polydeuces

[polydeuces]

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔦𝔳𝔢: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔡 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔖𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; Dexter returns to the sanctuary with a decision after wrestling with the truth of what your world offers.

ℭ𝔴 / 𝔒𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; self-inflicted wound (ritual), blood imagery, internal conflict, cult themes. (1k words or so)

𝖆/𝖓 ; back in the flesh (& blood). we’re creeping forward. thank you for being patient while i crafted this chapter (& wrestled it into something i actually liked). we’re finally meeting marla and caleb, two of my favourite messes! + dexter is officially in deep. comment if you wanna be added to the taglist.. and please, enjoy !! ♱ ♡

𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝

Dexter returned to the sanctuary. The air was thick, expectant. His steps were even, but not effortless. He moved like a man following through on something he hadn’t yet admitted out loud.

You stood in the archway, your black silhouette bleeding into the stone. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The candlelight carved your features into something reverent, but unrelenting.

“Are you ready?” you asked, voice soft but charged.

“Yes.” He met your eyes, “Show me what this initiation is.”

But that wasn’t where the decision had begun.

Hours earlier, Dexter had been in his apartment. The room was dark except for the ambient glow of streetlights beyond the blinds. His hands rested on the table, still. Not calculating. Not dissecting a crime scene. Just… still.

He hadn’t slept. He didn’t need to. Sleep was for people who didn’t feel haunted while awake.

The Code had always kept him tethered. Bound by the rules, he had survived, maybe even pretended to be good. But lately, something had changed. Shifted.

You had spoken to that shift like you’d always known it existed. You hadn’t seduced him with lust or chaos. You’d simply seen him.

The version of him that wasn’t hidden behind the gloves.

Earlier that day, he’d replayed your words again and again: “You’ve built a life of structure to cage what you are. But cages rust from the inside.”

That had stayed with him.

He hadn’t admitted it to himself in the moment, but the image of your world—the freedom of it, the purpose—had begun to bleed into his daily thoughts. Not in a manic way. Not like compulsion. More like gravity.

And Elias… whoever he was… had only confirmed what Dexter didn’t want to say aloud. That you were right.

It wasn’t just temptation. It was inevitability.

By the time the sun dipped low, he wasn’t weighing the pros and cons anymore. He wasn’t convincing himself it was just observation. He was going. And he wasn’t turning back.

—

The door to the main room was open when he arrived. Light spilled from within, casting long patterns on the worn stone floor.

You motioned for him inside without a word.

Dexter stepped over the threshold and immediately felt the pulse of this place, not in ritual or worship, but in quiet purpose. The candlelight blurred around the edges, warm and warping. You stepped forward in silence, the blade already in your hand. You didn’t offer it like a test—you offered it like a promise.

Dexter took it. No questions. Just instinct. The kind he used to trust only in solitude, now tuned to you.

You watched as he rolled up his sleeve, exposing the pale, untouched skin of his forearm. He didn’t hesitate, just pressed the edge and pulled. A clean line bloomed red.

The blood came fast, slow, steady like it had been waiting.

You caught it in your palm, like you had done this before, like you would do it again. It stained your skin, warm and thick between your fingers. A kind of communion.

When your thumb pressed into the edge of the wound, his breath caught.. not from pain, but from the fact that he let it. Let you. No one else had touched him like this not just with hands, but with meaning.

This wasn’t about sacrifice. Not entirely. It was about joining. About folding one life into another.

“You belong to something now,” you said.

He looked at your hand still holding his blood. Not repulsed. Not afraid.

“Something,” he repeated, voice low.

But he meant someone. And so did you.

A silence settled, thick but not heavy. Shared. There was no curtain of performance between you just skin, blood, breath, and the flicker of belief.

His own thoughts didn’t fight it. The old internal voice, the one that told him to run, to hide, to fix. It was finally quiet. There was no Code here. Instead, there was a man reshaping himself into something he hadn’t thought possible.

The wound didn’t sting. Not really.

What lingered instead was warmth, your touch, the sound of your voice echoing through his body longer than it had through the room. Dexter sat still for a moment after you’d stepped away, eyes on the blood drying in the crease of his elbow, wondering if this was how devotion began. Not in awe, but in relief. Not in some great revelation, but in the quiet settling of noise.

You returned quietly with a bowl of water and a clean cloth, kneeling beside him like it was nothing at all. He watched you soak the rag and wring it out over the bowl, slow and practiced, like you’d done this a hundred times. Maybe you had.

“Hold still.”

He did. You cleaned the wound without a word, wiping the blood from his arm and palm in careful circles. It wasn’t clinical—it was… something else. A care that didn’t demand anything in return. Not yet, anyway.

When you looked up, your expression was unreadable but present. Like you saw him, and still stayed.

“All right,” you said, rinsing the cloth one last time. “Let’s go meet the others.”

He followed. The hallway narrowed as you led him deeper into the sanctuary. At one point, you turned your head slightly, as if to make sure he was still there.

At a quiet door, you stopped. Hand on the knob.

“They’re good people, you’ll like them.”

As he scanned the room, a woman looked up and smiled warm, unguarded.

“Well, hell,” said the woman, voice warm and amused. “You must be the famous stray. I’m Marla. Don’t worry, we bite only if you’re rude.”

Her easy presence was a sharp contrast to the serious energy of the space. Before Dexter could answer, a tall man with calm eyes and a cook’s apron stepped forward.

“Caleb,” he said simply, nodding at Dexter. “Welcome.”

Marla elbowed Caleb lightly. “Don’t scare him off with your kitchen jokes.”

Caleb chuckled. “Someone has to keep the food coming.”

Marla grinned at Dexter. “You’ll see. It’s not all shadows and silence here. We make sure the body’s taken care of, sometimes better than the mind.”

Dexter gave a small, measured nod, still taking everything in. The four of you settled into the worn chairs near a table scattered with papers. It was a common room, not much in the way of glamour; threadbare cushions, a crooked bookshelf, and the hum of familiarity.

Caleb leaned back and sighed like he’d just finished a shift at a restaurant none of you had eaten at in years. “So,” he said, stretching an arm behind Marla’s chair. “Did the ritual have to take that long, or were y’all just bonding in there?”

