Mas não fechou pra sempre. Tá aberta agora. — Charlie fala após engolir uma colherada de sopa.

— Ah, é que as vezes quando os adultos dizem "para sempre" querem dizer "por muito tempo". — Sua mãe explica.

— Exemplo: parece que eu vou tomar sopa de repolho para sempre! — Interfere vovô George.

— Papai... — O Sr. Bucket o repreende.

— A fábrica chegou a fechar, Charlie. — Explica vovó Josephine.

— E parecia que ela iria ficar fechada para sempre. Então, um belo dia vimos fumaça saindo das chaminés. A fábrica voltou a funcionar! — Vovô Joe fala num tom alegre.

— E você voltou pra lá? — Perguntou Charlie. De repente ficou difícil de engolir a sopa. O ambiente ficou tenso, ninguém ousava falar alguma coisa. Todos sabiam a resposta para essa pergunta. Todos menos Charlie.

— Nem eu, nem ninguém. — Vovô Joe sussurrou voltando seu olhar para a tigela de sopa.

— ... Mas deve ter gente trabalhando lá. — Charlie quebra o gelo.

— Acho que já teríamos visto alguém saindo ou entrando na fábrica, caso estivessem. — Você fala num tom gentil, não querendo alimentar ainda mais a melancolia dali e nem ser grossa com seu irmão.

— Mas então quem opera as máquinas? — Indagou Charlie.

— Ninguém sabe, Charlie. É um mistério. — Você responde.

— Alguém já perguntou o senhor Wonka? — Charlie pergunta.

— Nunca mais foi visto por mais ninguém. Ele sumiu. — Responde vovô Joe — A única coisa que sai daquele lugar são as barras de chocolate. Embaladas e empacotadas. — ele suspirou. — Eu daria tudo na vida para que vocês pudessem entrar e ver aquela fábrica. Para vocês presenciarem a mesma magia que eu presenciei. Talvez eu conseguisse um emprego para você lá, minha querida. Daí você não precisaria trabalhar tanto naquela loja. Tenho certeza que seria muito divertido. O Sr Wonka podia até ser um homen muito introspectivo, mas tenho certeza que ele gostaria de você. — Vovô Joe vira para você com um grande sorriso no rosto.

Com o coração transbordando de amor, você se levanta e dá um beijo na testa de seu avô. — Obrigada vovô. Isso seria muito gentil da sua parte.

Vovô Joe ri baixinho. — Ora, eu apenas quero o melhor pros meus netos. É pedir demais? — todos da família sorriem ao ouvirem isso. A casa volta a sua aura feliz.

Sua mãe se levanta. — Bem crianças, acho que já está na hora de deixar seus avós descansarem. — Você e Charlie acenam com a cabeça, pegando seus pratos e levando-os á pia. Dão boa noite para o resto da família e sobem para o sotão, carinhosamente apelidado de seu quarto.

Nele há apenas uma cama velha, grande o suficiente para caber você e Charlie, e uma cômoda caindo aos pedaços que guarda suas poucas roupas e pertences.

Você e Charlie se deitam na cama, ouvindo alguns estalos no processo. Charlie chama o seu nome.

— Hum... — Você murmura, sinalizando que está escutando.

— Você acha que um dia a gente vai poder ir para a fábrica?

Você respira profundamente, pensando na melhor maneira de responder sua pergunta.

— Eu não sei, Charlie. Mas é bem improvável.

Você não queria baixar o astral de seu irmão, mas também não queria levantar falsas esperanças.

— Mas improvável não é impossível, não é? — Charlie sorri.

Você não responde, apenas desarrumando o cabelo dele com sua mão, o que causou uma risada de vocês dois. Depois disso ambos vão dormir.

Não é como se Charlie estivesse errado afinal das contas. O futuro é cheio de surpresas e você não sabia o que ele tinha guardado para você.

Do mesmo jeito que você estava completamente ignorante à presença de certas pessoinhas dirigindo lambretas vermelhas contendo notícias que chocariam o mundo e virar sua vida de cabeça pra baixo.

★

Olá pessoas! Me desculpem mesmo pelo tempo q levou pra postar o primeiro capítulo dessa fanfic.

Mas não se preocupem! Eu não a abandonei e nem pretendo fazer isso!!

O intuito desse capítulo é mais pra aprofundar a sua relação com os Buckets, então sem Willy por enquanto. Mas só por enquanto! Já que ele já vai tomar uma vitamina D nos próximos capítulos.

Infelizmente não posso garantir que o próximo capítulo vai sair rápido, então, para compensar isso, pensei em começar a fazer oneshots curtos sobre os personagens do Johnny Depp e outros personagens.

Muito obrigado @ghsttk por ter me dado o pontapé final pra eu postar isso ♥

just to update you guys: yes, I am writing.

Private lessons. (889/~1100)

Under the table. [or something like that] (10/~1000)

Feast. (1600/~2000)