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happy74827 · 8 months ago

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A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest getting warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita, but then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was intelligence if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bored into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted.

Bold.

If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

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fandomlit · 4 months ago

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concussed confessions (technoblade x reader)

requested by anon “Helloo, i was wondering if you'd be up to writing about c!techno and reader being best friends with secret crush on each other and during a some mission it gets really dangerous. Not sure if they'll walk out alive and squeezed in some tiny space they have this moment of intimacy and honest conversation about their feelings? :)”

summary you and technoblade find each other while fighting a raid off of a familiar village. after techno takes an axe to the arm, you rush to help him, and the buffer in the midst of chaos is enough to allow him to open up to you about his feelings.

warnings swearing, violence, fighting, killing, injury, blood and gore

a/n y’all.. this sat, completely finished, in my drafts for way too long. welcome this fic to the public eye

gif cred belongs to @mineyourowndreams

techno barely felt the arrow plunged into his armor, nor the arrow that followed that. his shield had broken long ago, but the netherite encasing his body did well in its place.

when he heard the raid bell sound, he had gotten himself prepared immediately before heading toward the village. he was taking down pairs of pillagers at a time with his axe and sword, double wielding as he had many times before. he took down one that wielded a crossbow before he heard the voice calling to him.

“technoblade!”

he turned to see a pillager coming down on him with an axe, and just barely managed to block it from pounding into his chest plate with his own axe, knocking the pillager down before delivering the final blow. he turned to see where the former warning voice had come from, and did a double take when he saw you fighting off a hoard of your own. he quickly ran his way over to help you.

“what the hell are you doing here?” he yelled over the sounds of fighting, working his way through the mob that surrounded you and a few fighting villagers.

“i have too many friends here to watch it be destroyed!” you grunted, pushing back a parade of arrows with your shield before swinging with your powerful axe in retaliation. as focused as technoblade was on winning the fight, he couldn’t help but note how beautiful you were in that moment. when you had a brief moment, you turned your determined eyes to him. “what’s your reason?”

he quickly shielded a villager next to him from an oncoming arrow before swinging back with his sword, feeling the butt of it hit against a hard skull and knocking the victim to the ground. he looked up at you with an equally serious expression. then he just shrugged, and you would’ve laughed had it not been for the next pillager charging toward you.

techno watched, almost in a trance, as you easily fought one off with a kick to the ground, wheeling around and knocking another with the blunt of your sword. most enrapturing of all was when you easily swiped one’s head off with a strong swing of your axe, a hefty flow of blood causing many other pillagers to back away while you simply basked in the spray, waiting for the next challenger.

she’s beautiful, the voices seemed to scream.

techno was so distracted by the way you simply turned your axe over in your hand and continued to fight with everything you had, that he didn’t notice the pillager creeping up behind him until it was too late. he was knocked in the back of the head, but quickly embraced the hit before he turned to his attacker. but techno was ready to block or swing a little too late, and the pillager’s axe lodged itself into the meat of his bicep. he let out a loud grunt of pain as a flush of white hot pain ran through his arm. he swung with his good arm to stab his attacker as he heard you call out his name.

“go with him!” one of the villagers at your side called. “take him into a house and block it off; we’ll be okay!”

that was all you needed to hear. you nodded in thanks before running over to the hybrid who had fallen to his knees and tugged at his good arm. “c’mon!” techno lifted himself to the best of his ability and you guided him toward a nearby house, sitting him on he small bed as you used other furniture in the room to block the door. he groaned, placing his hand on the handle of the axe, ready to rip it out.

“don’t!” you exclaimed, quickly rushing over to place your hands atop of his. “it’s preventing from bleeding out right now, wait until i can get some things.”

he let out a heavy sigh, removing his hands from the handle and you gave him a sad smile before beginning to trifle through the chests in the small house.

“you shouldn’t have come,” you spoke, your heart panging with guilt as you watched techno attempt to swallow his pain.

“i wasn’t jus’ gonna let this place burn,” he muttered, watching as you picked out a couple of materials.

“well, why not? i thought you didn’t have loyalties to people other than phil.”

“and you,” he added, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the cabin wall. he could still hear the fighting outside. “and i think im starting to be okay with that ranboo kid.. but i like this place.”

you finally sat next to him, placing down the things you had gathered. “why?”

“‘cause this is where we always meet.”

you paused your actions as you mulled over his genuine words. your heart skipped a beat as you thought. he was right; whenever you two decided to adventure together or simply hang out, you used this village as the half way point between your homes.

you began to resume your actions when he spoke again, “i dunno why, but i thought you would leave with it.”

your cheeks began to heat up at his sappy words, and you offered a quiet, “i think you’re concussed.”

“i didn’t get hit that hard.”

you ignored his words as you began to unwrap the roll of bandages you had found. “do you think you can pull it out or do you want me to?”

“i can do it,” he muttered, words slightly slurred from pain. he was sure a muscle had been torn, sparking a sudden wave of exhaustion within him as his entire body tingled with numbing pain. you were definitely smart for keeping the axe in.

you gave him a look as you began to wrap the bandage just below the wound. “can you?”

he let out a grumble before ceding, “maybe you should do it.”

you nodded, “thought so.” you held the bandage wrap in one hand and took the axe handle in the other. you looked at techno to warn him, only to see his eyes beginning to droop. you tapped his cheek with your finger, and his vermillion eyes turned to you instead. you placed your hand on his cheek. “hey, hey. it know it hurts, but i need you awake. i can’t do much for you if you’re asleep, okay?”

