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.”
mob!dean-charles chapman au
warnings: language, smoking, and drinking
word count: 1.9k
series masterlist
“Dean, are you even paying attention?”
I snapped out of my thoughts and adjusted myself in my seat behind my desk. Now that I was in charge, I took over my father’s office and lived in our uncomfortably large mansion with just the two maids while my father was gone most nights.
“I don’t think you are,” my business advisor, Julia, said with a sigh.
Julia started working for my father when she was 21 but to be honest, I’m pretty sure they were fucking for a while but I never gave a shit about my father’s extracurriculars to really look into it.
I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes, “I’m sorry, I just got a lot on my mind.”
And I did, that wasn’t a lie. For the past week, all I could think about was that yacht that supposedly my dad owned that was named after my mom. When the fuck did my dad get a yacht and why in all my 22 years of life was that my first time getting on it? Surely my mom would’ve taken me on it or at least told me about it if it was hers.
What’s really fucked is I actually killed somebody on it. Did that sick fuck actually plan that?
“Jesus fucking christ, I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon. Whatever is on your mind, please figure it the fuck out, we got a lot of shit to go through,” she said sternly, grabbing her briefcase and leaving my office, slamming the door shut.
I leaned on my desk and ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends in frustration.
Then, I realized that Julia could have the answer. She was my father’s advisor, they were close, she’d have to know about the yacht.
I quickly get up from my chair and rush out of my office and down the hall to hopefully catch up to her. I almost eat shit going down the stairs but quickly recover and make it out the front door just as she’s pulling out.
“JULIA, WAIT!” I holler loudly as I run behind her car. She slams on the brakes and rolls her window down, poking her head out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
I’m out of breath as I approach her and struggle to get my words out as I try to catch my breath, “How-how long has my dad had his yacht for?”
She furrows her eyebrows, “I don’t know, maybe twelve or thirteen years? Why?”
13 years ago I was 8, the same age my mom “disappeared”.
So my father probably killed my mother then bought a fucking yacht and named it after her? Then decided to never tell me about it until I’m 22 and even then doesn’t really tell me anything about it and instead just has me get on it and kill some man.
What the fuck?
____________
My eyes were heavy from the amount of whiskey I drank and my throat burned from cigarette smoke. After my talk with Julia, I decided to stay up and wait for my dad to stumble in and confront him.
I was sick and tired of him walking around with that stupid smug look while my mother’s blood was on his hands.
I went through a pack of cigarettes and half a bottle of whiskey. I smoked a cigarette every time I thought about my mother and drank a glass of whiskey to drown out those thoughts.
I was on the deck behind the house watching the sunrise when one of the maids came out, “Mr. Chapman, are you okay?” She asked with worry laced in her scared voice.
She was sweet but so scared and intimidated by me just because my father is a fucking prick. That’s how everyone was around us though, scared to speak because they were terrified of accidentally saying the wrong thing that would end up in them getting the shit kicked out of them….or worse.
“I’m fine, could you, however, call my father’s cell phone and tell him that his son needs him now? It’s important,” I slur as I take another cigarette out.
She nods without saying anything and goes back inside. I look back at the sun and just feel anger running through my veins.
My mother used to sit me in her lap on the balcony to the master bedroom and watch the sunset. It was one of her favorite things to do because in her words, “the sun can’t be taken away.”
What I wouldn’t give for her to be back and for the sun to be taken away.
____________
I finished the whiskey I had in my glass as I heard footsteps slowly approaching me.
“Whiskey for breakfast?” My father’s said smugly as he sat down on the step next to me.
I tore my eyes away from the sun and tried my best to concentrate on what I had planned to say to him but he was so blurry. My head was so blurry.
I think I drank too much.
“Fucking hell Dean, how much have you had?”
I stood up, stumbling a bit, and pointed my finger down at him, “fucking enough to see how much of a sick fuck you are,” I slur.
