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plasticdean · 4 years ago

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stone cold - chapter 4

recruitment

mob!dean-charles chapman au warnings: language, mentions of drug use word count: 2.3k series masterlist

Justin has been added to the character list so check that out before you read this chapter!

I didn’t really have many friends growing up. Not a lot of parents were crazy about their kids hanging out with Leo Stone’s son. You really couldn’t blame them for that, my dad is a fucking psycho.

Justin Martinez was my childhood best friend. My mom and his mom were best friends when they were teenagers and as soon as they had kids of their own, they wanted us to have the same friendship they did. However, when we were both six, Justin’s mom died of breast cancer which hit my mom hard, she wasn’t herself for a long time.

After her death, Justin had to move in with his dad who lived in Brooklyn which was around an hour away. Mom would usually drive me there and drop me off to stay the night but after her death, I’d have whatever nanny I had for the time being do it.

Justin’s dad was an asshole; not as much as my dad was but he was definitely up there. He was a drunk junkie and an abusive asshole that spent his days mooching money off of Justin’s mom’s side of the family and saying it was to “help take care of him” and sticking needles in different parts of his body. None of his time was spent taking actual good care of his son and none of the money he’d get was used for Justin.

As I grew up, I grew protective of him. I wasn’t afraid to call his dad a piece of shit to his face, or even throwing in a punch, knocking him out cold. It didn’t really take much to knock out someone that’s drunk or high, or both. One good hit will have them hit the ground so fast and passed out for a couple of hours.

I don’t know if it was because I couldn’t defend myself like that with my own dad and being able to help someone that went through the shit I did kind of comforted me in some kind of way. Or, maybe it was just because, in the words of my father, “I’m a fucking psycho”.

Whatever it was, I didn’t care, just as long as he was okay.

Justin’s dad ended up going to prison for 15 years for second-degree robbery when we were both 15. After this, he ended up moving away to Massachusetts to live with his aunt and uncle who were loaded with money.

Having to say goodbye to my best friend and my only friend really fucking sucked but I was happy for him, he deserved to have a chance at having a good life and be surrounded by family that loved him and cared for him.

After moving, he never tried to get in touch with me. He’d either send me short messages or just ignore me. He never tried to call, never answered my calls, and never made plans with me to visit or for me to visit him. I could understand though, once you move away from your toxic life and start a new one that’s actually not shitty, you never wanna go back.

It sucked to not feel needed anymore but it fucking sucked even more to lose what you needed.

_______________

My hands felt clammy, the collar of my dress shirt felt like it was choking me, and my leg couldn’t stop bouncing.

“Can you roll the window down?” I ask my driver from the backseat.

He rolls it down as one of my guards that’s sitting next to me looks at me with concern, “You okay boss?”

Boss. This dude was like 20 years older than me. Hell would have to freeze over before I’d call anyone younger than me “boss”.

I nod and stick my head out of the window just a little bit, “Yeah, I’m just hot.”

I was on my way to the “meeting” my father wanted me to have with one of his workers at the warehouse that our shipments of “goods” went out of. Since this was about missing money, I’m guessing this meeting is gonna be exactly like the one on the yacht. At least this time I wouldn’t have my dad and grandpa breathing down my neck and judging me for every fucking move I make.

I can’t lie and say that I’m not nervous, of course, I am, I’m human. There’s nothing wrong with it as long as I didn’t show that, when you start showing signs in any way that you’re not confident, people will automatically get the upper hand on you.

I ran through the plan on what I was going to do when I found the guy. Maybe act all buddy buddy to him and then just go all serious and scare the shit out of him until he gives me an answer? Or maybe just start it by beating the shit out of him and ask questions after?

I was taken away from my thoughts as the large warehouse came into view. I let out a deep breath before getting out of the car as it stopped right in front of the building, my men followed me into the entrance doors.

I approached the first worker I saw, “Is there a Justin that works here?”

He makes eye contact with me, his eyes slightly widen as he realizes who I am, “Uh yes sir, do you want me to get him or show you where he is?”

“Bring him to me, one of my men will go with you to get him then bring him to me. I’ll be out on the docks down at the water,” I say before turning around and walking out, down the hill to the water.

My two other men stood by my side as I waited for the guy to be brought out. I put my hand on my holster to prepare for any case where the guy comes out with guns blazing.

My heart was beginning to pound harder than it was in the car. I really should’ve smoked a cigarette first before I decided to just eagerly barge into the warehouse. I was just really ready to get this over with.

As I was internally fighting with myself on if I should just say fuck it and pull out a cigarette, two figures came down the hill. I recognized my guard as one of them and the other one was a bit smaller.

I fixed my posture and clenched my jaw as I gripped the handle of the gun that was still in the holster that was attached to my hip. I had a hard grip on it for maybe 15 seconds before I froze in place.

My heart began pounding faster than before, I could feel myself getting hot as I slowly began to recognize the figure that was next to my guard.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The look of confidence I attempted was completely wiped away. My guard stood off to the side as I stared at the approaching figure with wide eyes and my mouth slightly open.

“Hey, Dean.”

Justin fucking Martinez.

There he was, right in front of me, seven years older. He looks so different but somehow still the same. He was the same height as me and had the same face full of freckles but had facial hair and he seemed to carry himself in a way I can’t explain.

7 years is a lot of time and while everyone changes in that amount of time, he was different. He wasn’t that same vulnerable, scared, angry kid he was when we were friends.

He looked like he has been through shit but still carried himself with confidence and looked fearless.

He was attractive.

“You work here?” I ask, finally being able to find the words to speak.

He smirked, “You mean I work for you? Yeah, I do.”

As I go to speak he cuts me off, “No, your dad doesn’t know that I work here. He really wasn’t involved with the hiring process here. He has people for that. Or should I say had since they’re your people now.”

I was confused by his monotone voice yet playful look he had on his face. I don’t know if it’s the shock of seeing him again or the fact that I was about to have a “meeting” with my childhood best friend that made me feel so tense and uncomfortable but I knew he could tell I was. He automatically had the upper hand.

I sigh and look away from him for the first time since I saw him, “Listen, Justin, I’m just gonna ask you straight up.”

I look back at him, staring straight into his dark brown eyes, “Did you take money from us?”

