#dexter showtime

[norawriteswords]

CAT & MOUSE, 2

notes:: I love literally all of you🫶🫶 thank you SO SO SO MUCH FOR READING!!🫶🫶🤭 this is a part two but it can be read as a standalone because nothing really connects to the last part <3 really similar themes to part one but with a bit more going on… kinda..😭 just under 900 words, fem pronouns used. Mentions of blood & brian cuts his palm in a kitchen setting!

Brian chopped up some tomato, his knife skills precise and practiced. He had some oil and aromatics in his pan, preparing some pasta sauce. You, his ever faithful helper, sat on the stool at his kitchen island, peeling some carrots.

Brian liked to take charge in the kitchen, and it was a great explanation as to why he had a massive walk in refrigerator- one you’d never seen the interior of. In reality, he didn’t mind cooking, but Rudy Cooper? He loved cooking.

“So, how was your day? Spare me no details.” Brian said as he began to cut up an onion. His cutting board was on the island facing you, his pan on the stovetop sizzling behind him. “It was alright.” You swished around your wine in your glass. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing me talk about the ice truck killer.” You mumbled, taking a sip.

Brian could never be sick of you, especially not when you were talking about him. He could listen to you talk for hours, regardless of topic. It was just a little added bonus he was the subject.

“Absolutely not. I could never be sick of hearing you talk doll.” He smiled affectionately, gently pinching your cheek. You felt your own little grin as you looked down to your carrot pile bashfully.

You cleared your throat. “It’s hard. You know? He’s just- smart. Annoyingly smart.” You sighed and sipped your wine. Brian nodded, turning his back to you to add the onions and tomatoes to the pan. Frankly, you were sick of thinking about the ice truck killer. “I mean, what kind of psycho has this much precision?” You huffed. 

He liked this. He liked when you inadvertently stroked his ego, it felt nice to hear it from you. His detective girlfriend. So intelligent. So close to the truth, but so far.

Brian hummed in acknowledgment, turning back to you after giving his pan a little stir. “Well you’re smart too. I have no doubt you’ll get him.” He grabbed the carrots from your little pile, cutting them into small cubes.

You sardonically exhaled in response. It had been weeks and the Miami Metro PD were getting nowhere. You looked around the kitchen, trying to be of use. You felt stumped at work, but that didn’t mean you had to be idle at home. You spotted a couple unused onions sitting on the counter.

You sprung to your feet, walking up beside Brian to grab the onions. He quirked brow at you. “What’re you doing?” He asked, genuine confusion striking his features.

“Taking the onions back to the cold room.” You announced. Before he could protest or convince you to sit back and relax you turned your back to him, already making way to the freezer.

Brian’s pulse quickened. What was he going to say? How could he manipulate this? You were going to find out. Like this. No. It wasn’t right. He had a plan. A plan to help you. He felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

In a split second Brian grabbed the kitchen knife, slicing open his palm. He winced loudly for dramatic effect, feeling practically nothing. He was used to far more pain, but this would do for now. You whipped around, dropping the onions as you rushed over.

“Rudy? What happened?” You stared at his slightly hunched over figure. You eyed the blood dripping down his forearms, your eyes going wide. “I cut my hand.. grabbed the knife the wrong way..” he lied, loving how much attention you were giving him.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him over to the kitchen sink. “Wash it.. clean it, just, let the water run over it… I’ll go grab your first aid kit..” you said, shaking slightly. You ran over to his bathroom, rummaging under the sink for any gauze or a first aid kit.

You pushed bottles of cleaning products out of the way, looking for old, white first aid box you’d seen countless times while sleeping over at his place. You spotted it, grabbing the kit as you made haste back to the kitchen where Brian had his hand under the running tap. “Let me see..” you peered over his side.

