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happy74827 · 2 days ago

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Still Waters

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is a brush with death to reveal the unspoken bond between you and the man whose secrets run as deep as the trust that you’re only now beginning to understand

WC: 1548

Category: Hurt/Comfort, [TW: Mentions of Choking, Drowning, Attempted Death}

Tonight’s the night… I finally felt productive.

『••✎••』

You wake to a haze, your head pounding like a drumbeat against your skull. The world feels tilted and unfamiliar, and for a moment, you’re not sure where you are. Soft cushions press against your back, a blanket draped over your body, warm but not stifling. The faint scent of leather and something clean—like antiseptic—lingers in the air. Your eyes flutter open, blurry at first, then sharpening on a ceiling you don’t recognize. Panic spikes, sharp and cold, but before it can take root, a shadow moves beside you.

"Hey, hey, you’re okay," a low and steady voice says, cutting through the fog.

Dexter.

His face comes into focus, hazel eyes locked on yours, calm but searching. He’s crouched beside the couch, close enough that you feel his warmth, one hand hovering near your shoulder, ready but not touching. "You’re safe. You’re just in my apartment."

Your throat feels raw like you’ve swallowed glass. You try to sit up, but your body protests—dizzy, heavy, a dull ache radiating from the back of your head. Dexter’s hand finally lands, gentle but firm, guiding you back down. "Easy. You’ve been through a lot."

You blink, trying to piece together the fragments in your mind. Your apartment. A bath. The sound of a door creaking. Then—nothing clear, just flashes of terror, water burning your lungs, a struggle. Your hand flies to your throat, trembling, and Dexter’s eyes track the movement, his jaw tightening.

"Why… why am I…?" you rasp, voice barely above a whisper. Your heart races, a sick feeling twisting in your gut as you try to grasp at memories that slip like wet glass.

Dexter hesitates, just for a second before his expression softens. He shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the coffee table so he’s eye-level with you. "You hit your head pretty hard. I brought you here to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re… you know, stable."

The words feel like they’re hiding something, and a sudden memory slams into you, sharp and vivid: Dexter’s face above you, water dripping from his hair, his voice urgent but steady. "Do you trust me?" Then, the prick of a needle in your neck, the world fading to black. Your breath catches, and you narrow your eyes at him, a spark of indignation cutting through the fog.

"You drugged me," you say, voice sharper than you expect, though it cracks at the end. You push yourself up slightly, ignoring the dizziness. "What the hell, Dexter?"

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. His gaze stays locked on yours, unflinching but not cold. "I did," he admits, voice quiet but firm. "I had to. What happened back there… you didn’t need to see it. Trust me, you couldn’t have handled seeing it." There’s a weight to his words, something raw and unguarded flickering in his eyes. "Harry—he couldn’t live with seeing things like that either. I wasn’t going to let you carry it."

You open your mouth to argue, but the sincerity in his voice stops you. You think of the fear, the water choking you, the shadow of a blade. And then Dexter, pulling you out, saving you. The anger fizzles, leaving you tired and shaky. You sink back against the couch, staring at him. "You could’ve warned me better," you mutter, but there’s no real venom in it.

A faint smile tugs at his lips, more relief than amusement. "Noted. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up." The attempt at humor is gentle, and it pulls a weak huff from you despite yourself.

Silence settles for a moment, heavy but not comfortable. You notice the way he’s watching you, like he’s cataloging every twitch, every breath, making sure you’re really here, really okay. Your chest tightens, but not from fear this time. It’s something else, something warm and unsteady.

You shift slightly on the couch, the blanket slipping down your shoulder. Dexter’s eyes flicker at the movement, and he reaches out, almost instinctively, to tug it back up. His fingers brush your collarbone, light as a whisper, and you freeze—not from fear, but from the unexpected jolt that races through you. His hand lingers for a fraction of a second before he pulls back, clearing his throat like he’s caught himself doing something he shouldn’t.

"You cold?" he asks, voice steady again, like he’s trying to smooth over the moment. He doesn’t wait for an answer; he just grabs another blanket from the armrest and drapes it over you, careful not to press too hard against your aching body.