He frowns and puts his hands in his pocket, he’d do that when he was nervous, maybe I had the upper hand now.

He shook his head and shrugged, “Why would I steal from you?”

“You didn’t steal from me, you stole from my dad.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because-”

“Because your dad told you to? So you’re still listening to that asshole, even when you’re the one who’s supposed to be in charge?”

I had to stop and take a second to think about what he said. He wasn’t wrong, my father was making me clean up his messes or do his dirty work for him when it’s me that owns all of this.

“Guys, can you give us some time to talk alone? I’ll be fine,” I said to all my guards. They gave me an unsure look before nodding and walking back up the hill where they can still see me but can give me the privacy I needed.

“Just tell me, did you steal money? I’m not gonna kill you over it or anything like that. I just wanna know,” I asked lowly.

Justin sighed and looked out at the water, shaking his head, “I needed the money.”

I close my eyes and sigh. Why Justin, why?

“Before you freak the fuck out, just listen to me, please?” He begs.

I nod before sitting down on the edge of the dock, swinging my legs slightly as I look down at the dark waters below me.

Justin sits down next to me and sighs, “I won’t lie, life was pretty fucking great when I first moved to Massachusetts.”

Ow.

“I mean, not having you there felt really fucking weird and it sucked. I do still feel like an asshole for completely ghosting you cause shit, you were all I had after my mom died. But I was 15, I found a new group of friends, who were complete douchebags. Like seriously, the old me and you would’ve beat the shit out of them,” Justin and I chuckle at the same time, remembering how brutal we were to the arrogant assholes we went to school with.

“Anyways, after I graduated, things just went downhill. My uncle was a fucking prick and kicked me out because “his father kicked him out when he was 18 and it taught him so many things in life so he wanted the same for me” and all that shit but they fucking knew I had nothing planned out which, I will admit, it’s my fault but holy fuck they didn’t even give me time to try and get my shit together. They just threw me out and wouldn’t let me back in. So, because I was basically homeless, I got into the wrong crowd and just got into drugs and alcohol, just like my piece of shit sperm donor. But, one night I just got completely fucked and I ended up having to go to the hospital to get my stomach pumped which, of course, put me in rehab. Dean, the fucking place I went to was so fucking weird and shit but it helped me find a sponsor who basically acts as my babysitter just in case I almost relapse. And because of him, I got this job a little over a year ago.”

A YEAR ago?

“Wait, you’ve been working here for over a year and never thought to just try and get ahold of me?” I ask offended.

Justin chuckled, “Honestly, I thought you would’ve been out of here when you turned 18.”

Fuck, I wish.

“I should’ve but I just can’t go without figuring out what happened to my mom,” I say with a sigh.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. But I swear Dean, I only took money to pay rent, I was so fucking behind that they were about to evict me and-”

“Justin it’s fine, I don’t give a shit about what you took from my dad,” I say with a smirk.

He lets out a sigh of relief and jokingly wipes his forehead, “Thank god. I’m not gonna lie Dean, you have gotten intimidating as fuck,” he exclaims.

I laugh and shake my head, “I have been learning from my wonderful father and grandpa.”

Justin rolls his eyes, “Fuck them. You are so much better and smarter than them. I hope you take this bullshit business from them and drive it straight into the fucking ground.”

As soon as he said that my plan instantly came into my thoughts. Justin is the only person on this earth that I have always trusted and that I know will always have my back. He could help me with it and greatly benefit from it.

I turn my head to face him, grinning slightly.

Justin faces me and smirks, “Uh oh, I know that look. What are you planning?”

I stand up and adjust my jacket as I look down at him, his dark eyes already focused on me, “I’m gonna take the business, but, I’m gonna drive them straight into the fucking ground…and I want you to help me.”

#dean charles chapman #dean-charles chapman #mob!dean #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman au

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strangethings-everywhere · 2 years ago

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Beautiful Ruins // Royal!Dean x Knight!George AU // Ch.3

Masterlist Ch.1 // Ch.2

Wordcount: 1414 Warnings: cursing, dean tries to fight everyone Author’s note: hello lads i’ve returned from war

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Dean and George continued to spar for what felt like hours, the adrenaline coursing through their veins like a drug. Dean couldn’t remember feeling that happy in years. Being the crown prince, the only friends he could remember having were the knights who were assigned to him and the young dignitaries who visited.

He was so lonely, but he loved the feeling of having a friend. Was this what being normal felt like?

“George?” Dean glanced over at the other boy. The two of them had just finished another match and were lying next to each other on the grass.

“Yes?”

“Are you my friend?”

George scoffed, turning to look at Dean. “Of course I am. What kind of foolish question is that?”

Dean felt his face heat up. “I just… I’ve never had a friend before.” He absentmindedly ran his fingers through the grass. “It’s just new, that’s all.”

George was quiet, his blue eyes studying Dean with new curiosity. Dean refused to meet the other boy’s eyes, his face flushed.

“Dean, are you a knight?”

“What?”

“Are you,” George sat up cross-legged, twirling strands of grass in his fingers, “a knight?”

Dean closed his eyes with a sigh. He didn’t want to tell George who he was, but he knew that there were holes in his story. He also knew that if George was truly on his way to being a knight, he would eventually find out about all of Dean’s lies. On the other hand, he knew that their relationship, as new as it was, would completely change if George found out he was royalty. He still had no idea how George didn’t already know, but he’d do anything to keep this comfortable dynamic they had.

“I mean, what else would I be doing here?” Dean answered weakly. It was truly the worst excuse he could offer and he wished he could sink into the ground. You absolute moron.

“You just don’t fight, y’know, like a knight.” George began picking at a cut on his forearm. “At least not like anyone I’ve ever trained with. You’ve got fancier footwork.” He smirked. “And your clothes are nicer.”

“They’re just clean,” Dean mumbled. He was sure his face was blazing red.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re hiding something and I wanna know what.” George rolled onto his back again. “Especially if you can get me some lessons with whoever taught you how to fight.”

Dean groaned. “George, I have to tell you something.”

“I was right!”

“Shut up.” Dean sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m-”

“YOUR HIGHNESS!” The loud voice of Lord Christopher echoed across the courtyard, bringing Dean to his feet. The sallow paleness of his father’s advisor was just visible in the archways leading into the castle. He looked upset, as usual.