“It’s fine doll, really..” he titled his palm to show you the deep gash. You scrunched your face, feeling queasy at the sight of his blood. “I brought gauze. We’ll wrap it up tonight and get it checked tomorrow.” You mumbled. You looked around the kitchen, grabbing a clean hand towel. You turned off the tap and gently wrapped his hand up with the towel. “Keep it high and just make sure it’s all dry.” You instructed. “Yes detective.” He flashed you a little smirk, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

Opening up the first aid kit you grabbed a roll of gauze and some antibiotic cream. You motioned for him to come closer and he obliged, unwrapping the towel and resting his hand in your smaller one. “Jesus Rudy. That’s a big cut..” you mumbled, spreading some of the antibiotic cream on his palm. “I’m such an idiot. I was just trying to grab the knife..” he explained. You looked up at him, a little frown on your lips.

God, you fell into his trap so easily. You were just eating this up. It was adorable how easily you believed him.

You wrapped up his hand, gently, with such care and love it almost hurt his heart. “Thank you doll. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He smiled reassuringly. You looked up at him, tenderly rubbing his cheek.

He leant in, kissing you tenderly. You smiled, slinging your arms around his neck as he peppered kisses along your face. You giggled.

It wasn’t much, but it kept you out of the freezer. That was all that mattered. His secret wasn’t just a secret, it was a gift for you- and you have no business spoiling it before it comes to fruition.

[bebx]

Tragic brothers.

Dexter: Dexter Morgan and Brian Moser. Genesis by Valzhyna Mort † Abel’s Body to Cain by Joseph Fasano

[roemantics]

rewatching Dexter S1!! I’ve always had a soft spot for Biney

[macbethz]

dexter doodles from a few weeks ago where i try to figure out how to draw him. i love his face shape very doughy

[ashyy-slashyy]

a goofy dexter drawing for you freaks

[c0ffinshit]

Hello, You. (Dexter Morgan x Stalker!Reader) PROLOGUE

a/n: hello, you. (get it? hehe). ANYWAYS sorry i've been gone for a while. i've literally been depressed for like months but I'M OKAY NOW. i promise. so, in honor of my mental health being good now, i wrote this story about a reader who REALLY needs to see a doctor. word count: 1,466 warnings: dead dove: do not eat, mentions of attempted rape (and rape in general), assault, borderline psychopath reader, stalking, like one mention of abortion, joe goldberg core CHAPTER ONE

Hello, you. Dexter Morgan, you sick and beautiful freak of nature. I know what you’ve done. I’ll stay quiet for now since I’m such a good girlfriend. Well, about the girlfriend part. You don’t know yet. But you will soon, my love.

I would tell you how long I’ve been following you, but I fear it would make you more likely to run the other way. But the thing about that is I don’t want you gone yet. You don’t know yet that you desire me to. The same way I enjoy and crave you.

Ever since Rita died, your life has been fading colors, Dexter. You lack a desire, a need to kill, and feel that release. And I understand that better than anyone. Sure, the context may differ for us, but it always leads down the same path. You don’t have that drive, but I do. And more importantly, I want to give you that purpose you feel you lack. I’ve done everything to get your eyes to meet mine, but everything never works. It’s like I’m some piece of glass you can ignore. You want to look past me, Dexter, but I find that incredibly flustering when I’m standing there. I’ve quit jobs at places frequently and wore heavy makeup and ugly clothes, all for you. You can’t ignore me forever, Dexter.

Now I sit in a nearly empty store, just for you. It’s like I said, you can’t ignore me for long.

The store is bland and uninteresting, a place I would never expect you to be. Of course, this is where you’ll see me finally. You wouldn’t be able to unsee me. I’ve dyed my hair and changed my appearance. It’ll be hard to recognize me of the changes I’ve made. I know you’ll think: I’ve seen this girl before, but I can’t place where. But the truth is that you’ve noticed me in everything your eyes have touched. At supermarkets and malls, where I just watch you and your children enjoy a day out together. Then, your wife was murdered brutally by the Trinity Killer. Now, did I have connections to the Trinity Killer to cause her death? No, unfortunately. The death of your wife was still all him. But I quickly struck when I knew it was my time to shine. The children, not including Harrison, were finally gone. Now that I can manage. You, Harrison, and I could finally be the perfect family together.