"I’m okay," you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure if that’s true. Your head still throbs, and the weight of what happened—what must have happened—sits heavy in your chest. You don’t ask about the attacker, not yet. The gaps in your memory feel like a mercy, but they also leave you unmoored, like you’re floating just outside your own life. Instead, you focus on Dexter, on the way he’s sitting close but not crowding you, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t expect.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. "I’m… uh, glad you’re okay," he says, the words almost clumsy like he’s not used to saying them. There’s a vulnerability there, a crack in the calm he’s been holding so tightly. "When I saw you in that tub with his—" He stops, his jaw working like he’s swallowing something he doesn’t want to say. "I wasn’t sure that you’d be…"

As he drifts off, you notice the faint shadows under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He’s been carrying this too, you realize—whatever happened after you blacked out, whatever he did to make sure you’re here now. Your throat tightens, and you reach out, almost without thinking, your fingers brushing his wrist.

He freezes, just for a second, his eyes snapping to where your hand rests. You almost pull back, but then he turns his hand, palm up, letting your fingers settle against his. It’s not a grip, not a hold—just a quiet connection, warm and steady. Your heart stumbles, and you’re suddenly aware of how close he is, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the antiseptic in the air.

"You scared me," he admits, voice barely above a whisper like it’s a secret he didn’t mean to share. His thumb brushes the edge of your hand, a small, unconscious movement that sends a shiver through you. "I don’t… scare easy."

You swallow, your voice soft but steady when you speak. "You care about me."

His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. There’s something unguarded in his gaze, something that makes your breath catch. "Yeah," he says, a faint quirk on his lips, "I do."

The air feels heavier now, charged with something unspoken. You’re not sure who moves first—maybe it’s you, maybe it’s him—but the space between you shrinks. His hand slides up to your forearm, steadying you as you sit up a little more, and this time you don’t feel dizzy. You feel anchored. Safe.

"Dexter," you say, barely a whisper, testing the weight of his name. It feels different now, intimate in a way it never has before.

He tilts his head, just slightly, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, but you don’t. Instead, you lean forward, close the gap, and press your forehead against his shoulder. It’s not a hug, not quite—just a need to feel him there, solid and real. He stiffens for a split second, like he’s not sure what to do, then relaxes, one hand coming up to rest lightly against the back of your neck, careful of the tender spot where your headaches are.

"You’re okay," he says again, quieter this time like he’s saying it to himself as much as to you. His fingers thread gently through your hair, avoiding the injury, and the touch is so careful it makes your chest ache.

You stay like that for a while, breathing in sync, the world outside his apartment fading to nothing. The fear, the pain, the questions—they’re still there, but they feel distant with him this close. Eventually, you pull back just enough to look at him, and the way he’s watching you makes your heart skip. It’s not just concern now—there’s something deeper, something that makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way, how long you have.

"I’m going to get you some water," he says, breaking the moment like he’s afraid of letting it linger too long. He stands, but not before giving your hand a quick squeeze, a promise he’s not going far. You watch him move to the kitchen, his movements deliberate and practiced, but there’s a softness to him now that you’ve never seen before.

As the sound of running water fills the silence, you pull the blankets tighter around you, the ache in your head dulling to a manageable throb. You’re safe, you tell yourself, echoing his words. And for the first time in a long time, you believe it. Whatever happened in your apartment, whatever Dexter did to keep you safe, you know one thing for certain: he’s your anchor now, and you’re not letting go of that.

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thewolffairytaler · 2 days ago

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What if Thomas had a son.. how would Thomas raise a kid?

What if Thomas had an offspring? + potential outcomes as an individual

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If Thomas had a son? Oh boy, you really gave me a question I'd adore to answer. I can actually answer this by using an OC of mine, Isaiah. Not because I want to gush about this character, but because he's a fanon child of Thomas, so by using what ifs scenarios, I could do exactly just that. Also, because @taeaura had already answered this kind of question, I wanted to change it so it wouldn't exactly be the same type of answer.

His son wouldn't experience traditional childhood, I think we all can agree on that. His playground wouldn't be a park, but the dusty, dilapidated Hewitt family homestead. And sometimes the abandoned places that Jedidiah would take him to whenever he was allowed to go with him. Toys would be Thomas's old belongings, stolen victim items, and perhaps well-worn toys or handmade ones from Henrietta’s possession. As much as Thomas and his mother would want him to never witness it, little Isaiah would grow up to the sounds of slaughters, the whirring of machinery, and the guttural noises humanity makes.