“Your Highness…” George finally made the connection as he looked back and forth between Dean and Lord Christopher, his eyes wide. “Don’t tell me… you’re not-”

“We’ll talk about this later. I’m being summoned.” Dean pulled George to his feet. “Thank you for today and for last night. Don’t hate me.”

Before George could answer him, Dean grabbed his sword and walked away. He felt his hands begin to shake, the grip around his sword tightening. As he approached Lord Christopher, the gnawing anger returned to him.

“You better have a good fucking reason for this.” He hissed.

“Of course my prince. Your father has requested your presence.” Lord Christopher looked down at him with an amused curl of his lips. “I do hope that I haven’t interrupted anything.”

“Fuck off.” Dean snarled. He shoved past the man and practically ran towards his father’s quarters.

His father had a private war room where he spent most of his time, accompanied only by Lord Christopher and the servants who aided and fed him. Dean tried to avoid his father at all costs, but he knew that the war room was the only place his father would see him.

Dean reached the thick oak double doors in a matter of minutes. He shoved past the guards and practically stumbled into the room, panting hard. “Father!”

His father, the King, turned slowly to face him, his expression one of immense disappointment at the sight of his eldest son and heir. The only feature shared between father and son was their body type: King Henry was tall and strong, built to be a warrior. Dean was built like his father, like a knight, but still hadn’t reached his height. He looked too much like his mother, with his lighter hair and cerulean eyes. His father was dark grey hair and haunted hazel eyes. His father was war and always had been. His mother, the late Queen Ophelia, had been sunshine personified and an angel to all.

Henry hadn’t deserved her. Dean hated him.

“Hello, son. I thought you’d never show.” Henry held out his arms to Dean as if he wanted to embrace him. Dean didn’t move, his arms crossed. “Drink with me?” Henry moved towards a pitcher of wine.

“I’m alright thanks.”

“Oh, I’ve heard. How’s the hangover?” His father handed him a goblet anyway, his grin malicious. “Don’t look so surprised, of course I know about your nightly escapades. How else do you think you’re getting out of the castle so easily?”

Dean’s heart dropped to his shoes. He thought he’d had this one solitary thing, this one secret from his father. What he thought was his sliver of freedom had never really been his. It made sense; his life had never really been his. Everything he had belonged to his father.

“I-I…”

“Speak up boy!” Henry bellowed, slamming his goblet on the table with a bang. Dean flinched, his hands shaking.

“I didn’t think you knew.” It took all of Dean’s concentration to keep his voice steady. His comment only made his father laugh.

“Of course I did! Do you think I’d let my son,” another bang of the goblet, “my heir, wander the streets unsupervised?” Dean could smell the alcohol on Henry’s breath. “Especially this close to your birthday. Especially this close to your first command.”

Dean almost laughed. His father didn’t care about his birthday. He only cared that Dean was about to go to war, this time in a position of power.

“How did you know I got drunk?” Dean asked.

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, but I had a special pair of eyes on you last night.” Henry wiggled his eyebrows. “A companion of sorts.”

“Did you pay a prostitute to spy on me?!” Dean snapped. Henry broke into a deep belly laugh, wine spilling onto the floor.

“No, no.” He wiped tears from his eyes, a few drunk giggles escaping as he grinned at Dean. “Even better.”

The guards knocked at the door and Henry called for them to enter. Dean slowly turned, his blood roaring in his ears.

George stood in the doorway, dressed in the dark coat and trousers of His Majesty’s Private Guard. His blond hair, which had been messy not thirty minutes beforehand, was clean and styled out of his face. He was wearing shiny black boots and his black gloves bore the royal coat of arms.

He was a fucking knight. Not only that, he was part of the King’s inner circle of knights, his most elite.

Dean’s world seemed to blur. He could hear his father laughing in the background but it sounded like he was underwater. George’s mouth was moving, but Dean could barely hear him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could stop himself, Dean knocked George off his feet with a swipe of his leg. He heard someone draw their sword and he didn’t realize it was him until he saw the tip of his blade at George’s throat.

“Dean…” George’s voice was calm, soft. It made Dean so fucking angry.

“You lied to me.” Dean’s hands were shaking, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. That gnawing feeling was eating his insides, taunting him. He wanted to spill blood, he wanted to kill someone.

“Dean.” His father’s voice made him spin around, sword raised. His father hit the flat of the blade with a powerful blow of his fist and the sword fell out of Dean’s grip. “George is your protection. I’ve assigned him to you.”

“What?” His brain was so jumbled that he could barely comprehend what his father was saying.

“He’s following you to war.”

#george mackay #dean charles chapman #george mackay imagines #dean charles chapman imagines #george mackay x dean charles chapman #royal au #royal!dean #knight!george

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thylalock · 5 years ago

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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by: Mary Elizabeth Frye

[x] [x]

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jennyallalong · 4 years ago

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Blakefield Quarantine AU

During the pandemic Schofield and Blake are not able to see each other in person. The solution of this problem is pretty easy: Video Chat.

#blakefield #blake x schofield #will schofield #tom blake #1917 #1917 movie #george mackay #dean-charles chapman #blakefield au

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the-fatal-impact · 4 years ago

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So, I read If Gold Rust, What Shall Iron Do?, something like month ago and this what it caused - Blakefield Medieval AU, Blake is prince, Schofield is his knight, if you read the fic you know the premise. Optional references to Van Goghs Almond Blossom.

#1917 #1917 movie #1917source #blakefield #Thomas Blake #william schofield #dean charles chapman #george mackay #medieval #medieval au #finally finished #uff #myart

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datsauceh · 5 years ago

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So I watched 1917 like… 2 weeks ago and my brain was like in a mist for 5 days and then I remembered that ok maybe I did watch a real good movie AND that I fell in love with the numbness tragedy of all the characters.

My brain has worked then, has seen all the pretty AUs so yeah, here is Scho & Blake in a 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘.