He looks up at me completely dumbfounded, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
I shake my head and slightly chuckle, feeling the liquid courage from all the whiskey I drank rising up, “That-that fucking yacht you FINALLY took me on the other day that you have owned f-for 13 FUCKING YEARS that I never knew about, why the fuck is it named after MY mother?!” I ask angrily, my words slurring.
My father just watches me, not even flinching at every word I yell and just simply shrugs, “People name their yachts all the time.”
I clench the whiskey glass that’s in my hand and out of anger I smash it down next to my father who finally flinches as the glass shatters and spreads out in pieces around him.
“BULLSHIT!” I yell, “YOU DIDN’T LOVE HER ENOUGH TO DO THAT!”
I couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey or my anger that was making me feel so hot, probably a mixture of both but I couldn’t control anything and honestly, it felt really good.
“WHO THE FUCK NAMES THEIR YACHT AFTER THEIR WIFE THAT THEY FUCKING KILLED??” I asked, my voice slightly cutting out from how loudly I was yelling.
My father quickly stood up, finally looking angry. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and got in my face, “Dean, I’m fucking tired of this shit. You don’t know ANYTHING about what riles you up so fucking much,” He says sternly.
“Yeah well maybe if you didn’t act so fucking suspicious whenever I brought it up, maybe I’d feel different,” I said, seething over his sudden behavior.
My father let me go making me stumble backward, falling flat on my back. I stayed down, groaning from the sharp pain that went through my head after bouncing it off the hardwood of the back deck.
I look up seeing my father’s blurred out figure standing over me. He shook his head and let out a loud sigh, “You’re a fucking mess, Dean. You need to figure out what’s more important to focus on before you get yourself fucking killed.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
I opened up my mouth reply but couldn’t get any words out as my vision began to blur even more and I no longer could see my dad’s figure, only complete darkness.
____________
The first thing I felt when I woke up was my face burning. I open my eyes, having to squint because of bright the sun was. I slowly sit up, my head pounding and my face hot and finally realized that I was still on the deck.
That piece of shit really left me out here?
I slowly stand up and attempt to walk back into the house. My head felt like a hundred knives were going through my head and my face felt like someone was pressing a hot iron all over it.
As soon as I make it inside, I go to the closest mirror and groan as I notice my bright red skin. A sunburn, fucking great.
I stumble into the kitchen getting a glass of water and chugging it down to relieve my awful dry mouth. One of the maids come in and gasp when she spots my face, “Oh my god Mr. Chapman, you must put aloe on your face right now, I can go get it.”
I shake my head after guzzling down another glass of water, “No, No I’m fine, I can get it myself. Thank you.”
She nods and gives me a look of sympathy before turning around and going into the living room.
I look out the window over the sink and noticed Julia’s car in the driveway. I look at the clock on the wall and see it’s almost 2:30pm. Why the fuck didn’t she try to wake me up?
I got another glass of water and moved as quickly as my body allowed me to up the stairs and down the hallway to my office.
Before I storm in I stop when I hear Julia’s voice, “Leo, I don’t know how you could’ve never seen this coming. He was never stupid as a kid and he’s certainly not stupid now.”
I heard my dad scoff, “He’s acting fucking stupid right now.”
I know he’s not fucking talking about me right now.
“No, he needs closure. His mom disappears when he’s eight and he’s now 22 and still doesn’t know where she is. Would it really be that bad if you just told-”
My dad cut Julia off, “Dean is a fucking psycho who is just unfit to run this business.”
The fucker was talking about me but also, Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My plan will totally get fucked if my douchebag father actually decides to can me.
I wait about thirty seconds before barging in, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m here.”
Julia gasps as she looks at me, my father shaking his head and standing up from behind my desk, “Julia and I already talked about what she needed to talk to you about. I wrote down the important shit that you need to look over.”
I just nodded and took over, sitting down in my chair and looked down at the paper frowning, “Who is Justin?” I ask when I scan over the name.
“I think he’s the guy that’s been taking money from us. He helps move our shipments at the docks. You need to go see him tomorrow and just ask him about it,” My dad states.
I furrow my eyebrows as I look at him doubtfully, “Just ask him about it?”