Marla snorted. “Took so long I thought he’d come out married.”

You tilted your head at Caleb, dry. “You wanna try it sometime? See how long you last before cracking?”

“I’d last longer than he did,” Caleb said with mock confidence, jerking a thumb toward Dexter. “He looked like he came out three years older.”

Dexter blinked, then glanced over at you. “Does everyone here joke about mild trauma, or is this a special occasion?”

“Oh, stray,” Marla grinned, “this is a special occasion. You’re new. You get the celebratory roast.”

“No gift basket,” Caleb added. “We gave those up after the toothpaste incident.”

Marla gasped, hand to chest. “Hey, I liked the peppermint one.”

“It exploded, Marla.”

You smiled faintly, the first Dexter had really seen. “Consider this your warm welcome. We make fun of each other so we don’t implode.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then muttered, “Noted.”

You stood after that, brushing your fingers against the arm of the chair as if to mark the exit. “I’ve got something to check on.”

Marla raised a brow. “What, now?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice casual, eyes unreadable. “Suddenly urgent.”

And just like that, you were gone.

—

“So,” Marla began, leaning back with a playful smirk, “what do you think so far? Not what you expected, huh?”

Dexter’s gaze flicked between them. “No. Definitely not.”

Marla’s eyes sparkled. “Good. Because if this was easy to understand, we wouldn’t be here.”

Caleb smiled quietly. “There’s a rhythm to it. A balance. You learn the steps or get lost.”

From somewhere behind a closed door, a sudden burst of raised voices cut through the quiet. Dexter’s head snapped toward the sound. Marla caught his glance and nudged him.

“Eyes over here, rookie. Don’t get distracted.”

He let out a breath and looked back at the table.

Marla leaned forward, elbows to knees, chin in hand. “We’re family. Not the sweet kind. The real kind. The kind that argues in parking lots and still shares fries. You’ll get used to it.”

Caleb pointed at him. “Or you’ll die trying.”

Dexter shook his head, lips twitching just slightly. “I think that might be true.”

Marla smiled wide. “Welcome home, stray. Stick with us,” she said, grinning. “We’ll show you the ropes. Maybe teach you how to keep your head when things get messy.”

Caleb nodded, folding his hands calmly.

Marla’s grin widened, nudging Dexter again.

“And watch out, looks like you’re starting to enjoy yourself already. Might have to call you our new favorite.”

Dexter smiled and sat back, eyes flickering once more toward the closed door, where muffled voices stirred. Something distant. Something not meant for him.

Marla stood up and stretched with a loud groan, grabbing an apple off the counter.

“Well, boys, I’m off. Try not to trauma bond without me.” She winked at Caleb, ruffled Dexter’s hair like he was twelve, and disappeared around the corner with her boots thudding off beat down the hall.

The door she’d gone through clicked shut, and suddenly it was just him and Caleb—who was scraping the bottom of a ceramic bowl with lazy precision. Whatever he’d made smelled like cumin and something smoked.

Neither spoke for a moment.

Then Caleb, without looking up, said, “She talks too much, but she’s usually right.”

Dexter didn’t respond. A faint sound drifted from the hallway, muffled voices, one of them unmistakably yours. Calm, but with a current of purpose underneath. A second voice replied, lower, steadier. Then silence.

“You hear things,” Caleb said, like he’d timed it. “Walls are thin, but meanings aren’t.”

Dexter’s eyes lingered on the hallway before turning back. Caleb set the empty bowl on the table with a soft clink, finally meeting his gaze.

“She picked you,” he said. “That means something.”

He didn’t look away.

“But don’t mistake that for safety.”

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story, just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

HI HI! new chapter coming soon.

𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔙𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔰

( The Full Series Masterlist )

In “Your Blood in my Veins,” Dexter Morgan encounters a mysterious woman who claims to truly understand his darkest urges and hints at an unsettling knowledge of his secret life as a vigilante killer. Drawn to her cryptic words, he follows her into the dark and uncovers her connections to a secret cult that turns ordinary people into killers. As Dexter navigates his intense new world, he realizes he’s facing something, or someone, that may be more dangerous—and more like him—than he ever imagined. Their complex relationship challenges his perception of true evil and identity, pushing him to confront the very darkness he seeks to control.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Physiological tension , Dark Themes, Cult Activity, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Content, Violence, Blood/Gore, Death, Explicit language. (& more) !

𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔰: Moral Ambiguity, Identity and Self-Discovery, Power and Control, Isolation and Connection, Darkness and Redemption.

𝔅𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔬𝔫𝔢: The Whispering Darkness

A tale of first encounters, secrets, and the lure of a hidden world. The vigilante is drawn to a woman whose twisted allure reveals the shadows within himself.

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

𝔬𝔫𝔢; The Ghostly Meeting

𝔱𝔴𝔬; Into the abyss

𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢; Shadows in the Church

𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯; Her World Unveiled

𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢; The Cult of the Red Hand

𝔰𝔦𝔵; Initiation’s Echo

𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫; Her Dark Philosophy

𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱; The Warning

𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢; An Unsettling Offer

𝔱𝔢𝔫; Revelations of Darkness

𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫; Between Predator and Prey

𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢; The Choice

𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫; Last Words, Lingering Questions

( to be continued . . . )

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added.

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the dexter tv show.

gifs created by @erodingsinner

[polydeuces]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗: 𝕳𝖊𝖗 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖀𝖓𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; Under your command, Dexter steps deeper into a hidden order, where loyalty is forged in quiet rituals — and a single meeting threatens to tip his understanding toward belonging.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (1k words, woah a lot !) Psychological manipulation, Coercive behavior, subtle indoctrination, growing allegiance.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

The days bled into nights, a haze of twisted conversations, clandestine meetings, and whispered secrets in shadowed rooms. Each time Dexter met with you, a new layer of your world was peeled back, revealing glimpses of something vast and unnerving. You led him down alleys he had once only viewed as prey, to forgotten corners of the city where he felt both out of place and completely at home.

On one particular night you took him deeper than ever. You met in the same church once again, where the quiet was almost suffocating, pressing down like an omen. Only this time, you took him farther. As you walked down the hall, you motioned for him to follow, and Dexter felt the pulse of another soul.