But you had to make things complicated. First, it was Lila West. Now, I don’t like cheaters, Dexter. But here’s the thing about that. It's hard to compare all of your actions and say that cheating on your wife is the worst of them.

She was a serial arsonist. Lila didn’t understand anything about you, but she was good at taking care of your so-called addiction to heroin. You told her what she wanted to comprehend. Lila tried to save you when you were unsavable in her eyes. She wanted to save the unsavable.

Next thing you know, she’s off to France after almost killing you and Rita’s children in a house fire. She ran from you when you didn’t choose her over your wife. Pathetic, honestly. As much as I can say that I would do the same, I would be wrong. Dexter, I’ve known you for years now. We were coming up on our fourth year together. My fourth year in your life without you knowing of my existence.

Then that girl came into your life. What’s her name?

Oh, right, Lumen—the poor girl from Minnesota who sweetly begged for your help in the killing of her rapists. As much as she got in my way, I will admit, I did like her for you.

If I failed to exist, you would've destined to be with her. How funny fate works, though, since she left your sight in the blink of an eye. Was that my doing? For the most part, it was all her. Lucky me that I didn’t have to do anything before she told you that her dark passenger had left her and how she finally managed to heal from the torment. It's funny how someone so tortured by her past could move on so quickly, unlike you, who seems forever stuck in that cargo container.

My point is every girl in your life has left you in some capacity.

And the only male figure in your life failed you. I, however, understand that you don’t need saving or fixing. Killing is a part of you. Harry made that very clear to you. He tried to save you by shaping you into a hero. But as we both know, that didn’t last very long.

Now you’re here in Iron Lake, New York. Ten years clear from killings. I’m sitting outside the homely yet bland store, waiting for you to leave. Yes, I plan to follow you home. But I have a good reason. Tonight’s the night I tell you of the accident you saved me from, how you caught the man that could’ve killed me that very night. You rescued me by slaughtering him.

You probably don’t remember that night. I don’t blame you for that. It was just another kill for you. But allow me to enlighten you.

It was when you were still in Miami, November 1st, about nine at night.

I was leaving a bar after another sad night alone. A man follows me out of the bar. I can’t remember his name or his face. You would be better at recognizing his name and his face than me. All I do recall is someone grabbing me as I left, pulling me into an alley. His hand covered my screams, his other holding a hunting knife to my throat.

"Shut the fuck up, or this goes straight through your fucking neck." The man threatened, pressing the knife deeper into my neck.

I’d be powerless my whole life, always a second choice, but I never pled for what happened to me. But I don’t blame him for what he targeted me—a vulnerable young woman leaving a bar in early November. It’s a recipe for murder.

My voice tries to scream out more, my body thrashing against his. The man's grip moves away from my mouth, moving down my body. I feel tears swell in my eyes as his hand pulls up my skirt and pulls down my panties. I knew where this was going, and I was terrified. I couldn’t afford a police investigation or an abortion. I would have to carry the baby, that fucking rape baby.

Suddenly, the knife he was holding drops out of his hand. His threatening pleas of my silence turn hushed as I hear his body thud against the pavement. The loose rocks and debris scratch against his body as you drag him away. My eyes are shut tight, too scared to open them. But I knew it was you, the Bay Harbor Butcher. Things like this were happening all over the city. Stories of your heroism, saving all walks of life. You were a hero, never the villain. I just never thought it would happen to me.

The dragging briefly turns shushed as I feel your eyes on me. "Go. Run far." You say in a hushed tone.

My eyes shoot open, and it feels like my feet think for me. I do as you say. I ran, and I ran fast. My feet and lungs held my body as upright as they could. Finally, I reached a gas station near my apartment before I became tired. I ran five miles the night, just on adrenaline alone.

