Johnny Depp Imagines {COMPLETED}

JD Characters #1

Imagine you're a therapist and you have individual sessions with the JD Characters.

(A/N: The picture above shows who's in this imagine.)

You're a new therapist that's just getting started with your career. You haven't had any clients since you've started. Until you were scheduled with fourteen men that are all roommates in a local town mansion. They scheduled the therapy session with you because they felt that they needed guidance from someone who understands how different they are from everyone else.

You were excited that you finally had clients. But at the same time, you were nervous about it, especially with fourteen clients in individual sessions. 'Hopefully this goes well with these gentlemen.' You thought to yourself, as you straightened your outfit, sat on your chair, with your notebook, and waited for your first client.

"So, Sam, you're a fan of Buster Keaton?" You asked your first client, Sam, who you find a bit eccentric when you first met him. "Oh, yes, (y/n). I do a lot of routines in front of people after watching his routines." Sam explained. "Interesting." You said, while nodding. "But I got kicked out of school because of my routines." Sam added. "Really?" You asked, while raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, and I still don't know how to write." Sam said. "And how old are you, Sam?" "Twenty six." Sam answered. You looked down at your notebook and wrote down some notes and said, "I see."

"And why are you sniffing my hair, Mr...Wolf?" You asked, as you looked up at your next client, who goes by 'The Wolf'. He was standing above you, on your side, taking a sniff of your (h/l) (h/c) hair, which was strange to you. "Because I have never smelled anything...so sweet from a little girl like you." He answered. "After living in the woods for so long?" You asked. "Yes, little girl." The Wolf said, before taking another sniff of your hair. "I see." You said, somewhat uncomfortable, as you wrote some notes down in your notebook.

"So, you make hats for a living, Mr...Hatter?" You asked your next client, who goes by 'Mad Hatter'. "Oh, yes, I do, Miss (y/n). I make hats for a living, like the one that I made on my head." Hatter said, while pointing to his handmade top hat and giggled a bit. "Interesting hat you got there, Hatter." You said. "Thank you, Miss (y/n)." Hatter said. Then, he leaned forward a bit and he looked straight at you. "Miss (y/n), do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?" He asked, curiously. "I...I'm not very good with riddles, so, no. I don't know. Do you?" You said. Then, Hatter giggled and said, "I don't have the slightest idea." "I see." You said, as you wrote some notes down in your notebook.

"So, you're a detective, yet you get so scared easily. Why's that, Mr. Crane?" You asked your next client, Ichabod Crane. "Because I-I saw the H-Headless Horseman." He answered, looking a bit terrified. "A Headless Horseman?" You questioned, while raising an eyebrow. "Yes. I saw it with my own eyes. But it's not the only thing that scares me. It's..." Ichabod was about to finish until he looked down at the floor and yelled, "A bug!" Then, all of a sudden, he got up from his seat and jumped up on top of it, looking frightened. "Get it away from me!" He whimpered. You looked down and saw a tiny beetle, walking on the rug before you looked back at your notebook. "I see." You said, while writing down some notes and shaking your head, slowly.

"And why can't you sleep at night, Mr. Lantz?" You asked your next client, a high school teenager, named Glen Lantz. "Because I don't want Freddy Krueger to kill me while I'm sleeping." Glen explained. "Freddy Krueger?" You questioned. "He's this man that can kill you in your sleep. Like literally." "I see." You said, somewhat skeptical, while writing in your notebook.

"So, what makes you so unique, Mr. Walker?" You asked your next client, a high school teenage greaser, Wade Walker. "Please, doll. Call me 'Cry-Baby'." He said, with an attractive voice. "Um, okay, Cry-Baby. Uh, why the name 'Cry-Baby'?" You asked, curiously. "Because, Miss (y/n), no girl can't resist these teardrops that run down my cheeks. It makes me look hot." Cry-Baby said, with the attractive voice and a teardrop, slowly, running down his cheek. When you saw the teardrop, your heart began to flutter. You had to admit, it did make him look attractive. "I...see." You said, while being distracted by the teardrop, which caused you to forget to take notes.

"So, why do you have scissors for hands, Edward?" You asked your next client, Edward Scissorhands, who's a very special human being. "I'm not finished." Edward answered, while holding up his hand that were made out of scissors, which made you jump, slightly. "I see." You said, while you looked down and wrote some notes down in your notebook, while feeling a bit scared because of the scissors.