“Come closer,” you said, your voice low, shaped by quiet certainty rather than seduction. The words settled between you like a pact, spoken with an ease that came from having lived them. Your fingers brushed the carved wall — not as a guide, but as a woman who had built this place from bone and resolve.

Dexter’s eyes followed your every motion, reading not just the room, but the weight it carried for you. The flicker of candlelight cast long shadows across your features, softening them into something almost tender. Here, you were not playing a part. Here, you were whole.

“This is where they come to breathe,” you told him, your voice threaded with something quieter than reverence, heavier than pride. “Where we let go of the versions of ourselves that the world demanded.”

His gaze shifted to the worn stone beneath his feet, then to you again — always back to you. The space around you felt lived in, but not ancient. There was no pretense of holiness here. Only something raw, carved out of necessity.

“You’ve carried your rules like armor,” you continued, your eyes meeting his with unwavering focus. “You’ve built a life of structure to cage what you are. But cages rust from the inside, Dexter.”

Your steps were measured as you led him deeper, past the empty altar and through an archway into a quieter room. No ceremony greeted you, no crowd. Just the hum of quiet existence.

Someone was there — a man, seated alone at a long wooden table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, scars like old roadmaps across his forearms. He looked up as you approached, and Dexter sensed, at once, something familiar in his eyes. Not awe, not fear. Respect. Recognition.

You nodded to the man, a silent exchange between equals. “Elias,” you said simply, introducing him without embellishment. “One of the first to understand.”

Elias inclined his head, his gaze settling briefly on Dexter. There was no sizing up, no threat. Only a quiet study, as though he saw the same fracture lines in Dexter that had once split him open too.

“You’re not what I expected,” Elias said, his voice rough but not unkind.

Dexter’s response was measured, almost instinctive. “Neither are you.”

You allowed the exchange to unfold, watching Dexter not as prey, but as someone who might yet belong. “Elias is proof,” you explained, your tone steady. “Proof that what we carry doesn’t have to rot in silence. That it can be shaped into something deliberate.”

Elias’s fingers drummed against the table, casual yet purposeful. “She found me when I thought the only way forward was destruction,” he admitted, not ashamed. “Turns out, destruction has its uses. If you aim it right.”

Dexter’s gaze lingered on Elias a moment longer before returning to you. There was a flicker in his eyes — not belief, not yet, but curiosity. Dangerous curiosity.

You took a slow breath. “There’s no blind devotion here, Dexter. No gods to kneel to. Only the choice to stop hiding from yourself.”

The simplicity of the words felt heavier than any sermon.

“What you built before,” you said, eyes narrowing slightly, “was for survival. What we build here — is for something more.”

He let the weight of your words settle in his chest, feeling them like iron. Like inevitability.

“Stay,” you offered, not as a plea, but as an invitation only the surest of leaders could extend. “Watch. Understand before you choose.”

Dexter glanced once more at Elias, then to you — and, without a word, stepped further into the room.

What followed in the hours ahead wasn’t ceremony but instruction. You let Elias take the lead, as if to show that your control didn’t need to cling tightly to be absolute. That was the first lesson in itself: your power was in the axis you provided, not the shadow you cast.

Elias laid out their internal architecture with quiet precision. No myths, no blind ideologies — just structure.

“Every person here learns three things,” Elias began. “First, how to see. Not look — see. Patterns in behavior, weak seams in strong fronts. We study human nature until it becomes predictable.”

Dexter listened, sharp and attentive. This wasn’t unfamiliar territory. It was, disturbingly, a refinement of his own approach.

“Second,” Elias continued, “we learn control. Over self, over instinct, over the moment of decision. We are not wild dogs chasing urges. We are scalpels, not hammers.”

“And third?” Dexter asked, voice cool, yet edged with genuine interest.

Elias’s lips curved, not into a smile, but something more reserved. “Third is choice. To use what you are, or let it use you.”

You watched the exchange unfold with an almost imperceptible nod of satisfaction. Dexter was already threading himself into the logic, testing the weave of it against the fibers of his own code.

“You see, Dexter,” you said quietly, stepping closer, not to corner him but to anchor the conversation, “this is not a doctrine of chaos. It is clarity. Each person here operates with autonomy. They are given the tools to direct their nature, not deny it.”

There was an allure in that honesty. Dexter, who had spent his life bending himself around rigid constraints, felt the subtle tremor of something dangerously liberating.

“What happens if they lose control?” Dexter asked, his mind already calculating the risks.

“They don’t,” you answered, your tone firm, unyielding. “Because they understand the cost of failure. Not to me — to themselves. Accountability is the foundation here. I give them power, and they bear its weight fully.”

Dexter’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. It wasn’t blind faith. It wasn’t even loyalty. It was ownership. And that, he knew, was a far stronger chain than fear.

“You’re building something,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Not a family. Not a cult. A… machine.”

“A system,” you corrected softly. “One that does not falter because it does not depend on a single cog.”

Your gaze held his like steel wire — not trapping, but tying him in.

And though Dexter didn’t say it aloud, in that moment, he understood the most dangerous part of all:

You didn’t need him.

But you had carved out a place where, for the first time in his life, he might just want to stay.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024/25.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗: 𝕳𝖊𝖗 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖀𝖓𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; Under your command, Dexter steps deeper into a hidden order, where loyalty is forged in quiet rituals — and a single meeting threatens to tip his understanding toward belonging.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (1k words, woah a lot !) Psychological manipulation, Coercive behavior, subtle indoctrination, growing allegiance.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

The days bled into nights, a haze of twisted conversations, clandestine meetings, and whispered secrets in shadowed rooms. Each time Dexter met with you, a new layer of your world was peeled back, revealing glimpses of something vast and unnerving. You led him down alleys he had once only viewed as prey, to forgotten corners of the city where he felt both out of place and completely at home.

On one particular night you took him deeper than ever. You met in the same church once again, where the quiet was almost suffocating, pressing down like an omen. Only this time, you took him farther. As you walked down the hall, you motioned for him to follow, and Dexter felt the pulse of another soul.

“Come closer,” you said, your voice low, shaped by quiet certainty rather than seduction. The words settled between you like a pact, spoken with an ease that came from having lived them. Your fingers brushed the carved wall — not as a guide, but as a woman who had built this place from bone and resolve.

