Dean Winchester Novels & Stories

The pain of heartache echoed through his words. "I didn't find someone else. I got this job with the Saunders and had to move to New York City, but I didn't have any way to tell you since my letters never made it. I checked with my landlord every week though, hoping something would come, and it never did." I didn't want to cry, but I could feel the tears threatening to escape from behind my eyes. I had cried so much over Dean that I thought I didn't have any more tears left, but apparently I did. "Sergeant Dean Sherman of the 101 Airborne Division. I still remember the address." "That's correct. It probably was just some stupid government secrecy bullshit," Dean said. He closed his eyes for

"You're doing great!" I said cheering for Dean since he's trying so hard to memorize some terms for history. We're currently on our way to the basketball court. He's going to see Gio play and I'm going to see Christian. After learning more about Dean, I can say he's a pretty charming guy. He was born in Australia and then he moved to New Zealand when he was 8. He loves baseball and football. He has a little sister too and they're 10 years apart.

I said in a low tone. Dean placed everything on the dresser back in place and headed to the bathroom to place the towel back. He came out with a glass of water in his hand and as he walked back to the dresser, he gave my bum a light spank with his free hand which made me giggle. I watched as he placed the glass of water down and took out a white bottle of pills from a drawer and unscrewed the cap. He then took out a pill, placed it in his mouth and brought the glass to his lips and drank from it.

I threw my head back and laughed. “You’d make an amazing Dean Winchester,” I snickered, having become addicted to that series since Cracker introduced me to it. “Who?!” he asked, completely clueless. I just shook my head. Cracker really needed to culturalize these guys...

“I’ll be right out here, okay?” Pamela nodded, though her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath, raised her fist, and knocked. A stern voice called from inside. “Enter.” --- Dean Raymond was a man who commanded silence just by existing. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a face carved from stone and silver hair cropped military-short, he looked like he’d been born behind a desk, dispensing justice with the same ease as breathing. His office was immaculate—no stray papers, no clutter, just a single framed diploma from Harvard Law hanging behind him like a warning.

“I can try, but I don’t promise anything. And hopefully you do not ask someone to shoot me dead for failing to find your lover.” Dean grimaced and slumped back on his seat. With a sigh, he picked up his phone, as his right hand closed around the glass, and he drank the water like a starving camel. He turned his head to me and nodded for me to pour him more water. “Hello,” he placed the phone against his ear and leaned into the desk to support his elbow. “Don’t kill Zeb,” he said into the phone, and I knew he could only be talking about the bald man.

Grill teeth said meanly, and both finally left. As the door closed tightly behind them, Dean put his arse on the couch, sitting restlessly. It's Seraphina, the girl he married because he was ordered to. It's Seraphina, the girl he shouldn't even be the least attracted to. The same girl who made him lose a huge investment deal on the land. His Kelly is on the hospital bed, unconscious with a brutally wounded shoulder, shot by his brother. He should be bothered about her, not telling these Valhalla dudes to take it easy on Seraphina.

Thy had to give this case to the male Dean, not the female Dean Prescott. This man didn't look like a man who had spent his morning managing a bloody riot in the athletic wing. Sterling was in his late forties, impeccably groomed in a tailored charcoal suit, his grey-ing hair slicked back perfectly. As the Dean of Discipline and Student Affairs, he had the power to ruin college applications, revoke athletic scholarships, or scrub disciplinary records with the stroke of his silver fountain pen. ​I didn't sit. I stayed standing near the heavy leather armchair, my blood-stained hands shoved deep into the pockets of my unbuttoned coat. My left side felt like a furnace, every shallow breath dragg

Dhaxzy and the Dean both turn their head where is the voice coming from and they are both shock when they see Saicki Disero. "Don't listen to him. Just put it, Dean." Dhaxzy says while his eyes are gloomy. He wants the dean to put it quickly for him to run downstairs and get back to his seat as fast as he could. Those students and guardians are just watching them. Dhaxzy is still resisting and he is guiding the Dean's hands to put the medals on him. But the dean does not letting Dhaxzy to win. He is busy staring at the owner of the school.

The Alpha lead me down a series of corridors, through thick doors and rooms connected rooms. Every now and then we'd bump into a guard or two, some obviously on duty, others simply chatting. I tried to take note of which way we went and the turns we took, but lost my way quickly. The house was one big maze. We finally came to rest in a room that appeared to be a study. The door shutting behind me, leaving me trapped in the room with the asshole in front of me. A large mahogany desk sat in the centre of the room with a window directly behind it. Two chairs sat in front of it and one large chair behind. His walls were lined with shelves.