“whatever you say, pretty lady.”

you felt a blush creep up your neck but just sighed, “yep.”

“yep what?”

“you’re concussed.” before techno could say anything else, you yanked the axe out of his muscle, quickly dropping it to the ground as he let out a shout of pure pain. you got to work with swiftly and tightly wrapping his arm in bandages until you ran out of the roll.

after securing the bandage, you spoke gently, “good?”

“amazing,” he grunted, placing a hand on the tight wrap. he was surprised the blood wasn’t already seeping through it, but credited that to your quick work. “i didn’t know you doubled as a nurse.”

“well,” you hummed, offering him a healing potion, “you do enough dangerous stuff, you figure it out.” he frowned as he took the potion from you before gulping it down. “by the way, i might have to stitch that up when we get back to one of our houses. but i don’t have the materials here, so you’re safe for now.”

“figured,” he sighed, cringing at the bitter taste of the potion and you gathered your thoughts.

“im not leaving, by the way.”

his eyes turned to you, still tired, but stronger. “i know. it was a stupid thought.”

“no,” you said, shaking your head, “it wasn’t. it was sweet.” he raised his eyebrows in the slightest and you continued, “it shows you care about me.”

“‘course i do,” techno attempted to shrug nonchalantly, the faintest of blush creeping up onto his pale cheeks. “who else would offer to stitch me up after i got distracted staring at them and got whacked by an axe?”

you just shook your head, standing up to look for another roll of bandages to take with you. “i know you say my focused face is funny, but in the midst of battle, tech-“

“that wasn’t why i was staring,” he spoke, shaking his head. you tucked the bandage roll in an empty bag, along with another healing potion before looking up at him.

“did i have something on my face?” you persisted with a chuckle, moving to see if you could snatch anything else from the small house before you went back into the dying battle.

“no,” he said softly, watching your tactical eyes scan the room before lifting to meet his own. “you just looked beautiful.”

you offered him a flattered smile, and he took pride in the way your cheeks flushed. “you’re concu-”

“don’t believe me?” he questioned, eyeing the way you seemed to brush off his comment to keep moving about.

you hummed sheepishly, opening another chest to see what laid inside. “can you blame me? i’m in netherite armor and, uh..” you looked to the red specks that littered your exposed skin. “covered in blood.”

he just shrugged, still gazing at you in a way that made your heart actually jump. “doesn’t matter to me.” you shook your head at him amusedly and he raised his eyebrows at you. “i’m the fuckin’ blood god.”

you laughed. “right. almost forgot.” you continued to silently rustle through the chest despite your now racing heart, now too aware of his sharp eyes following your movements.

“i mean it, though,” he offered, shifting his body as best as he could to allow himself a bit more comfort. “you’re beautiful. i’ve known it since the day we met.”

“i was also covered in blood the day we met,” you hummed, standing after bagging another potion. you finally looked to techno, giving him an amused look. “so maybe you just really like blood.”

“i do,” he admitted with a shrug. “but you’re beautiful without it, too. i’ve been around you enough to know that.”

you nodded, finally settling down on the table across from where he was propped. “you are around me a lot,” you spoke, your mind still working through the honesty of his words. techno just looked at you as you jokingly offered, “maybe it’s stockholm syndrome.”

“maybe,” he agreed with a breadth of a chuckle as you wiped at some blood on your chin with a smile. he persisted, “or maybe i just really like you.”

your eyebrows raised in the slightest, your smile unwavering. “really?”

“really,” he spoke without hesitance. “i wasn’t whacked hard enough in the head to lie to you.” his pain-filled mind only barely processed his confession; he was still tired and aching, but he knew enough of his surroundings to acknowledge that you remained the most prominent thing in his mind, even when the voices were dulled by his pain. they did mutter when he saw you press a gentle hand to your heated cheek.

“that head comment is debatable,” you sighed, dropping your hand from your face. he rolled his eyes. “but.. i really like you, too.”

“really?” he questioned, almost with a mocking tone as his heart swelled in his chest.

you gave him a look, but still spoke, “really. which is crazy of me, considering you almost die every time i look away.”

despite the happiness that still lifted his heart, he gave you a deadpan look in return. “technoblade never dies, y/n.” you just rolled your eyes, though your smile never left your lips.

“keep thinking like that, and you’ll never see it coming,” you warned, taking a moment to scan your eyes over the wound you had wrapped only minutes ago.

techno gave you a skeptical look. “was that a threat?”

you let out a laugh, pressing your hand to the bandage on his arm, feeling the warmth radiating off of the cut. “no, it was definitely a promise.” you gazed up into his amused eyes, giggling again as he admired your amusement. his eyes began to feel heavy as your eyes began to look at his unscathed armor instead. when your gaze flickered back up to see his eyes fluttered closed, you immediately tapped at his cheek, “none of that. i need to properly concussion test you before you can doze off, tech.”

“right, right,” he huffed, opening his eyes again with great effort. “pretty lady telling me what to do. gotta stay awake.”

you rolled your eyes once again. “you’re just gonna keep complimenting me until we get the all clear?”

he shrugged. “yeah.” you let out a laugh, bringing up a hand to rest of his cheek. “keeps me amused.”

“i’m sure,” you hummed, moving your hand down to his good shoulder. he looked into your inquisitive eyes for a moment before watching as you leaned forward and pressed your warm lips to his own. his eyes closed again, but this time with joy and pleasure rather than exhaustion.

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