That’s how you saved my life that night, Dexter. Three words. You had given me a purpose and something to fight for.

It wasn’t hard to find you after that. I searched in forums across the internet, talking of this Bay Harbor Butcher persona of yours. Of course, I never encountered you on any of those, which I should’ve figured. So, my search efforts had become ten times harder. So, I did what any logical person would do and found patterns within your murders, all criminals who either went under the radar or were recently released. You try to save the people, like some sick and twisted Batman. When, if anything, you follow closer to Bateman than the caped crusader. I did what a cop or detective couldn’t have done in a year. After all that time and effort, I found your name and shady Iron Lake cabin: Dexter Morgan, a man in the countryside with a girlfriend who's a cop. Shame for her since she won’t live to hear my declaration. But even if she does, she won’t like what she hears.

[p34ce0fm1nd]

my babygirls are sociopaths

[zaricats]

i am what you made me: unlovable

LETTER TO HIS FATHER (1919, franz kafka) FRANKENSTEIN (1818, mary shelley) GREAT EXPECTATIONS (1860, charles dickens) DEXTER (2008, "our father", dir. keith gordon) ELEKTRA (420-414 BC, sophocles) THE LAST DAYS OF JUDAS ISCARIOT (2005, stephen adly guirgis) PARADISE LOST (1667, john milton) SHARP OBJECTS (2006, gillian flynn)

[landoffish]

dexter… my boy

[castielsparkle]

☆ ...on siblings & safekeeping & secrets-kept

☆ supernatural 5x02 - good god, y'all | dexter 6x12 - this is the way the world ends | supernatural 4x20 - the rapture | dexter 1x01 - dexter

please do not tag as 'ship' - this is not intended as such so fans of that please dni, thank you

[nopause]

do y'all understand? I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!!!

[norawriteswords]

CAT & MOUSE.

notes:: thank you so much for all your love on my previous post - I didn’t realize so many other people love Brian moser too🥹🥹 this fic is me trying to get back into writing, so I apologize if there’s errors or it’s written weirdly :( there should be approximately 900 words! Fem pronouns are used and i think the terms “girl” and “girlfriend” are in there a couple times. Sorry not a lot happens here but I’m hoping to do another chapter? Also, no use of y/n!!

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, feeling tiredness seep into your body. The quiet ambience of the precinct wasn’t exactly helping your drowsiness either. Distant ringing phones and low chatter faded into white noise as you struggled to stay awake.

You lazily pushed your mouse, switching tabs. You were beyond exhausted, and quite frankly sick of sitting at your desk. At the ding of the elevator you unceremoniously turned your head, expecting one of your fellow officers to return from a coffee run.

Your eyes widened at the familiar figure approaching you. You smiled softly. “Rudy? What are you doing here?” He had clearly just come from work himself, still wearing his white button up and black slacks. He looked more relaxed, shedding his lab coat and unbuttoning the first couple buttons of his shirt.

“Thought I’d see my favourite detective.” He smiled and thoughtfully tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “And bring you some of the hard stuff.” He mumbled sarcastically, handing you a cup of coffee and a pastry.

You smiled, exhaling in amusement at his comment. “Rudy… that’s so sweet of you.. you didn’t have to.” you gushed, touched by his little gesture. He smiled, leaning on your desk. He gave you a little wave, motioning for you to eat. You were quick to break into the little pastry, having a bite.

“So, how’s the investigation going?” He asked. He looked around, taking in the precinct. You groaned. “Torturous.” You sipped your coffee, appreciating how fresh it was. “We have absolutely no leads.”

Brian feigned a frown. “Really? You don’t have a shred of evidence?” He asked. He was fishing. You shook your head. “Well… I mean we had something. But it didn’t work out. We got a partial print on a lozenge wrapper- but it’s not in the system.”