Dexter’s eyes followed your every motion, reading not just the room, but the weight it carried for you. The flicker of candlelight cast long shadows across your features, softening them into something almost tender. Here, you were not playing a part. Here, you were whole.

“This is where they come to breathe,” you told him, your voice threaded with something quieter than reverence, heavier than pride. “Where we let go of the versions of ourselves that the world demanded.”

His gaze shifted to the worn stone beneath his feet, then to you again — always back to you. The space around you felt lived in, but not ancient. There was no pretense of holiness here. Only something raw, carved out of necessity.

“You’ve carried your rules like armor,” you continued, your eyes meeting his with unwavering focus. “You’ve built a life of structure to cage what you are. But cages rust from the inside, Dexter.”

Your steps were measured as you led him deeper, past the empty altar and through an archway into a quieter room. No ceremony greeted you, no crowd. Just the hum of quiet existence.

Someone was there — a man, seated alone at a long wooden table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, scars like old roadmaps across his forearms. He looked up as you approached, and Dexter sensed, at once, something familiar in his eyes. Not awe, not fear. Respect. Recognition.

You nodded to the man, a silent exchange between equals. “Elias,” you said simply, introducing him without embellishment. “One of the first to understand.”

Elias inclined his head, his gaze settling briefly on Dexter. There was no sizing up, no threat. Only a quiet study, as though he saw the same fracture lines in Dexter that had once split him open too.

“You’re not what I expected,” Elias said, his voice rough but not unkind.

Dexter’s response was measured, almost instinctive. “Neither are you.”

You allowed the exchange to unfold, watching Dexter not as prey, but as someone who might yet belong. “Elias is proof,” you explained, your tone steady. “Proof that what we carry doesn’t have to rot in silence. That it can be shaped into something deliberate.”

Elias’s fingers drummed against the table, casual yet purposeful. “She found me when I thought the only way forward was destruction,” he admitted, not ashamed. “Turns out, destruction has its uses. If you aim it right.”

Dexter’s gaze lingered on Elias a moment longer before returning to you. There was a flicker in his eyes — not belief, not yet, but curiosity. Dangerous curiosity.

You took a slow breath. “There’s no blind devotion here, Dexter. No gods to kneel to. Only the choice to stop hiding from yourself.”

The simplicity of the words felt heavier than any sermon.

“What you built before,” you said, eyes narrowing slightly, “was for survival. What we build here — is for something more.”

He let the weight of your words settle in his chest, feeling them like iron. Like inevitability.

“Stay,” you offered, not as a plea, but as an invitation only the surest of leaders could extend. “Watch. Understand before you choose.”

Dexter glanced once more at Elias, then to you — and, without a word, stepped further into the room.

What followed in the hours ahead wasn’t ceremony but instruction. You let Elias take the lead, as if to show that your control didn’t need to cling tightly to be absolute. That was the first lesson in itself: your power was in the axis you provided, not the shadow you cast.

Elias laid out their internal architecture with quiet precision. No myths, no blind ideologies — just structure.

“Every person here learns three things,” Elias began. “First, how to see. Not look — see. Patterns in behavior, weak seams in strong fronts. We study human nature until it becomes predictable.”

Dexter listened, sharp and attentive. This wasn’t unfamiliar territory. It was, disturbingly, a refinement of his own approach.

“Second,” Elias continued, “we learn control. Over self, over instinct, over the moment of decision. We are not wild dogs chasing urges. We are scalpels, not hammers.”

“And third?” Dexter asked, voice cool, yet edged with genuine interest.

Elias’s lips curved, not into a smile, but something more reserved. “Third is choice. To use what you are, or let it use you.”

You watched the exchange unfold with an almost imperceptible nod of satisfaction. Dexter was already threading himself into the logic, testing the weave of it against the fibers of his own code.

“You see, Dexter,” you said quietly, stepping closer, not to corner him but to anchor the conversation, “this is not a doctrine of chaos. It is clarity. Each person here operates with autonomy. They are given the tools to direct their nature, not deny it.”

There was an allure in that honesty. Dexter, who had spent his life bending himself around rigid constraints, felt the subtle tremor of something dangerously liberating.

“What happens if they lose control?” Dexter asked, his mind already calculating the risks.

“They don’t,” you answered, your tone firm, unyielding. “Because they understand the cost of failure. Not to me — to themselves. Accountability is the foundation here. I give them power, and they bear its weight fully.”

Dexter’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. It wasn’t blind faith. It wasn’t even loyalty. It was ownership. And that, he knew, was a far stronger chain than fear.

“You’re building something,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Not a family. Not a cult. A… machine.”

“A system,” you corrected softly. “One that does not falter because it does not depend on a single cog.”

Your gaze held his like steel wire — not trapping, but tying him in.

And though Dexter didn’t say it aloud, in that moment, he understood the most dangerous part of all:

You didn’t need him.

But you had carved out a place where, for the first time in his life, he might just want to stay.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024/25.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖍 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; Standing in the church’s shadows, feels an undeniable presence and a pull toward something darker. With a single step, he leaves his past behind, bracing for what lies ahead.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (855 words) Psychological manipulation, Coercive behavior, intense psychological tension.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Dexter was rarely one for superstition. Churches, abandoned or otherwise, didn’t faze him. But tonight, standing before the crumbling, gothic structure on the outskirts of Miami, he couldn’t ignore the feeling creeping up his spine. The air was heavy with age and silence, and the once-magnificent arches now loomed like a dark sentinels above him, casting deep, endless shadows.

A note, written by you in scrawling ink as black as midnight, was tucked into the windshield wiper of his car. One word: Sanctuary. It had felt like a dare. And now here he was, searching for the answers you had promised him. Stepping inside, he was met with an overwhelming stillness. The remnants of pews were scattered in disarray, wooden fragments catching the dim moonlight through stained glass. The place smelled of damp stone and forgotten memories.

“Dexter,” your voice drifted to him from somewhere deep within the shadows, barely a whisper yet unmistakable to his ears.