I'd imagine Thomas would be struggling immensely with the role of father. He wouldn't be able to articulate his feelings or offer much emotional support. His "parenting" would likely be a combination of mimicry and instinct. He might try to teach Junior the skills he knows best: butchery, sewing, and other potential harmless activities. He'd be a father that was around, but not exactly available because of his duties in the household, and the times he was around, it would be awkward or a silent stare down. I think Thomas, although doesn't see any sort of signs of his disease on Isaiah, would constantly whenever he got anxious, just go up to his boy, and observe his features, especially his face. I do believe a part of Thomas would blame himself if his boy got any sort of disease or disability, whether it's major or not. There would be a strange sense of protectiveness, a primal urge to safeguard his offspring from the dangers of the outside world, but I don't think Thomas would have much connection to him beyond that if we follow the original timeline. Especially considering that Thomas isn't exactly sane the longer times move on, sure, his significant other could slow down the process. But let's be real, as long as both of his parents are in this situation, none of them is getting better.

Luda Mae wouldn't exactly be pleased with Thomas in the beginning, considering how Junior was conceived. She may not also be extremely judgemental to his significant other in the first stages as well. Sure, she knows you a bit, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't second guess you as a harlot. Thomas has to be the one to say otherwise and insist to her that he was the one who initiated it. Over time, though, once she realises that her boy and you really do care for each other. She's going to somehow make you two get married, whether by paper or an actual ceremony. Dont try to avoid it. She's going to get her way eventually. Also, it would please her knowing that you chose Thomas and isn’t stuck with him because of circumstances. Now, onto Isaiah, she would actually play a significant role, even if it wasn't a complete, well-intentioned one. She'd likely see Isaiah as a chance for redemption, a way to instill the "family values" she so deeply cherishes - values rooted in marriage, preservation, and a complete disregard for the outside world. She would teach Junior about the importance of family, albeit a family that kidnaps, kills, and cannibalises. She might try to instil a sense of morality, but that morality would be skewed, focusing on loyalty to the Hewitts above all else. Sure, she might get tired at times of him and Jedidiah messing around, but at the end of the day, she would adore her grandson. Especially since how affectionate and thoughtful he could be.

Charlie (Hoyt ) would be shocked to learn that Thomas has a baby on the way. Much less that he got a woman pregnant, and it was consensual. Even though he is a bit jealous, I do not doubt that he would praise Thomas for "becoming a real man," after laughing at him for messing up and creating a bastard child. At first, he would give semi threats to you to make sure you wouldn't escape, betray, or break Thomas's heart. But unlike other outsiders, they decided to keep alive for a while longer. He won't be that harsh to you. If anything, he'll try to make sure your loyalty to the family stays strong. Your Thomas's little wife now, and although he treats his nephew poorly at times, he does really care about him and the family's future lineage. Maybe a part of Charlie would doubt that it was Thomas's child, but he would think that it also made sense that you got pregnant, since Thomas was gone for one day, and hadn't told anybody where he was going beforehand. (Plus, he pressed Thomas on about you being a virgin or not in advance). When the baby boy eventually comes, he'd likely view Isaiah as another tool. He'd see the boy as a potential extension of his own twisted authority, someone he could mould into an enforcer, albeit one operating far outside the bounds of actual law. He might take Isaiah on unsettling "ride-alongs," exposing him to the brutality he inflicts on others, desensitizing him to violence from a young age. Charlie would likely try to teach Isaiah about power, about how fear and intimidation can control people. I think Charlie would see it as his roll to make sure that Isaiah becomes a masculine cold matriarch of the family when he is gone. Thomas could teach him, he dosen’t doubt that, but the boy isn't exactly the right person for the job, especially since he saw him wear a woman's face that one time. "The seclusion must have gotten to him," he thinks to himself.

There isn't much to write about Monty. But with his missing limbs and his lack of care, he would likely view Isaiah with a mixture of nonchalant and maybe as his little helper. A mini Thomas that actually cares about him. He might try to impart practical skills, teaching him how to use tools, how to maintain machinery – skills necessary for survival on the desolate landscape. Whenever a cartoon catches the boy's eye, Monty will not change the channel and would pat on the couch as a way of telling him to sit beside him so they can both watch. Isaiah may be his favourite family member. He might have a soft spot for the boy. Although that is very deep burrowed down.

Henrietta, the quiet and unsettling cousin, might be the only one to offer Isaiah a lot of kindness, albeit a deeply disturbed version. She might give him little trinkets she’s found the victims, perhaps some jewellery or a tarnished book. Henrietta might see Isaiah as someone she can connect with, someone who she sees as her own son, but not really, because she knows he isn't hers. But won't hesitate to offer being a babysitter if needed. She'd insist on the boy calling him aunty, even if she's technically his first cousin and not nephew. It is best to do that. She's already deprived of things she wanted but could never get. How her heart would melt if the boy was ever affectionate to her, a simple hug would make this woman happy.