(i’m kinda a sucker for long takes movies too so I was blessed )

#1917 #thomas blake #william schofield #1917 art #my art #1917 movie #unironically nuclear boys at some points #blakefield #i guess ??#george mackay #dean charles chapman #au #fanart

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derbesteseemann · 5 years ago

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so for once in my life let me get what i want, lord knows, it would be the first time

okay so these are based on @thenightwindow‘s a kinder world but frankly, i’m not sure if i’ve managed to capture the characters. the fanfic is still brilliant, though

#1917 #1917 movie #1917 au #tw: blood (mild)#blakefield #wom #wom blofield #thomas blake #william schofield #dean charles chapman #george mackay #fun fact: i'd chosen the song before i read the new chapter and at first thought it was too angsty #turns out it wasn't

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ditch-witches · 4 years ago

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Farmer’s Son - Dean Charles-Chapman x reader

(PART ONE) - (PART TWO)

Ivanna, I love you. Thank you for always hyping up our stuff and BLESSING us with your amazing artistic talents.

request: (jfc yall)

"I would do literally anything for more farm dean (can we eventually get a cute wedding? Take it slow tho dw)”

“I would kill for farmer's daughter part 3.”

“Okay wow I love Majesty it’s amazing but can you please give us some more farm Dean!! Love y’all!”

“Aight so can we pleaseee get another part for farmer’s daughter cause I never knew I needed farmer Dean in my life prior to that”

“I NEED FARM DEAN TO BE A COMPLETE SERIES WITH MANY HOT SUMMERS AND A WEDDING EVENTUALLY”

“Please give us farm/country Dean part 3 IT MAKES ME SO SOFT🥺🥰 They need to get married at some point sksksk”

“I’m the one who requested farm boy Dean and whew boy you guys did not disappoint! IT WAS SO GOOD."

warnings: ?language?

word count: ~4000

You furrowed your brows as you looked over the field of workers, tilling the dark earth beneath the hot summer sun. The living room radio was cranked up loud enough that the lulling tones of the singer could be heard from your front porch, mixing in with the calming noise of the wind-chime and cicadas in the trees. The scent of summer wafted through your hair with the same wind swirling through the chime, playing it as if it were a musician. The warmth of the sun settled against your exposed skin as you marched out to the field, throwing your hat over your wild hair. The cooler you were lugging behind you was nearly reminiscent of when your mother forced you to apologize to the men for your manners when now, it seemed that you could be wearing a winter coat and she’d nearly faint in embarrassment. Still, you were greeted with bright smiles and the welcoming of the refreshments.

You tucked your hands into your back pockets, searching the small crowd of college boys almost too dirty to be recognized. The offset chorus of sentiments and thankfulness blended into the wind in your ears. “He’s not here today,” one of the boys you knew from high school piped up beside you, leaning against his trow and following your eyes towards the horizon over the field. You moved your head to look in his direction, perking an eyebrow as you did so. He ran one of his grimy hands through his sandy hair, taking a deep breath of the summer air you were also admiring a few minutes prior.

You chuckled lightly. “Well, don’t write a novel, sparky,” you joked, making him snicker, a small gleam in his eyes as he looked at you fully this time.

“Apologies, ma’am. Dean took up another shift at the station. He needs the money before he heads back soon,” he disclosed, his hand moving to rub at the nape of his neck. You felt your heart drop three stories into hell at his words.

You wet your lips, searching his eyes. “Soon?”

He nodded. “Didn’t he tell you? His mom sent him a letter or something.” You shook your head, thanking him for the information and handing him one of the drinks from the cooler, your mind racing at what soon meant. How soon? Next week? In a few days? Tomorrow? What happened to summer? You parted ways with the men, tying your hair back and deciding that waiting for him to get off work would eat you alive before you got the opportunity to figure out what was happening.

It seemed as if your bike wasn’t quick enough to keep up with your legs and pacing heart. The vast cornfields and wildflowers you regularly would have stopped to enjoy, zipped passed your ankles alongside the gravel road into town. Your chest tightened at the thought of him leaving so soon after you had so much planned for these few precious months you had the opportunity to spend with him.

The reality of the situation was that you both were getting older. Soon, at least by your mother’s standards, you’d need to be settled and on the road to having children before your life completely passed by your ears. There were only so many summer vacations you could enjoy before you were tied into a job or a family. It was only a matter of time before you’d be looking back on these summers and wishing you could curl back up beneath the large willow trees, pressed against Dean’s side after a long day. When you were old and harsh like your mother, would you regret it if Dean wasn’t the man you were spending the rest of your life with? Did he even feel the same about you, or were you still a summer fling to him?

Your throat tightened at that thought. Were you becoming too attached when he had his own separate life back home, with no intention of blending you into it? The idea of him with another woman that wasn’t you boiled your blood. Yet, you still skittered on the edge of whether or not your father would even allow the two of you to be together.

Who were you kidding? You were on your mother’s timeline, it didn’t matter if you wanted to marry him tomorrow. Maybe you could convince yourself that there was still time. Your fears seemed to wash away into the cracks of the sidewalk as you pulled up to the gas station, tucking your bike into the rack beside the front door and greeting the few cars of townspeople you recognized. You were now on a mission, your mind almost blank with everything else. The handful of Cadillacs full of couples in swimsuits that you had familiarized yourself with in school attempted light conversation with you as you vaguely surveyed the station before finally spotting Dean. His dark jumpsuit was, of course, already filthy as he wiped his hands on a towel, in mid-conversation with another mechanic. Your heart felt heavy looking at him again, as if you were seeing him for the first time again. His bright eyes turned to you as if he had sensed your presence, his smile brightening at your appearance as he headed for you.

You fought your blush as you excused yourself from the group and walked to meet him half-way. His usual dapper mood was still prevalent as he stood before you, seemingly pleased that you were there to see him. “Hey, I’d kiss you but-” He began but your impatience and slightly distraught expression sent his brows furrowing. He seemed hesitant to ask you what was wrong, like he knew what you’d chased him down for. He pulled his bottom lip between his gleaming teeth, tucking the towel in his back pocket.

“I heard you’re leaving soon,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your fingers. You wanted to reach out and touch him despite his begrimed appearance. It was almost your new normal now: not seeing him covered in dirt or grease was almost foreign to you. You fought against begging him to stay with you rather than go back again, or at least take you with him as his curious eyes blueprinted your appearance into his memory. “What kind of soon are we talking?”