He followed the sound, his footsteps echoing against the worn floors, each step resonating with a sense of anticipation he couldn’t shake. He saw you, standing near what once night have been the altar, framed by the dim light filtering through the windows. You looked beautiful here, almost like an apparition, perfectly at home in this place of darkness and decay.

“So you came,” you murmured, your voice carrying a subtle reverent tone.

“Your invitation was… hard to ignore,” Dexter replied, his voice steady, though his mind raced. “What is this place?”

“A sanctuary,” you said softly, your eyes drifting across the decaying church you called home. “A place for those who don’t quite belong anywhere else.“ You held his gaze, your expression unreadable. “People like us.”

Your eyes locking intimately with his, your words wrapping around him like an unseen thread pulling him closer. He had never longed for a place to fit in–until now, he hadn’t thought he needed one. But there you were, holding the answers he hadn’t even known he was seeking.

He didn’t ask any questions this time. Maybe because the answers didn’t matter–or because he already knew.

You stepped forward, your presence steady, unbothered by the silence stretching between you. “You didn’t come here because you couldn’t stay where you were.”

Your words hit like a fault line splitting open. No comfort, no soft edges. Just cold truth, raw and unavoidable.

“You left pieces of yourself behind,” you continued, voice quiet, like you were speaking directly to the parts he had thought he had buried. “Not because you wanted to, but because you needed to, because they didn’t fit anymore. The people, the places– they were anchors disguised as roots. And you can’t grow when you’re chained to the ground.”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance—or maybe grief—passing through him. But he didn’t look away.

You stepped closer, your fingers brushing his arm, light as breath but sharp enough to draw something out of him he wasn’t ready to name. “It’s not the leaving that haunts you. It’s the echo of what stayed behind .”

The emotions washed over him like ash—weightless, but impossible to shake off. For the first time, he didn’t feel the urge to hide, to deflect, or pretend.

“And what do you want from me?” he asked, his voice rough, brittle at the edges.

Your smile was small, but your eyes held something darker. “To show you that what you leave behind doesn’t define you. To teach you how to love without the ghost of it trailing after you. We could change everything together—not by holding on, but by burning it down.”

Something inside him switched, dark and electric, like a door unlocking in a room he’d shut long ago.

“But,” you added, your voice a piercing blade, “there is a price. If you step further into this world, there’s no turning back.”

Dexter breathed in your warning, but the thrill of the unknown drowned out any fear. You were offering him a key to something he had never allowed himself to consider, a purpose that went beyond his code, a path to explore without limits.

“I am not one to turn back,” he replied, voice firm, matching your intensity.

“Good,” you whispered, your gaze deepening. “Because the real initiation begins now.”

You turned, moving towards the shadows that stretched beyond the altar. Dexter followed you, his heartbeat thudding in his chest, feeling as though he were crossing an invisible threshold. As you stepped deeper into the abandoned sanctuary, he felt the air grow colder, thick with secrets and intentions he couldn’t yet grasp.

And for the first time in years, Dexter Morgan felt a thrill like a blade to the ribs—faith, not in salvation, but in a darkness so absolute it felt holy. In the shadows of the church he was no longer alone. A presence lingered in the stillness, just out of sight, but distinct. His body seemed to recognise it before his mind did.

The heaviness of everything he was leaving behind —the life, the lies, the mask—felt distant now, like a fading echo.

A slow breath. Then another step. Deeper into the darkness.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024/25.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

happy new year!

are we ready for a new chapter of ybimv ??

[polydeuces]

🔪 🩸 💉 🌀

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖔: 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; As the city’s shadows seems to conspire around him, you reappear, offering answers and something far more dangerous: understanding. Faced with your presence, Dexter begins to question if he can keep pretending.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (921 words) Themes of psychological manipulation, morally gray dynamics, and tension. Includes mentions of stalking and emotional vulnerability.

𝔞 / 𝔫 ; thank you so much for the immense support and encouragement on this story. it means the world to me, keep up the comments and notes !! you keep me inspired. seriously.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

The days following his encounter with you were a haze for Dexter. He replayed your conversation over and over, your twisted words echoing in his mind, daring him to go further, to step deeper into a world he didn’t yet understand. You had promised answers, hinted at something he both craved and feared. He wasn’t used to this—the pull of another person, the feeling that someone could see right through him.

Late one night, he found himself back in the same place he had first met you. His instincts told him this was a mistake, brag he was letting himself be led into a trap. And yet, the part of him that longed for understanding kept him rooted to the path, moving forward through Miami’s shadowed streets.

The city seemed quieter than usual, almost holding its breath. Every sound felt amplified: his footsteps against the pavement, the faint hum of streetlights, the distant siren waiting as a he passed through silent alleyways. Then, almost as if by fate, he saw you again, leaning against the side of a crumbling brick building, arms crossed, waiting for him.

“Back so soon?” you asked, lips curling into that enigmatic smile.

“I am here for answers,” Dexter replied, feeling a chill run down his spine. “Who are you, really?” And what do you know about me?”

You turned to face him, your gaze steady, piercing. “My name is not important. And as for what I know.. I am a collector of secrets, Dexter.”

Your words cut through the night, mysterious yet tantalizing, he found himself unwillingly drawn closer. “Why would you seek me out?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “Because you and I are alike. We both see the world for what it is—a place that needs us, people who can do what others refuse to do. I knew the moment I saw you that we were connected.”

A feeling of wariness consumed Dexter, “Connected how?” he asked. There was something dangerous about her, something he couldn’t ignore.

“I have dedicated my entire life to uncovering the potential in people. There are those who hide in the shadows and those who embrace them.” you continue. “You, Dexter, were born to embrace them,” your voice barely a whisper, as if letting him in of a secret.

He narrowed his eyes, figuring the pull of your words. “You think I’d join some cult of yours?”

You smiled with an all knowing expression. “I’m not asking you to join, I’m simply offering you a glimpse into something larger. A place where you are understood, where your urges are celebrated.”

For the first time, Dexter felt himself falter. What you said stirred something inside him—a curiosity mixed with the undeniable desire to finally be seen. His life has been an endless game of hiding in plain sight, of pretending to fit in a world where he didn’t belong. Now, here you were offering him something different, something that hinted at freedom.

“Why do you want me?” Dexter’s voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.