My dad just shrugs and goes to walk out, “Do what you gotta do, I just want my money back” he says lowly.
I look at Julia and she just rolls her eyes and shrugs.
Being able to finally get to go on these little “meetings” by myself really had me thinking.
I’m the one in charge. I can about things however I wanted. My father did say “do what you gotta do.”
I have endured through my dad and grandpa’s bullshit for too many years.
I certainly was going to do what I had to do.
These motherfuckers didn’t deserve to see the sunrise and sunset every day.
hello there! here’s chapter two of ‘muse’ (yes, i changed the title because it feels more fitting to the story… you’ll see *wink wink*)
i will post new chapters on mondays and fridays! i’m thinking on starting a tag list, you can send me a message if you want to be tagged on the next chapters!
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.
mob!dean-charles chapman au
warnings: strong language, violence, drinking, smoking, mentions of abuse
word count: 1.6k
series masterlist
“Okay, when you’re ready just turn the safety off, take a deep breath, and-”
“Dad, I know how to shoot a fucking gun,” I said annoyed, instantly pulling the trigger and hitting the target right in the neck.
Dad sighed and walked up to the rubber dummy target and shook his head, “why the fuck would you shoot him in the neck? Do you know how messy and unnecessary that is?”
I shrugged and stared at the dummy, “it gets the job done.”
My dad shook his head and walked over to me, putting his finger directly in my face, “No, what it does is it causes a fucking crime scene for you and then you’re putting everything at risk. You, the family, and our business.”
I didn’t even listen to a word he was saying, all I could think about was the feeling of my fist hitting him right in the nose, knocking him right the fuck out.
“You’re not even fucking paying attention,” My dad ripped the gun out of my grip and put it back in his holster, “You need to take this seriously, I’ve got your fucking grandfather up my ass talking about how you’re not ready and he doesn’t think you’ll ever be ready.”
I scoffed, “I’m fucking ready. I’ve been ready. You guys act like I just started learning all of this when I really I’ve been a part of it since I was little, but you wouldn’t know that.” My dad just looked at me timidly then turned around and walked back to the house as I smirked to myself.
Bringing up the past, more specifically, bringing up instances on how he did a really shit job “raising” me was my favorite thing to do. He never cared if I walked in on him beating the shit out of someone and on school nights I’d fall asleep at night to the sound of yelling, shit breaking, and gunshots. Father of the fucking century, right?
Everything I do is usually just to spite him.
___________________
After the “disappearance” of my mother, my dad claimed that she ran away and abandoned me but I always knew that was a load of bullshit. Other people in town knew it was a load of bullshit too but they’d never try and go snitch or talk shit about the big bad Leo Stone, that’s just suicidal.
By my douchebag of a grandfather’s constant demanding, my dad ended up getting my last name legally changed to ‘Stone’. But because I love being a dickhead, right as I turned 18, I went through the long and torturous process of changing it back to Chapman.
This, of course, went super well with both my dad and grandpa.
“YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?”
“Dean, you better be fucking joking.”
I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged at my dad, “I’m not. Why does it matter? Can I not keep my mother’s last name to honor her?”
“Honor her?? She fucking abandoned you, Dean!” My grandpa said in a scolding tone.
My whipped over to where he was standing, I clenched my jaw and tilted my head, “I think we all know she didn’t fucking abandon me,” I hissed back at him. The hatred I felt for him coursed through my body as I felt my blood boil.
He walked over to me in a menacing way and looked down at me, “and what is that supposed to mean?” He asked me condescendingly.
I stared back into his dark and cold eyes, not backing down, “did you help him? Or were you the mastermind behind it all and he was just your bitch?”
My grandpa chuckled at me, my eyebrows raised as I was trying to figure out what the fuck was so funny until he slammed me into the bookshelf behind me and wrapped his hand around my neck, “You better learn some god damn respect and remember who the fuck you’re talking to. I suggest you quit running that mouth because only bad things will happen. Get your head out of your ass and step the fuck up because soon, you’ll be the one running things and I swear to god if you fuck up what I worked so hard to build, I will fucking kill you myself.”