Dean sighed regretfully, looking over his shoulder and gesturing at one of his co-workers before taking one of your hands lightly and stepping into the small station. The one-room business was empty and nearly pristine, evident that only tourists passed in whereas the locals knew not to step foot near it. “I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how to. This is probably going to be my last summer here.” You inhaled sharply, attempting to keep your noises of upset to yourself as his eyes saddened, the blue hue deepening. Is this how he felt when you left for school? At least there was a promise you’d be back. “My mum’s getting old and I’ll have to take over soon.” Your mind raced at his words. It seemed like he was finally back in your life and now he was leaving. This time for good.

Despite your fast track mind trying to figure out how to sneak into his trunk and force him to take you with him, you couldn’t think of what to say to him. “When?” Was all you could manage.

“Next week.” His words were soft and apologetic. You felt guilty for making him feel like this. You understood; if you were in his shoes you would be doing the same. You looked away from him, blinking towards the ceiling in an attempt to hide your blurring vision, misting by your budding tears. You swallowed harshly, stepping away from him and shaking off your sadness. “Hey,” Dean called for you gently, his hand reaching to touch your wrist to turn you towards him. The way you led into his closeness seemed to make him forget about not wanting to dirty your appearance. He settled his hands alongside your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him. You relaxed into his touch almost instantly, your eyes fluttering shut against the stinging tears threatening to fall. His calloused thumb brushed against your cheek. “Just because it’s my last summer doesn’t mean I won’t come back for you if you’ll let me,” his words were like a warm embrace of their own. You sighed and locked eyes with him, hoping to keep the memory of their brightness in the back of your mind. He pulled you closer to him, his lips hovering over yours with a softness like you were a rare flower he was struggling not to crush in his fist. You let your eyes drift shut against the blissful feeling of his breath fanning against your cheek before he pressed his lips against yours, the mix of sadness and worry bleeding away from your mind as the gesture seemed to tell you not to fret over the future anymore.

The bell above the general store rang into the cool air, breaking the silence in the small shop. You untied the scarf around your head as you stepped towards the cashier’s counter, vaguely thinking of back home when you’d usually be greeted by someone you’d grown up with or someone who’d babysat a friend of yours. The man behind the counter stood up straighter, tucking away the magazine he was skimming and attempting to take in your appearance. You felt like a foreigner in the desert as you stood before him. He was rather tall, with clean overalls strapped over his shoulders. “Can I get a fill up?” You asked, gesturing towards your car parked outside. The man raised his eyebrows before nodding and following you outside. “Do you mind if I wait beside you? I’ve been driving all day,” you added as he flipped open your gas lid and began filling your car. You peered around the two of you, taking in the scenery. This part of England wasn’t much different from your hometown, yet it still felt like you had wound up in an alternate reality.

“What are you doing across the pond, miss?” The man asked, his eyes quizzing your every move.

You gave him a small smile, slightly nervous. “I’m visiting my boyfriend actually. He lives down the road, or so I think. I’m kind of lost to be honest...” you mumbled the last part more to yourself as you fished the small scrap of paper out of your pocket with Dean’s address scribbled down. The man gestured slightly, asking if he could take a look and you shrugged, flashing the paper to him. His eyes lit up with recognition and a small chuckle. Before you knew it, the two of you were leaning over the truck of your car with your road map spread out beneath you both, the man explaining the twists and turns on how to get to the house, and you scribbling down a few words to get you out of the woods.

He closed your car door for you after you climbed in. “Remember, left at the fork, two rights, another left-”

“And around the bend,” you finished with a grin to match his. “Thank you for your help.”

“Thank me with an invite to the wedding. They’ve been trying to get that boy married off for years!” He jested before sending you on your way. The run-in with the shopkeeper took your mind off the stroke of nervousness that seemed to rattle around in your chest with each turn in the road. You turned up the radio in hopes that your mind would wander away and stay there until you were in front of the man again. After Dean had left, the distance between the two of you was once again agony in a way you’d never have expected it to be on that first day of summer when you met him. You felt like a crazy person as you slowly checked off your list of directions. What were you doing? What if he didn’t want you here? What if he’s moved on?

You finally made it past the last bend, your hands clammy as your eyes drifted between the road and the scrap of paper once again, looking for the correct numbers. The paper looked about as thin and crumpled as your mental state as you finally spotted a small house surrounded by cherry trees. A school bus sat in front of the driveway and as you grew closer, there he was. Dean stood in front of the door with a young boy clinging to his hand. Dean looked as if he were talking to an old friend, which you weren’t the least bit shocked at. His ability to hold conversations with anyone and everyone was almost annoying to you, but now seeing him like this, it was charming. Then something had been said involving the boy, who shied away, hiding behind one of Dean’s legs. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, attempting to remember who the kid could have been. Surely he wasn’t Dean’s.

Right?

Dean chuckled and knelt down beside the kid and murmured a few words before the child nodded at him and stepped onto the bus. Dean smiled and waved at whoever the bus driver had been as the vehicle took off. You opened your door and stepped out, catching Dean’s attention. He furrowed his brows as if trying to place you in a setting so far away from what you were used to. He’d cut his hair again, his nose slightly red from the colder air, making his eyes nearly crystal. You wet your lips, unsure of your next move. “Is he yours?” You asked. It seemed like his mind had finally allowed him to recognize that it was indeed you standing at the edge of his yard.

He shook his head. “My brother’s. First day of year one, you know.” He gestured in the direction the bus had gone with a small smile. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he stated, taking a few steps towards you. You looked at your feet mildly in embarrassment, realizing how out of left field it was to just show up unannounced halfway across the world. He leaned against your car, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket. A flannel shirt peeked out from beneath his dark coat, you noticed. The yellow and red leaves around the two of you seemed so out of place compared to the summer flowers and bright blue skies.

You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for just showing up…”

He scoffed softly, a smile creeping across his lips. “I’m not.” You forced yourself to make eye contact with him, his excited expression warming your heart and reaching your nearly frozen fingertips. He stood up and wrapped himself around you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply. You let the tension from the last few months evade your body as you tucked your hands around his waist, yearning to touch the softness of his flannel. You weren’t sure how it was possible, but Dean still smelled like the summer sun was settling against his skin. He moved to kiss your cheek, and you met him with a chaste kiss against his lips. You relaxed against his touch.