“That I have told this once before, I know who you really are, Dexter.” you say, soft yet sharp enough to draw blood. You reach out, your fingers barely brushing his shoulder, a tough as light as a whisper, both cold and electric, sparking something he can’t name. “And because I can show you what you’re truly capable of. The others, they have found freedom. They’re waiting waiting for you”

His breath shudders, his composure cracking. He’s a man who’s spent his life pretending, wearing masks that no longer fit. You see it, the flicker in his eyes, the pull of curiosity warring with the instinct to turn and walk away. He doesn’t know yet if he’s afraid of you, if he’s afraid of how much he wants to listen.

You step back, slowly, deliberately. The sound of your boots on the pavement fills the air, each step like a ticking clock counting down to the moment he’ll have to choose. His silence tells you everything. He won’t follow you—not now. That’s fine. They never do, at first.

“You’ll know where to find me when you’re ready,” you say, stopping just at the edge of the shadows. You glance back at him, holding his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. His face is a mask, but you see through it. You see the hunger there, buried deep but unmistakable. “But don’t take too long. The darkness doesn’t wait forever.”

With that, you step into the night, letting it shallow you whole. The shadows close around you like a shroud, but you don’t need to look back to know he’s still standing there, staring after you. You can feel it, the weight of his gaze, the tension in his body as he wrestles with himself. You can what’s coming. The seed has been planted, and it’s only a matter of time before it grows into something he can’t control.

You’ve seen men like Dexter before. They all think they’re unique, that their darkness is different, special. And maybe it is. But it always leads them to the same place. Sooner or later, he’ll come. And when he does. he’ll wonder if he ever really had a choice at all.

As you disappear into the shadows, Dexter is left alone, staring into the darkness with a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years: anticipation.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖔: 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; As the city’s shadows seems to conspire around him, you reappear, offering answers and something far more dangerous: understanding. Faced with your presence, Dexter begins to question if he can keep pretending.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (921 words) Themes of psychological manipulation, morally gray dynamics, and tension. Includes mentions of stalking and emotional vulnerability.

𝔞 / 𝔫 ; thank you so much for the immense support and encouragement on this story. it means the world to me, keep up the comments and notes !! you keep me inspired. seriously.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

The days following his encounter with you were a haze for Dexter. He replayed your conversation over and over, your twisted words echoing in his mind, daring him to go further, to step deeper into a world he didn’t yet understand. You had promised answers, hinted at something he both craved and feared. He wasn’t used to this—the pull of another person, the feeling that someone could see right through him.

Late one night, he found himself back in the same place he had first met you. His instincts told him this was a mistake, brag he was letting himself be led into a trap. And yet, the part of him that longed for understanding kept him rooted to the path, moving forward through Miami’s shadowed streets.

The city seemed quieter than usual, almost holding its breath. Every sound felt amplified: his footsteps against the pavement, the faint hum of streetlights, the distant siren waiting as a he passed through silent alleyways. Then, almost as if by fate, he saw you again, leaning against the side of a crumbling brick building, arms crossed, waiting for him.

“Back so soon?” you asked, lips curling into that enigmatic smile.

“I am here for answers,” Dexter replied, feeling a chill run down his spine. “Who are you, really?” And what do you know about me?”

You turned to face him, your gaze steady, piercing. “My name is not important. And as for what I know.. I am a collector of secrets, Dexter.”

Your words cut through the night, mysterious yet tantalizing, he found himself unwillingly drawn closer. “Why would you seek me out?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “Because you and I are alike. We both see the world for what it is—a place that needs us, people who can do what others refuse to do. I knew the moment I saw you that we were connected.”

A feeling of wariness consumed Dexter, “Connected how?” he asked. There was something dangerous about her, something he couldn’t ignore.

“I have dedicated my entire life to uncovering the potential in people. There are those who hide in the shadows and those who embrace them.” you continue. “You, Dexter, were born to embrace them,” your voice barely a whisper, as if letting him in of a secret.

He narrowed his eyes, figuring the pull of your words. “You think I’d join some cult of yours?”

You smiled with an all knowing expression. “I’m not asking you to join, I’m simply offering you a glimpse into something larger. A place where you are understood, where your urges are celebrated.”

For the first time, Dexter felt himself falter. What you said stirred something inside him—a curiosity mixed with the undeniable desire to finally be seen. His life has been an endless game of hiding in plain sight, of pretending to fit in a world where he didn’t belong. Now, here you were offering him something different, something that hinted at freedom.

“Why do you want me?” Dexter’s voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.

“That I have told this once before, I know who you really are, Dexter.” you say, soft yet sharp enough to draw blood. You reach out, your fingers barely brushing his shoulder, a tough as light as a whisper, both cold and electric, sparking something he can’t name. “And because I can show you what you’re truly capable of. The others, they have found freedom. They’re waiting waiting for you”

His breath shudders, his composure cracking. He’s a man who’s spent his life pretending, wearing masks that no longer fit. You see it, the flicker in his eyes, the pull of curiosity warring with the instinct to turn and walk away. He doesn’t know yet if he’s afraid of you, if he’s afraid of how much he wants to listen.

You step back, slowly, deliberately. The sound of your boots on the pavement fills the air, each step like a ticking clock counting down to the moment he’ll have to choose. His silence tells you everything. He won’t follow you—not now. That’s fine. They never do, at first.

“You’ll know where to find me when you’re ready,” you say, stopping just at the edge of the shadows. You glance back at him, holding his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. His face is a mask, but you see through it. You see the hunger there, buried deep but unmistakable. “But don’t take too long. The darkness doesn’t wait forever.”

With that, you step into the night, letting it shallow you whole. The shadows close around you like a shroud, but you don’t need to look back to know he’s still standing there, staring after you. You can feel it, the weight of his gaze, the tension in his body as he wrestles with himself. You can what’s coming. The seed has been planted, and it’s only a matter of time before it grows into something he can’t control.

You’ve seen men like Dexter before. They all think they’re unique, that their darkness is different, special. And maybe it is. But it always leads them to the same place. Sooner or later, he’ll come. And when he does. he’ll wonder if he ever really had a choice at all.