Even the Tea Lady would play a part in the boy's life. She might teach Junior about herbs and remedies if the boy shows interest in it, which is very likely, considering Isaiah is a curious boy. Her knowledge would be tinged with something dark, though, but it would be said in a reassuring sweet tone. Perhaps involving the use of questionable ingredients sourced from the victims. There is a chance she might tell him cautionary tales about outsiders, strengthening the isolation and paranoia of the family. She is the right woman for the job, after all. She'd spoil the boy with her sweets, I'm telling you, the moment she learns that he has a sweet tooth, she'll offer him tea and cookies whenever he's around. Even when you begged the woman to not overfeed him, she'll somehow sneak him a cinnamon roll. She won't feed him to the point of obesity. She does listen to your words and concerns, but it's not every day she meets a fellow dessert lover. She just wants him to try all sorts of treats she can get her hands on.

Jedidiah would become the unsaid older brother for Isaiah. He would take him out to play, bickering like siblings. Steal each others foods whenever the other isn't looking, and Isaiah would be the one to compliment his art skills, it dosen’t matter if its bad, he'll praise him so that Jedidiahs art skills get better over time. There will be moments where Jedidiah does feel abandoned or resentment towards Isaiah, since he knows Isaiah will always be prioritised and loved over him, but it won't last for long because Isaiah and Y/n makes sure he feels needed. So that resentment will slowly turn into guilt. Even though they are cousins (Jedidiah is adopted, btw), Y/n will raise them both as if they were brothers, so the situation will be sort of like with Charlie and Thomas. But it's different because you love your boys equally. Jedidiah has accidentally called you mum at times, and he does feel embarrassed of it, Isaiah dosen’t tease him for this, he dosen’t see anything wrong with it, actually. Whenever they accidentally stumble upon a group of victims, Jedidiah makes sure to keep an eye out for Isaiah when he is wandering around, even talking for him when they are questioning him directly. He always does that with the family anyway, but he dosen’t need to translate much because they usually can understand him by body language.

What kind of individual would Isaiah become? There are multiple possibilities:

• The Mini-Leatherface: Junior might end up becoming an exact replica of his father, acquiring his physical prowess, his inability to communicate, and his violent tendencies. He would carry on the legacy of his family by becoming the next Leatherface. The most obvious—and possibly the most terrifying—outcome is this. Without the almost childish purity that occasionally glints under Thomas's mask, he could possibly be more vicious than his father.

• The Reluctant Heir: Despite growing up in a poisonous atmosphere, Isaiah may harbour a seed of empathy and a gleam of conscience. Feeling constrained by their expectations, he may be resentful of the family's actions. This internal conflict may show out as silent disobedience, self-harm, or even a frantic attempt to flee. Imagine him covertly caring for a little garden, finding comfort in the plants' beauty and growth, which stand in sharp contrast to the death and ruin all around him.

• The Manipulator: He may develop into a skilled manipulator in order to manage his family dynamics. Isaiah is a bright youngster, and even though the Hewitts will not teach him much, that doesn't change the fact that he is inherently intelligent. He could play them off one another to defend himself, taking use of their unique flaws and desires. Junior may be even more deadly because he's at a level of intelligence and cunning that would be considered sociopathic if not handled with care. Imagine him quietly influencing Hoyt, making hints that heighten the Sheriff's cruelty and paranoia while putting on a brave face.

• The Savior?: Isaiah could be able to halt the cycle of violence in some way, which is the least likely but not impossible. Maybe a brief interaction with an outsider, a true act of kindness, could cause him to change. In an effort to save innocent lives, he might even try to turn against his family. Extreme bravery and a readiness to reject the only world he has ever known would be necessary in this situation. Quietly rebelling against his own blood by destroying the family's traps and leaving hints for possible victims. His mother's frequent presence could further raise the likelihood that this would occur. Letting him know what's going on, making her boy understand why it's wrong. Not manipulating him, but showing her genuine care and love through him to feel sympathy for the victims.

In the end, a complicated interaction of environmental factors, hereditary traits, along with nature and nurture, would determine Thomas's son's destiny. Although it's a sombre and unsettling thought experiment, it poses important queries on the nature of evil, the strength of family, and the potential for redemption—even under the most horrifying conditions. Junior's presence would surely change the Hewitt family forever, either positively or, more likely, negatively.

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