“I met your friend at the gas station,” you hummed, turning to look at him. His mouth twisted into a smirk as a flash of disbelief beckoned behind his eyes. “He was very nice.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure he was.” He knotted your fingers with his and pulled you towards the small house, placing a kiss to the back of your hand as you continued up the pathway. The home spelled like apple pie and warmth that only a full house in fall could protrude. “Wait, I just remembered,” he stopped you after you both were in the house, discarding a layer or two to hang on the coat tree in the corner. You gave him a tilted expression of worry. “Are you okay with meeting my mom?” You were taken aback slightly with a grin but before you could answer, a woman’s voice beckoned from another room around the corner. Your smile widened and you nudged him in that direction.

The woman that had called for Dean was stout, with short hair and a kind face which was furrowed in concentration as she bustled around the stove, nursing a freshly made apple pie. “How’d he do? Did he get on the bus okay?” She asked, her expressions still focused on the task at hand. Dean cleared his throat, making her eyes snap up towards the two of you as Dean stepped out of the way between you and his mother. He put a hand on your shoulder, introducing you to her with a rather proud smile on his face. Her hand was warm and inviting as she greeted you after a moment of hesitation. Her sights flashed between Dean and you, as if asking him to pinch her. She smiled brightly as Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders, recounting how he found you digging through the trash like a raccoon, making you roll your eyes and shrug his arm off playfully. It seemed like a click of time went by before she was shooing Dean outside to join the rest of the boys gathering leftover cherries. She looped her arm around yours, dragging you towards the back porch and offering you a seat.

You smiled to yourself, a rush of memories flooding from the back of your mind as Dean caught your eye. He played bashful, smirking at you from his position on a ladder beside a man that looked almost exactly like him. His cheeks were already a deeper red from the cooler temperature. It seemed like just yesterday you were perched on your own rocking chair, hungry to catch a glimpse of the new farmhand with dark curly hair and bright eyes. His smile was a carbon copy from the first time you met him, yet this time it seemed he looked at you with a sense of content as he watched his mother take to you so easily. “I’m not surprised you showed up here finally.” The woman broke the echo of calming silence that had settled between the two of you. You turned to her in your chair, pulling your eyes away from Dean. “He never shuts up about you. His brother thought you were fake to be honest,” she joked, making you chuckle lightly. “I’m glad you’re not,” she winked. You gave her a small smile before looking out towards the orchard again.

“I’m sorry to impose, really,” you apologized, a pang of worry thundering in your chest.

She scoffed. “Please! We were bound to meet sometime anyway,” she gestured towards Dean lightly. “Figured he’d ask you at some point.” Her comment was set at an ease you didn’t think your mother could ever have been at. Her welcoming calmness was comforting to you.

Still, you wet your lips cautiously. “Speaking of that, I actually wanted to talk to you,” you chewed. She put her glasses on top of her head, her eyes searching yours much like Dean’s had so many times before. “I was wondering if I could get your blessing. I want to marry Dean.” You held your breath as she blinked at you. Her eyebrow quirked up and she settled back in her chair with a sly smirk painted across her thin lips.

“I had to ask his father to marry me, you know? Those Chapman boys,” she sighed. “Where would they be without us.” You scoffed, shocked at her statement. She turned to grin at you before answering her own question. “Probably dying alone, right?” You chuckled lightly. She patted your hand, which rested on the edge of your rocker. “From what I’ve heard, you’re perfect for Dean. I don’t think I could have picked better for him.” You sighed in relief, your nervousness and unsettled stress had finally subsided with her words.

You waited until the sun had set, spending the day getting to know Dean’s family and attempting to understand the cherry farming business when you barely understood your own father’s crops. Dean’s nephew had nearly jumped into the house after he had finally been released from school for the day; the family members around welcomed him like he had been off to war. Members of the small community in town had shown up at the door bearing casseroles and pies, a tradition for fall nights like this one which you figured you could get used to. And before you knew it, you and Dean were perched side-by-side on the back steps, looking out over the orchard to gaze at the stars overhead. You snuggled up against Dean’s side as he looped an arm around yours, his eyes twinkling with the light from the moon. One of his thumbs absent-mindedly slipped into your sleeve to rub against your wrist. You were beat from the events of the day, or maybe just your ridiculous nerves skyrocketing up and down, but finally you could say you were at peace. You were right where you’d want to be, for as long as you could be.

You cleared your throat mildly. “Dean, will you marry me?” You asked, seemingly into the dark void of the night, rather than to the man braided into you. He shifted slightly to look at you, making you sit up a bit straighter.

A cocky grin spread across his face. “I thought you’d never ask,” he jested, making you shove his shoulder and send him into a small giggle fit. “I’m joking,” he breathed, pecking your lips gently. “I’ll marry you if you marry me,” he added.

You shook your head at his petulant jinxing. “All right, then it’s settled,” you responded.

“Is there some kind of dowry or do I take you for free?” He taunted with another giggle.

“I take it back,” you groaned sarcastically. He laughed harder, pulling you closer to him to seal the moment in a kiss.

#dean charles chapman #dean-charles chapman #deancharleschapman #dean #reader insert #farmer #farmer au #farmer!dean #farm!dean #xreader #x reader #lance corporal blake x reader #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman smut #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman fluff

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lawrussy · 5 years ago

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[hold me now by thompson twins plays softly in the background]

@bayonsenoals and i have been working on an 80s au and it’s just too good 🥺

#george mackay #dean charles chapman #pride #blinded by the light #joe cooper #1917 cast #80s au

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asongofgoldenfireandblackblood · 4 months ago

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Wanted Site Connection

home — navigate — wanted — discord — apply — directory — faq

We are a No-Dance!AU and a politics, family, and court-drama focused RP. To join, check out our main site, and find out who our court would like to see most on our Most Wanted page, send us a raven with any questions and once you're ready to apply, and then join us for plotting and OOC-chat on our Discord!!

Jaehaerys is particularly wanted by Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, Princess Jaehaera, Princess Visenya, Prince Daeron, Queen Alicent, and Prince Aemond,

Note: Character traits, faceclaim, and details are suggestions and can be reworked to a certain extent if discussed with the current members of the RP!