As you disappear into the shadows, Dexter is left alone, staring into the darkness with a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years: anticipation.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖊: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; After weeks of silent observation, you finally step into Dexter Morgan’s world, confronting him in a dim alley with the knowledge of his darkest secrets. Drawn to your cryptic words and unnerving calm, Dexter is left with the choice; uncover the first traces of a deeper and more dangerous connection or lead the life he has been for years.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (833 words) Themes of stalking, manipulation, morally gray dynamics, psychological tension, and mentions of violence.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

He felt restless, a sense of anticipation swirling beneath him. It was then that he spotted you— standing at the edge of the alley, how had he not seen you before? He’s usually very aware of his surroundings. Your silhouette was sharp against the dim glow of a street lamp. There was something undeniably captivating about you, an energy that pulled him in like gravity. He hesitated took a step closer.

“Dexter Morgan,” you said, your voice low and velvety, as if you had been waiting for him. The sound sent a shiver down his spine.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, the question spilling from his lips before he could stop it.

Your lips curled into a knowing smile. “I know far more than just your name.”

He felt his heartbeat quicken, the sudden rush of adrenaline igniting his instincts. Who was this woman? Why did she feel so.. familiar? “What is it you want?” he asked, his tone laced with caution.

“I know the real you and I want to help you understand,” You replied, stepping into the light. The glow illuminating your features— striking eyes, an intensity that felt almost magnetic. “You have urges, Dexter. Dark ones. I know what it feels like to wrestle with them.”

He felt is composure slip. No one spoke of his urges, not in the way you did. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” you countered, taking a step closer to him. “You hunt those who deserve it. You’ve chosen a path, and it is a path that many have traveled before you.”

“Who are you?” he demanded, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“Someone who has been exactly where you are,” you replied. He felt as though your gaze would pierce straight through him. “And someone who can lead you to others like you, if you’re willing to follow.”

Dexter hesitated, a flicker of intrigue battling against the instinctual wariness that had kept him alive all these years. You were unlike anyone he had encountered. She was unlike anyone he had encountered, sure Lila and Lumen had their own allure to them. But you were a riddle wrapped in shadows, and the thought of uncovering more about you, about this connection, was too tempting too resist.

“What do you mean, ‘others like me’? he pressed, squinting his eyes slightly.

“There’s a community,” you revealed, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.“They embrace the darkness, turn it into something powerful. You can help them use that power to perfect their craft, and they can show you how to embrace your true self without guilt.”

His breath caught in his throat as you spoke. Your words echoing in his mind as he tried to decode it all, there was a strange allure in your tone. “What’s in it for you?”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. “Understanding and liberation,” you said simply. “You have the potential to more than just a monster, Dexter. You could become a force, a leader of your own.”

The weight of her words pressed down on him, igniting a fire of both fear and fascination. He had prided himself of his code and only ever working alone, never sharing his work with others, not completely. Yet he felt the pull of your promise tugging at him, until his cautionary voice screamed at him that this was a dangerous game.

“Why should I trust you?” he challenged? thought his resolve was already weakening.

“Because I am just like you,” you replied, stepping ever closer, the air thickening with tension. “And because I know you’re not as alone as you might feel you are.”

The darkness inside Dexter whispered that he could have finally someone who understood the weight of his secret life, but he was torn between skepticism and a deep need to belong. He inhaled deeply, his thoughts whirling with potential.

“Where do I find you?” he asked, the words escaping him almost against his will.

“You’re smart, Dexter, keep an eye out for the unfamiliar hiding within the familiar.” You said, your voice a sultry promise. “I will be waiting for you. Just as I have been.”

With that, you turned and vanished into the depths of the night, leaving him standing alone, grappling with the unsettling knowledge that he had encountered someone—an enigma who reminded him of himself. That scared him more than anything before. As he took a step back into the fray of the city, a new darkness unfurled within him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going on a journey that would change everything.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

taglist; @delsbtch @crustaceanwitch @stre3tleopard | taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not of my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show and the writers involved. thank you.

[polydeuces]

heyy i was just wondering how your dexter fic is going it is so good i can’t wait!!

hiii !! chapter one should be out in a few hours, if not tonight !! <3

[polydeuces]

how do we like it?

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; You linger in Dexter Morgan’s shadows, close enough to feel the darkness he hides so well. You know his secrets, his rituals, the thrill he keeps hidden from the world. Silently, you wait for that perfect moment to step into his path—so he can finally see that he’s been hunted all along.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (688words) mentions of cults, stalking, potential violence, intrusive thoughts, and elements of psychological tension.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

He was supposed to be the predator.

You’d watched him for a year now, the man who walked through the world with an all too familiar blend of invisibility and quiet command. Dexter Morgan, a blood–spatter analyst by day and something far more dangerous by night. But those were his surface-level disguises. You’d begun to peel back the layers, unraveling the nuances of a man who navigated life in the shadows, just as you have for so many years now.

It started innocently enough—fleeting moments when you’d caught sight of him on the crowded Miami streets, merging into the sea of faces like he belonged there. But you knew better. You knew what it was to wear masks, to walk amoung people undetected, unseen and unnoticed. There was something about him, the way he looked at the world, made him all the more intriguing.

So you watched. Carefully, hidden, with a patience you’d honed over years of practice, you observed him as he slipped out of his office at night, slightly tense in his gaze, focused, distant, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Often times, you’d follow him to the places he frequented; his home, abandoned warehouses, places where the thin line between light and darkness blurred. You learned his routines, the way he’d pull his signature black gloves onto his hands, the way his eyes would sweep across the streets with a meticulous attention to detail before stepping into his own hidden rituals.

It fascinated you.. his dance, this performance between worlds. His life was a careful balance of precision and secrecy. And then there were his victims. You’d seen him work, watched from the edges as he sized up those he deemed worthy enough. You hadn’t intervened— after all, it wasn’t about them. It was about him. You needed to understand his purpose, what drove him and what rulebook or code tethered him to this life.

You began to study his life beyond the night as well, picking up pieces of Dexter Morgan, the man, the father, the blood-spatter analyst, the widower, the mask. You’d slip into his world unnoticed, lingering at places he went during the day; you listened to his colleagues, his sister and the casual comments that painted a picture of someone, friendly, yet distant, the “nice guy” who kept to himself.