"So, you wear the mask because why, Mr. DeMarco?" You asked your next client, who goes by 'Don Juan DeMarco'. "To hide my shame from the past. I've attracted many beautiful women and none of them must not see this face of shame without my mask." DeMarco explained, while standing up, looking down at you. "Really? So, that's your way of attracting women?" You asked. He looked down at you, while smirking, and, then, he leaned down towards you. "Yes, Miss (y/n). As you can see, no woman cannot resist this face of Don Juan. I have natural beauty that all women love. As I can see from your eyes, you are being drawn to my good looks." He said, in a seductive voice, with his face close to yours. You were so enchanted by his good looks, you forgot to take notes in your notebook. "I...see..." You said, while blushing.

"And why did you start robbing banks, Mr. Dillinger?" You asked your next client, John Dillinger, a well-known gangster. "I've had a rough life, doll. Especially through my childhood." John explained, with a serious look on his face. "I see." You said, as you wrote down some notes in your notebook.

"Why are you concentrated on my lava lamp, Mr. Collins?" You asked, while looking behind, to see your next client, Barnabas Collins, who was standing by your desk, observing very closely at your red lava lamp on your desk. "This so-called 'lava lamp' is graciously satisfying. It's like a pulsating blood urn. It makes me so...thirsty." Barnabas said, while he kept his eyes focused on the lava lamp. "Blood makes you thirsty, huh? Like you're a vampire or something?" You asked, somewhat skeptically. "Exactly, my dear (y/n)." Barnabas answered, while looking at you. "I see." You said, while you wrote down some notes in your notebook. 'He's really strange.' You thought to yourself.

"Mm. This chocolate is really delicious, Mr. Wonka." You complimented, as you were eating a piece of chocolate your next client, Willy Wonka, a chocolatier, had given you. "Why, thank you, (y/n). I'm glad you like it." Willy said, while smiling, cheerfully. "And this is what you do for a living? Making chocolate and candy?" You asked, curiously. "Yes, I do, sweetheart." Willy said, and, then, he giggled a bit. "I see." You said, sounding impressed, without taking notes again.

"And why are you more focused on finishing the ending of your novel, Mr. Rainey, after your ex-wife mysteriously disappeared?" You asked your next client, Mort Rainey, a well-known writer, who has psychotic vibes radiating off of him. "Because the ending is what matters the most, (y/n), and, so far, what I'm currently writing right now, the ending is good. It's very good." Mort answered, looking a bit psychotic in his eyes. "I...uh, see." You said, feeling a little uncomfortable, while you wrote some notes down.

"So, why do you carry that razor with you, Mr. Todd?" You asked your next client, Sweeney Todd, who's a barber and was holding his razor in his hand. "This is my friend, Miss (y/n). It goes everywhere with me. It's made for special shaving for my wonderful customers." Sweeney said, with a creepy vibe in his voice, while holding up his razor. "I...see." You said, feeling, slightly, uncomfortable, while taking notes.

"And can you explain to me why you're upset, Mr. Sparrow?" You asked your last client, Jack Sparrow, a drunk pirate, who looked disappointed. "Because the rum is always gone." Jack answered, slurring a bit. You, as usual, looked down at your notebook, for the last time, and took notes as you said, "I see."

After you were done with Jack, you sat at your desk, took out your hand held micro cassette voice recorder, pressed the record button, and said,

"(Today's Date), first therapy session. Fourteen clients today. Situation: all fourteen clients are roommates, struggling to fit in with the public due to their differences from other people. So far, all gentlemen are different, yet for some reason, they all look oddly similar. But I highly doubt they're all related. I've had an individual session with each of them to talk about their differences. Most of them were strange, but interesting to understand why they're different. Although, a few of them made me feel really uncomfortable, one of them I actually seemed really adorable and attractive. Note to self, I can't date my clients. Anyway, at the end of each individual session, I have advised them to express themselves to the public so they don't feel neglected about their differences. After all, we are different. Hopefully, this first session has helped these gentlemen and hopefully I'll get more clients soon. Now, it's dinner time and I, (y/n) (y/l/n), am out."

Then, you stopped your recorder and you put it in your desk. After that, you grabbed your coat and briefcase and you left your office for the day.