The eldest child of Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena, Jaehaerys is 10 years old, the twin of Jaehaera, and a prince of the realm. As Prince Aegon's heir, now expected to inherit Dragonstone, his upbringing is under close scrutiny by the court, and indeed all of Westeros, though this is eased somewhat by his close friendship with his betrothed and the new Queen's eldest daughter, Princess Visenya. Jaehaerys is bonded to the dragon Shrykos, who hatched in his cradle, and first rode with his mount just this year. He is known for his shy nature and intelligence, but has a tendency to become rude and emotional in stressful situations. Suggested faceclaim: Dean Charles Chapman in Game of Thrones

#asoiaf #hotd #jaehaerys targaryen #asoiaf rp #hotd rp #fantasy rp #medieval rp #royalty rp #rp partner search #rp partner wanted #prince jaehaerys #got #asongofgoldenfireandblackblood #asongofgf&bb #asongofgf&bbad #asongofgf&bbmostwanted

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withhowsadsteps · 4 years ago

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Nightmares - Tom Blake (1917)

A/N: I had this idea just before I fell asleep a few nights ago about a thing… in which Tom is actually well and alive, but not in the 1910’s. so AU!Tom I guess?

this is not that gooooood I’m sorry :( especially the ending sucks because I basically had an idea for the beginning only

oh ps. mentions of burnout.

Tom tried not to worry you too much, but his nightmares were getting worse and worse. He told you once that he had the weirdest dream that he was a WW1 soldier. That he had a friend named William Schofield with whom they were trying to save Joe and many other men. You told him that probably he was just worried about his studies, which student wouldn’t be.

“In case you forgot, your major is history, right? I think that you’ve just spent way too much time with your books” you tried to comfort him.

He knew you were exhausted. He had carried you to your bed many times when you fell asleep at your kitchen table during those late-night study sessions. Your work wasn’t making it any better either.

Little did he know that he actually would scare the shit out of you soon.

You feel your exhaustion starting to take over your body. Your computer screen revealing to you that it is already 3am. Shit. Luckily you don’t need to go anywhere tomorrow, but you do need to finish peer-reviewing a classmate’s essay. The problem is that you don’t want to be rude, but honestly the essay is one of the most confusing essays you’ve ever read. You decide to just email the comments to the person and tell them to contact you if they have any questions. While you close your laptop, you hear Tom’s steps coming out of the bedroom.

“Oh, God no. Oh, God no”, you hear him say. You get up from the kitchen table and take cautious steps towards him and while doing so you see him clutch his abdomen. Did he hurt himself? He looks terrified and wide awake but doesn’t seem to register you at all.

“Jesus. Jesus, no.” he cries out and falls on his knees, still clutching his abdomen.

“Tom! What’s wrong”, you manage to ask him while quickly dropping near him. He doesn’t answer to you but instead cries even more. That’s when it hits you. Is he having one of those war nightmares again? You grab his face between your hands and try to wake him up, starting to cry. He’s sounds like he is in pain, he sounds so frightened and it scares you.

“Tom Blake, wake the fuck up!” you manage to scream and shake him. And that seems to do the job.

Even though his eyes were open for the whole time, only now you can see from them that he is truly awake. He raises his shirt and traces his fingers on his skin as if not believing what he is seeing.

You were still crying and shaking. You really thought that something was physically wrong with him.

The doctors said that he had a burnout. Not hard to believe, right? They also suggested that he should take a break. And after complaining for a while, he admitted that he needed the break. Badly. So, for a couple of weeks, he simply enjoyed whatever activities he hadn’t had time to do. He also, believe it or not, met a guy named William fucking Schofield. They became friends very quickly. You still thought that it seemed like they had known each other forever. Tom tried to take care of you too, but you didn’t let him. But you were on the verge of a burnout, too. You denied it though. But today, today feels so hard.

Your backpack seems to weight five times than normally. Your legs feel heavy as you take the last steps from your apartment door to your sofa, kicking your shoes somewhere along the way. You collapse between the pillows and your eyes fill up with tears. It is quiet so you assume that Tom is out somewhere. Exhaustion takes over you so quickly that you don’t even realize you are falling asleep. You wake up only when you feel Tom’s lips on your forehead. You struggle to open your eyes, but you do so.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you” he says quietly, moving some of your hair away from your face.

“You need to take a break too. Please. I feel like I dragged you through hell with me” he continues. He looks worried, his blue eyes staring right at you. He looks sorry too, but you don’t blame him. Hell, if someone is to blame it is society with its pressure to graduate quickly with the highest grades possible.

You don’t say anything, but instead get up and snuggle close to him and let him hold you and soothe you.

And there you were. A history major and a philology major, struggling together to stay afloat after almost drowning. But you had each other. The familiar smell of his cologne, his warmth around you… knowing just how much he loved you. That is all that matters, right? You will make it out together. He is not a dying WW1 soldier and you are not a failure even if it sure feels like it sometimes.

“I love you more than anything” you say after a while.

“I know” he says “and I love you too”.

#tom blake #thomas blake #1917 #1917 fanfic #tom blake x reader #dean charles chapman #dean-charles chapman #dean chapman #au!tom blake

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plasticdean · 4 years ago

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stone cold - chapter 2

murky waters

mob!dean-charles chapman au warnings: language, smoking, blood, gun violence, death, violence word count: 1.6k series masterlist

I never really understood why my mother wanted to get out of Long Island so badly but as I grew up and started understanding the world and people through my own eyes, I started to fucking hate it here too.

Although my family is loaded, I never really fit in with your stereotypical Long Island guys. If you weren’t a white guy that wears those tacky plaid shirts with the ugly khaki shorts and boat shoes, being just a blunt racist, and a proud bootlicker well then, you were an outsider.

“I’m so fucking glad you never tried dressing like that,” My father sneered as he stared at all the douchebags we walked by in the parking lot of the docks.

“I would’ve beat the shit out of myself if I even thought of wanting to," I replied.

__________________

The meeting my dad and grandpa are dragging me to is happening on some big ass yacht. I had my suspicions that this wasn’t some business meeting because my father liked to do those meetings where you just know bad shit is gonna happen and someone isn’t gonna come back in the middle of the ocean so no one could hear anything and it’s a more convenient place to drop a body off if you needed to.

Come to think of it, maybe my mother is here. I know, that’s a fucked up thought to have but i, have fucked up thoughts so it’s fine.

My thoughts were cut off by a booming voice, “Ah! The Stone men! So good to see you guys again!” I looked up to see an older man who was about the same size as my grandpa on the upper deck of the big, sparkling white yacht with his hands out.

“Come on up here!” He said with a gesture.

I followed my Dad and Grandpa onto the deck and up the stairs, gripping the railing as the yacht began to move away from the dock towards the open ocean.

“Donny, this is my son Dean. He just took over the business yesterday,” My dad said as he put his hand on my shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, son, I guess I’ll be dealing with you from now on,” He said with a chuckle as he shook my hand. I looked at my dad and saw his demeanor slightly change.

Yep, I wasn’t gonna be doing any business with him. Poor fucker.

My grandpa was leaning against the railing, watching the waves hit the side of the yacht while smoking a cigar. I decided to go to the other side of the deck just in case I had the sudden urge to just push him off the side. That wouldn’t be very professional and also just wouldn’t satisfy me enough.

"Leo, I have to thank you for inviting me onto your yacht, she's a beauty," Donny said.

His yacht? Since when the fuck did my dad have a yacht?

I pulled a cigarette out and lit it up, listening to my father and Donny’s conversation. My father was using his low and condescending tone, his arm over Donny’s shoulder as they were at the front of the deck, looking out at the water ahead of them.

I puffed out a cloud of smoke as my father called me over, I sighed and put my cigarette out in the ashtray that was next to me.

“Yeah?” I asked as I walked over, seeing Donny sweating buckets and his knees looking like they’re about to buckle.

“Shoot this motherfucker right in the fucking head,” My father sneered.

“Please, please sir. I promise you it wasn’t me that took money from you. I swear to fucking god whoever told you it was me probably did it!” Donny said as he begged for his life.

My dad grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, “I think you’re a fucking rat. A dirty and lying FUCKING rat and you should know, I don’t fucking like lying rats.”

Well, that’s a bit fucking hypocritical.

“Come on Dean, shoot him in the fucking head!” My father demanded.

I pulled my gun out from my holster and pointed it at the back of his head, ready to pull the trigger until my grandpa stopped us.

“Turn him around, make him face Dean,” My grandpa instructed my father while still leaning on the railing, watching what was unfolding right in front of him.

My dad turned him around so Donny’s eyes that were full of tears and fear looked right into mine. He silently started to plead with me while I watched the sweat pouring from his hairline down to his neck.

I took a deep breath and stared right back into his eyes. He was like this because of me. I had the power to take his life.

I could hear my grandpa sigh and mumble “jesus fucking christ” under his breath. I turned my head to slightly look at him as he watched me with a doubtful and annoyed expression on his face.

I matched his expression as I pulled the trigger, the man falling right in front of me. I looked at my father who had a bit of blood on his face then looked down at the body in front of me, blood oozing out of the hole right in the back of his head.

I felt the same feeling I did when I first witnessed my father kill someone but times ten.

My dad smacked my back, “I fucking knew you had it in ya, son.” He wiped off the blood that was on his cheek with a handkerchief and looked down at the body in front of me.

I clenched my jaw and looked at my father, my Glock feeling hot in my hand.

My dad gave me the same smug look he did last night when I was ready to beat the shit out of him but, I didn't have shaking fists this time, I have a gun.

“You can’t hesitate when you do business like this,” my father said lowly.

I tilted my head and nodded and looked down at the dead man’s head and pointed my gun at it again, pulling the trigger.

“Is that better?” I sarcastically say.

BANG

“What about that, Dad?”

BANG

“Do you think he fucking understands now?” I yell.

At that moment I felt nothing. After every squeeze of the trigger, I felt nothing.

“THAT’S FUCKING ENOUGH,” My grandpa shouted as he quickly walked over to us, grabbing the gun from my grip.

I looked down at my shoes to see them covered them in the blood that was pooling out of the new bullet holes I made.

“Fuck, FUCK!” I yell out as I see the docks slowly coming into view in the distance.

I hurried up and took my shoes off and threw them off the yacht into the ocean and watched them sink.

__________________

As I leaned up against railing looking into the water, my head suddenly smacked against the railing and my throat was pressed up against the bar, slightly cutting off my airway.

“If you ever pull a fucking stunt like that I will take you out to the middle of the fucking ocean and throw your stupid ass off and make you die out there,” My father hissed as he held my head against the railing.

I tried getting out of his grip as I struggled to breathe.

He let go of me and I dropped, gasping for air. I stared up at the sky, panting, as I could feel the boat docking.

My father looked down at me, “You better get the fuck up and off the boat before YOUR men come on and clean this up.” He stepped over me and walked down the stairs.

I quickly got up and adjusted my shirt as my grandpa gave me a look before shaking his head, “fucking prick,” he mumbled as he followed my dad.

I watched them walk off the boat and onto the dock, talking to three other men who I presumed was the “clean-up crew”.

__________________

I lit up a cigarette and slowly walked downstairs and off the boat. Instead of joining the group, I walked towards the end of the dock, watching the sunset. I let out a puff of smoke and replayed the events that happened just barely 20 minutes ago.

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath, taking a long inhale of my cigarette as I thought about the feeling pulling the trigger the first time, watching the life leave his eyes. It was fucking exhilarating.

I finished my cigarette and threw it in the water and rubbed at my head as it began throbbing. I turned to go walk to the car that was waiting for us but stopped dead in my tracks as I caught writing on the side of the yacht.

La Bella Claire.

All I could feel was a coldness, like all the blood in my veins turned to ice. Did I just do that shit on a boat named after my mother? Was this her boat?? Did that sick fuck name it that on purpose??

I stood frozen in my place but turned my head to look at my dad who was waiting for me at the other end of the dock near the parking lot. He stared at me with almost a satisfied look on his face, “Come on, Dean,” he called out as he got into the backseat of the car.

I slowly turned my head away from the boat and began walking in the direction of the car. I looked back and caught the men cleaning up the upper deck and noticed that there was no one else around the docks or even in the parking lot.

I got in the passenger seat and lit up another cigarette as the began moving, the sight of the yacht slowly disappearing from the side-view mirror.

I took a big inhale and blew the smoke out of the window with a shaky sigh.

What the fuck just happened?

__________________

read chapter 3

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman fanfiction #dean charles chapman au #mob!dean #dean-charles chapman #fanfiction

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