I wish I could just put this fucker in a nursing home and let him rot there.
___________________
It was always expected that I was going to take over the “Family business” but I kind of expected to do it before I was 22, my dad was only 18 when he took charge. Honestly, I think my dad and grandpa just don’t trust me, I don’t blame them.
Fuck them and fuck the family business.
Today though, on my 22nd birthday, my present is taking over this absolute shit show business from my father. I wish I could get it in one of those big ass red bows.
All I physically got was a copy of a contract I signed and an awkward handshake from my dad, grandpa, and a couple of other guys that bored the shit out of me with information about my duties and priorities and a bunch of other crap that I couldn’t care less about.
My dad got glasses for all of us and poured in a bit of whiskey in each glass and handed them out and began to speak as the room went quiet.
“Dean, I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Ever since you were young I could see this spark in you that made me feel like you could bring new and big things into this business to make it thrive even more than it already is. I believe in you, I love you, and I'm proud of you. To Dean,” My dad said, raising his glass up. Everyone followed and touched glasses together, repeating him. I gave a small smile and tipped my glass back, quickly swallowing the whiskey.
If I was gonna deal with my dad and grandpa’s phony “I’m so proud of you and I love you, you’re gonna do great things” bullshit all day then I was gonna need to get really fucking drunk.
I poured myself another glass and chugged it down before going outside to light a cigarette. I took a long drag and blew it out with a heavy sigh.
“Those things will kill you, you know,” My father’s voice came from behind me as he was lighting up one.
I stared at him completely dumbfounded, “and yet you’re smoking one right now,” I take another drag and start kicking the gravel in the driveway to distract myself from twhatever bullshit was about to spew from my father’s mouth.
He watches me as he sits on the stairs to the front door, “Dean, I hope you know what you’re getting into it cause to me it just seems like you don’t or that you just don’t give a fuck. I need you to give a fuck Dean.”
I chuckle and turn to him, throwing my cigarette on the ground, “Don’t try and tell me what you think. You don’t know me and you never tried to know me. You never tried to be a father, I had to raise myself. You fucked and then fired every fucking nanny I had but with the short time they were here, they knew more about me than you ever had.” I clenched my jaw and walked closer to him with my fists clenched.
He looked up at me and grinned, “You gonna hit me? Go ahead.” He blew a puff a smoke up into my face and waited.
There’s only been a few times in my life that I’ve hit my father and the consequence? He’d beat the absolute shit out of me and scream about how much of a disrespectful, useless asshole I was. The first time he did that I was 15 years old.
Like I said before, father of the fucking century.
My father stood up and sighed, closing the distance between us, “You lack honor for this family. That’s how I know you won’t succeed unless you straighten the fuck up.”
I could feel my face getting hot and my fists were shaking, “Honor? Where the fuck was your honor for your wife? Where the fuck was your honor for my FUCKING MOTHER?” I screamed in his face.
I could never cry over her. I couldn’t feel sadness, just complete anger. I never actually cried over anything, I could never feel so sad, happy, or angry over something that I just cried. My only release was the feeling of pulling the trigger, drinking or fighting.
“Are you done?” My father asked as if he was talking to a small child that was throwing a temper tantrum.
I shook my head, backing away from him and turned around so I didn’t have to look at that stupid grin he always had when I backed down.
“Your grandfather and I have some things we need to take care of tomorrow, you’re gonna come with us,” He stated as he walked back up the stairs.
“Oh, and Happy Birthday son,” he called out as he went back inside.
All the rage I felt was still there. I was sweating, short of breath and my hands continued to shake.
“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” I yelled out, facing my house hoping the pricks in there could hear me.
I knew my outbursts weren’t doing anything but I needed to give them something. They knew I had a temper that made me act out and I continued to act out and have a shitty attitude.