You learned his patterns, his preferences, even the small, old habits he indulged in when he thought no one was watching. You uncovered the Dexter he showed to the world, the façade that kept his true nature hidden.

But you could see it—the subtle tension in his jaw, the guarded look in his eyes that surfaced when someone got too close, the small tells of a hidden life. The knowledge inside you—the kind of intimacy that was both exhilarating and forbidden—you knew him in a way no one else did, knew him not by the lies he told, but by the silence he kept.

So, you kept waiting, biding your time. You wanted him to know that he been seen, that he wasn’t as invisible as he thought. You wanted him to understand that he was no longer the only one who lived by a code of shadows. You watched him for countless nights—slipping in and out of his world like a phantom, leaving a sense of unease that you knew would begin to gnaw at him.

Until finally, one night, you decided it was time.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show.

[polydeuces]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[polydeuces]

Idk who needs to hear this, but the reason your fic isn't getting a lot of attention is bc it's one big block!!

[polydeuces]

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; You linger in Dexter Morgan’s shadows, close enough to feel the darkness he hides so well. You know his secrets, his rituals, the thrill he keeps hidden from the world. Silently, you wait for that perfect moment to step into his path—so he can finally see that he’s been hunted all along.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (688words) mentions of cults, stalking, potential violence, intrusive thoughts, and elements of psychological tension.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

He was supposed to be the predator.

You’d watched him for a year now, the man who walked through the world with an all too familiar blend of invisibility and quiet command. Dexter Morgan, a blood–spatter analyst by day and something far more dangerous by night. But those were his surface-level disguises. You’d begun to peel back the layers, unraveling the nuances of a man who navigated life in the shadows, just as you have for so many years now.

It started innocently enough—fleeting moments when you’d caught sight of him on the crowded Miami streets, merging into the sea of faces like he belonged there. But you knew better. You knew what it was to wear masks, to walk amoung people undetected, unseen and unnoticed. There was something about him, the way he looked at the world, made him all the more intriguing.

So you watched. Carefully, hidden, with a patience you’d honed over years of practice, you observed him as he slipped out of his office at night, slightly tense in his gaze, focused, distant, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Often times, you’d follow him to the places he frequented; his home, abandoned warehouses, places where the thin line between light and darkness blurred. You learned his routines, the way he’d pull his signature black gloves onto his hands, the way his eyes would sweep across the streets with a meticulous attention to detail before stepping into his own hidden rituals.

It fascinated you.. his dance, this performance between worlds. His life was a careful balance of precision and secrecy. And then there were his victims. You’d seen him work, watched from the edges as he sized up those he deemed worthy enough. You hadn’t intervened— after all, it wasn’t about them. It was about him. You needed to understand his purpose, what drove him and what rulebook or code tethered him to this life.

You began to study his life beyond the night as well, picking up pieces of Dexter Morgan, the man, the father, the blood-spatter analyst, the widower, the mask. You’d slip into his world unnoticed, lingering at places he went during the day; you listened to his colleagues, his sister and the casual comments that painted a picture of someone, friendly, yet distant, the “nice guy” who kept to himself.

You learned his patterns, his preferences, even the small, old habits he indulged in when he thought no one was watching. You uncovered the Dexter he showed to the world, the façade that kept his true nature hidden.

But you could see it—the subtle tension in his jaw, the guarded look in his eyes that surfaced when someone got too close, the small tells of a hidden life. The knowledge inside you—the kind of intimacy that was both exhilarating and forbidden—you knew him in a way no one else did, knew him not by the lies he told, but by the silence he kept.

So, you kept waiting, biding your time. You wanted him to know that he been seen, that he wasn’t as invisible as he thought. You wanted him to understand that he was no longer the only one who lived by a code of shadows. You watched him for countless nights—slipping in and out of his world like a phantom, leaving a sense of unease that you knew would begin to gnaw at him.

Until finally, one night, you decided it was time.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show.

[polydeuces]

𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔙𝔢𝔦���𝔰

( The Full Series Masterlist )

In “Your Blood in my Veins,” Dexter Morgan encounters a mysterious woman who claims to truly understand his darkest urges and hints at an unsettling knowledge of his secret life as a vigilante killer. Drawn to her cryptic words, he follows her into the dark and uncovers her connections to a secret cult that turns ordinary people into killers. As Dexter navigates his intense new world, he realizes he’s facing something, or someone, that may be more dangerous—and more like him—than he ever imagined. Their complex relationship challenges his perception of true evil and identity, pushing him to confront the very darkness he seeks to control.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Physiological tension , Dark Themes, Cult Activity, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Content, Violence, Blood/Gore, Death, Explicit language. (& more) !

𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔰: Moral Ambiguity, Identity and Self-Discovery, Power and Control, Isolation and Connection, Darkness and Redemption.

𝔅𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔬𝔫𝔢: The Whispering Darkness

A tale of first encounters, secrets, and the lure of a hidden world. The vigilante is drawn to a woman whose twisted allure reveals the shadows within himself.

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

𝔬𝔫𝔢; The Ghostly Meeting

𝔱𝔴𝔬; Into the abyss

𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢; Shadows in the Church

𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯; Her World Unveiled

𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢; The Cult of the Red Hand

𝔰𝔦𝔵; Initiation’s Echo

𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫; Her Dark Philosophy

𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱; The Warning

𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢; An Unsettling Offer

𝔱𝔢𝔫; Revelations of Darkness

𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫; Between Predator and Prey

𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢; The Choice

𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫; Last Words, Lingering Questions

( to be continued . . . )

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added.

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the dexter tv show.

gifs created by @erodingsinner

[polydeuces]

Babe if you're just gonna ignored all requests and quit writing at least tell us. People are expecting what they ask for .

hi! didn’t quit nor “ignore” requests. truthfully, i haven’t even been on tumblr as i’ve been dealing with a loss in my life that completely collapsed any and all creative ideas. though i don’t think i need to explain myself. i’m more than happy to fulfill your request now that im more mentally stable.

[polydeuces]

should i post the dexter fic i have or no? the fandom is dead and i need to bring air into its lungs again! it’s out of character for me but .. im desperate!

UPDATE: here’s the link to the dexter fic series masterlist !! prologue coming tonight.