Brian’s entire body froze. He blinked. “A lozenge wrapper?” He repeated. You nodded, breaking off another piece of the flaky pastry. “Yeah. I guess our guy is really into lozenges or something because Tucci told us while he was captive he would constantly hear that kinda..” you paused, thinking of how to verbalize it best. “That crinkly wrapper sound. You know?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah. So?” You paused to chew your pastry. Brian was about to lose his mind. “So, we went back to the crime scene, and I found a lozenge wrapper. But like I said, no usable prints.” You grumbled.

Brian’s heart rate steadied again. “Well, that sucks doll. Sorry.” He said affectionately, looking down at you. You smiled, basking in his affection. “It is what it is. I know we’ll nail him one way or another.” Your hopefulness brought a smile to his face. “Atta girl.” So naive.

You were supposed to be his eyes and ears in the Miami Metro PD, you were supposed to be an object to him. But how could you be an object? You with your smiles and love. God it was sickening how he fell for you. He desperately tried to detach. To use you for your purpose. He lured you into giving him the occasional insight, a little hint, some words spilled over drinks, some stolen peeks at your notebook, but nothing substantial. He was attached to you. He refused to call it love, but rather fondness. Affection. Regardless it was something he didn’t want to feel.

He sighed, wanting to find as many clues about the case as he could, while still trying to seem like an attentive boyfriend. “Any dinner plans?” He asked, looking at a whiteboard beside your desk. Photos of suspects, locations, bodies. He felt a pang of pride.

“No. Did you wanna get something?” You peered up at him, hoping he’d say yes. He smiled, and your heart fluttered a little. “It’s almost one in the morning doll. I don’t think much is open.” You glanced at your watch in disbelief. “Jesus Christ.” You muttered.

He gently tilted your head up to look at him. “You should swing by my place. I’ll cook you something.” He offered. You couldn’t help your smitten expression. “Oh yeah? Like… steaks? And fries?” You smirked, trying to fish for a yes. He smiled, stroking your cheek a little. “Yeah. Steaks and fries.”

“Perfect.” You stood up, pressing a kiss to his lips, standing on your tiptoes. His hands immediately found their spot on your waist as you kissed him. “Give me ten minutes to wrap some stuff up. Wait here.” You ordered. He smiles and held his hands up. “Yes detective.”

As you happily walked away to go freshen up and return some files Brian saw his chance. He glanced around the mostly empty precinct before sitting in your desk chair. He clicked around a little, trying to find any trace of that lozenge wrapper.

He opened up a file, containing a digital copy of the partial print and possible matches. He ran the cursor along the list, deleting every potential match. He shut the tab, immediately switching to another one. He didn’t want you to find out his secret. Not like this. No. He wanted you to earn it. You were a clever girl, and one of his mistakes was no way to catch him.

He stood up and tucked in your chair, shifting his weight. You walked back, holding your coat. “Ready?”You asked. He smiled and nodded, his hand on your lower back as he walked you to the elevator. “Ready.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head.

You’d find out in due time. He’d made sure. And he was certain you’d get a nice little promotion too. He was helping you! Your career. And moving his plan along too. He liked your little game of unsuspecting cat and mouse.

[brian-moser-my-beloved]

And then Harry made him feel like shit for it

[roemantics]

I always feel so so bad for Deb

[macbethz]

was it because of you?

s8 deb attempted murder-suicide by car scene is bad. but the version of it i invented in my head? you cant even imagine

[hannibalxhopskins]

So I came across a clip earlier online from Dexter S3 (for those who are familiar with the show) and he’s in jail but the cop tells him that they have no more bunks so he’s free to leave but that they’ll have to call his wife Rita to go get him and this exchange occurred in both his inner monologue and right after Rita picks him up. This made me think of Hannibal and Clarice bc Hannibal is totally okay with killing but God forbid he disappoints Clarice 😂

Hannibal: *inner monologue* “How is it I can kill people and feel no regret, but disappointing Clarice makes me feel like the scum of the Earth?”

Hannibal: *in the car after Clarice picks him up* I’m sorry...

Clarice: I know.