I needed something to distract them with. While they try to fix me and make me the “honorable” men that they were, I was going to take everything from them and then blow their fucking brains out.
mob!dean-charles chapman au
warnings: violence, blood, language
word count: 890
series masterlist
Dean-Charles Chapman was seven years old when he first saw someone die. The life leaving their eyes, their body falling, blood pooling out of their chest, making a puddle on the floor next to them.
Dean wasn’t scared, he was mesmerized. His small body hid behind the door to his dad’s office but his head peaked in just enough to watch his father take a man’s life.
Dean continued to stare at the scene in front of him until he heard a scream coming from behind him. Dean's mother snatched the boy away and brought him back to his room, with tears in her eyes she kneeled down in front of his bed while Dean sat down, watching his mother break down in front of him while he remained emotionless.
“Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that,” She choked out while squeezing his hands. Dean stared at his weeping mother, not understanding why she was crying but he brought up his little finger and wiped a tear off her cheek, “it’s okay mommy, I’m not scared.”
She put her hands on both his cheeks and pressed her forehead against his, “you never are, you’re my brave, strong boy.”
___________________
Claire Chapman was the only person in his life who could make him smile and genuinely feel safe. He felt warm and loved in her presence and even though he was only seven, he felt the need to protect her.
Claire met Dean’s father when they were just teenagers. He was learning the “family business” from his father and she fell in love with it, it excited her until she started seeing the true disgusting horrors that came with keeping the business successful and on top.
She was falling out of love when they got married and started loathing him after she had Dean, even after getting married, she kept her last name and decided that Dean would also keep her last name just out of spite for her husband.
Dean’s father, Leo Stone, wasn’t a cold and soulless man, he just did what needed to be done to keep things in order. He didn’t like killing, he always felt as if a piece of his humanity was being ripped from him every time he took a life. But he had to do it so everything his father built didn’t come crashing down. Even though his marriage was slowly crashing down, he put all his energy into the business to keep his father happy with him.
Robert Stone, Dean’s grandfather is a very religious man. When he was in charge, he’d go to bed and pray every night and ask for forgiveness for whatever sins he committed that day and he even continued to do it for his son once he took over and started committing the sins he learned as a teenager.
Robert is an old fashioned man. He planned for each generation of Stone men to take over the family business. So, after hearing that his daughter-in-law gave his grandson her last name, he was extremely pissed off. He yelled at Leo for days for letting it happen, demanding that she change it but she refused to every time.
Claire continued to put fuel in the fire by threatening to take Dean away from all of it, starting a new life far away from the Stone family and escape from the sick feeling she felt of just living in Long Island, New York. She thought about it every day for weeks after having to see her son witness his father murdering a man. Thoughts of running away and starting a new life with just her and her son consumed her mind 24/7 and she was starting to get bad at hiding it.
___________________
“Mommy, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Dean asked his mother as she drove him back home from school. She thought for a minute and smiled, looking at her son in the rearview mirror, “Greece.” He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, “Where’s that?” She sighed and mumbled under her breath “Far, far away.”
Those were the last words Dean heard from his mother.
As soon as she parked in their driveway, Dean eagerly got out of the car and ran inside to go ask his father the same question.
Dean searched every room for his father but there was no sign of him. The door to his office was open just a little bit and was the only room Dean hadn’t looked yet. He cautiously walked in, remembering the events he witnessed just weeks before and his father was still nowhere to be found. He walked behind his father’s fairly large dark oak desk and looked out of the large windows that overlooked the driveway and noticed his mother’s car wasn’t there anymore.
Leo came home hours later and ignored Dean’s countless inquiries on where his mother was since her and her car still haven’t shown up yet.
As Dean went to bed that night, he couldn’t feel that warmth and safety that he felt which always just came from the comfort of his mother being there or even just knowing she was there.
At that time, young and innocent Dean didn’t know that two things died that night.
summary: dean-charles chapman was exposed to the horrors of the family business at a young age, now he’s learning from his dad and grandfather how to run the business but dean’s more interested in the horrors.
warnings: mature content, language, strong graphic violence
character list
titsay
jacobvanloon
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton