#dex x deb

[shermeral]

My favorite Folgers Christmas commercial

[shermeral]

DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE

(And by Scott Buck 😔👎)

[herefortheships]

Let me introduce you to one of the best Debster fanvids I've ever seen. 🖤

[willieverseetheland]

Heyyyy!! I just happened to stumble upon your page and I saw you take requests… and that you write for Dexter 👉🏻👈🏻 so I had this dream where he was sitting on a chair looking really troubled and scared and all the things he’s basically not (at least I think so.. just started season 4) and, in the said dream, I sort of went to him and hugged his head (if that makes sense… the motion)… and I keep thinking about it… so if you want to do sth with this information 🤣🫶🏻

Have a lovely day ✨

Of course! And thank you, you have a lovely day as well! :)

-

always

Dexter Morgan x reader

Summary: little drabble based on the ask above! ^ Warnings: a little angst, but other than that none :)

also sorry the layout looks so weird on desktop, i literally cannot figure out a way to fix it 💔

You've had a mildly irritating day at work. Your boss has been on your ass about deadlines, you were working as fast as you could. Maybe if she didn't pile so much work on you at once, you would be able to get things done on time. All you want to do is get out of your itchy sweater and slip into your comfy pajamas.

You finally make it home. As you're unlocking your front door, you can already feel the warmth of a hot cup of tea, and the comfort of soft slippers under your feet in contrast to these very uncomfortable heels you've been wearing all day. Hanging your keys on their hook and setting your purse down, you turn to your kitchen to start the kettle when out of the corner of your eye you see a figure.

You turn to look at the figure and find your boyfriend Dexter sitting in a recliner in your living room.

"Dexter! Hi, w-what are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining, just unexpected." you give a small smile

He doesn't say anything, he just looks at you, expressionless. Well, not expressionless exactly. You know what that look means. Something's wrong.

"Dexter, what's wrong? Did something happen?" You walk towards him, your face visibly concerned.

Again, no response.

He's sitting with his elbows rested on his knees, hands in his hair, eyes glued to the floor. He's stressed, troubled. You place your hand on his thigh. He looks up to meet your gaze. As he looks up, a tear catches the light as it rolls down his cheek. The look in his eyes is worry. No something more, fear.

Your mind begins racing. A million thoughts fly through your head. Is he in trouble, is Deb hurt, is he hurt, is he going to be hurt? You just want to know what he's thinking. You take his hands in yours.

You realize he doesn't need to talk right now; he just needs you to be there for him. You won't let your worry and anxiety get in the way of you being there for him in this moment.

"Dex, it's okay. You don't have to talk, I'm here." you give him a warm smile

You stand up, and Dexter's eyes follow yours until he's looking up at you. You brush your thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tear. Standing between his legs, you wrap your arms around his head, pulling him to your chest. You stand there embracing him, as he listens to the gentle thump of your beating heart.

"I'll always be here."

...

This was actually really sweet! I hope I did your dream justice! Thank you for your request :)

[manderleyfire]

#it's wild to me when people complain about deb being too mean to him #like. #this ISN'T deb! deb would never ever have said this #even at the very worst between them she still circled back to believing in him #she died wanting him to get out #this is all dexter. this is dexter's self hatred and dexter's self perception #this is the part of him that believes he's a monster unworthy/incapable of love and connection #it's his fear grief guilt #of COURSE that manifests as deb's visage #if i could have feelings for anyone #he cannot picture or fathom life without her so he creates her #but he manifests this dark image of her to torment himself for his culpability #it's his own personal hell #we're not supposed to love her like we loved the real deb we're supposed to get that this is his psyche #anyway i love this conceit and personally wish they leaned on it more (that's me being greedy and wanting more of them onscreen together) #i destroy everyone i love #she's in my thoughts all the time (via septembersghost)

DEXTER | S09E04

[the-oblivious-writer]

Shatterpoint

Debra Morgan x Reader

Part One: Debra’s Perspective

Summary: You die doing what you always do, putting other lives before your own. It's what Debra Morgan both loved and despised about you.

Warning(s): Swearing, (major) death, graphic depictions of violence (blood/gore), gun violence, phycological trauma, depression, grief/loss, and vomiting

Notes: Someone requested Debra Morgan angst so......... here it is! I ended up writing a part two from Dexter's perspective (platonically), so that'll be out tomorrow. I've been wanting to write platonic fictional dude characters x reader for some time now

Dexter’s Perspective

The first time Debra breaks down, it's in the middle of the Miami Metro parking lot. You're three days dead, and she's just found one of your forensics reports tucked into a case file – your neat handwriting mapping out blood spatter analysis, methodical and precise. She vomits behind her car, heaving until there's nothing left but bile and grief.

The second time is at your funeral. She watches them lower your body into the ground and something inside her splinters. The sound that tears from her throat isn't human. Dexter has to physically restrain her from jumping into the grave after you. Later, she'll have no memory of this – just the dirt under her fingernails and bruises on her arms where her brother held her back.

The third time destroys her completely.

It's been two weeks since that convenience store security camera caught your last moments. Two weeks since a frightened kid with a shaky trigger finger turned your chest into a crime scene. She's standing in your shared apartment, trying to pack up your things because that's what people do, right? They pack up the dead's belongings and pretend it helps.

Your forensics kit is still by the door where you left it that last morning. She opens it, and your scent hits her – latex gloves and that shampoo you loved and something uniquely you. The organized compartments blur through her tears. Each tool precisely placed, because that's who you were – someone who brought order to chaos, who could look at blood patterns and tell stories of violence with scientific detachment.

She starts throwing things. Your carefully labeled evidence containers shatter against walls. Your case files scatter like dead leaves. She's screaming, but she can't hear herself over the roaring in her head. Over the echo of your voice from that last argument:

"You can't keep running forever, Deb. I love you, but I can't chase you anymore."

The neighbors call the police. Fucking ironic, isn't it? Angel finds her surrounded by the wreckage of your professional life, clutching your laminate to her chest. She's laughing now, a horrible broken sound, because isn't this exactly what you were afraid of? Her inability to handle emotional intimacy, to face her feelings instead of drowning them in rage and whiskey.

They take her to the hospital. Put her on leave. Make her talk to department shrinks who use words like "complicated grief" and "post-traumatic stress" and "survivor's guilt." As if labeling her breakdown makes it more manageable.

She dreams of you. Not the you from the security footage, bleeding out under fluorescent lights. But the you who used to wake her from nightmares about the Ice Truck Killer, who knew exactly how she took her coffee, who could make her laugh even at crime scenes. The you who saw her walls and loved her anyway.

"I'm sorry," she tells your ghost. "I'm so fucking sorry."

But you're not there to forgive her.

Dexter finds her one night, sitting in your office at Miami Metro, organizing blood slides with obsessive precision. Trying to find patterns like you taught her, as if understanding the science of death will somehow make losing you hurt less.

"You're starting to worry me," he says, in that awkward way of his.

She laughs, sharp and bitter. "Starting to? Fuck, Dex, I'm starting to worry myself."

The security footage plays on repeat in her mind. She's memorized every detail – how you raised your hands, trying to de-escalate. How you stepped in front of the teenage clerk, protecting her. Your body jerking back, a crimson flower blooming across your chest. The way you looked surprised, almost confused, as you fell.

She keeps working cases, because what else is there? But every crime scene becomes yours. Every victim wears your face. She gets reckless, aggressive with suspects. Takes stupid risks because maybe, just maybe, if she's fast enough, smart enough, brave enough, she can save someone else's you.

Angel takes her gun after she nearly beats a convenience store robber to death.

"This isn't what they would have wanted," he tells her gently.

"Yeah? Well, they're not fucking here to want anything, are they?"

She finds one of your hair ties under the bed and falls apart all over again. Remembers how you used to gather your hair back before leaning over evidence, that little furrow of concentration between your brows. How she used to tease you about being so serious, so focused. How you'd smile and say, "Someone has to be, with you charging around like a hurricane."

The hurricane is all that's left now.

Some days she can almost pretend she's healing. She goes to work, follows leads, eats when Dexter reminds her to. But then she'll catch a glimpse of the forensics lab, or smell latex gloves, or hear someone mention blood spatter analysis, and she's right back in that convenience store, watching you die on an endless loop.

The department shrink asks her what she thinks you would say if you could see her now.

She doesn't tell him about the letter she found in your forensics manual. The one that begs her not to let grief make her harder, not to let loss change how fiercely she loves. She's already failed you there.

Instead, she says, "They'd probably say I'm proving them right. About running away. About not being able to handle my feelings."

But that's not entirely true, is it? Because this time she's not running. She's standing perfectly still, letting grief consume her, letting the absence of you hollow her out until there's nothing left but echoes and regret.

The security footage plays on. You raise your hands. The gun fires. You fall.

And somewhere in Miami, Debra Morgan keeps breaking, keeps shattering, keeps failing to put herself back together.

Some things just break, and stay broken, and all we can do is learn to breathe around the shards.

-----------

A/N: Not me changing my format...

[deadfuckingflowers]

When we were young, we used to get so close to it And you were scared and you were beautiful I wanna peer over the edge and see in death If we are always the same

Oh, I fear that no life will ever be like this again Cause your love kept me alive and it made me insane

[shermeral]

Wuthering Heights + Dexter: New Blood S1E1 Cold Snap

[shermeral]

"If she ever saw the real you, she'd never get over it."

That's where Harry failed to see just how much Deb loved Dexter.

[forbiddenblood]

I’ve been rewatching Dexter and it’s literally driving me insane not being able to talk about debster to anyone else !!!! I’m in pain lol

If you’re a fan and want to chat abt all things Dexter hmu 😵‍💫

[sitaxdebster]

[hiyirii72]

To all Debster shippers

Hey everyone! So for some reason my other account (@hiyirii) doesn’t let me reply to posts or get messages atm. So I’m writing this from a new account

I was talking with other fans from the show (and the ship lol) about making a whatsapp, discord or telegram group to discuss the episodes and our thoughts. Would you guys be interested in joining?

If you do which platform would you prefer or are you okay with Any of them? Some of the people had said whatsapp it’s better and I agree but want to know your thoughts

Also taggin some of the blogs I follow but if you’re not tagged and still want to join lmk!

@staubfinger @origami-teacup @hannigram-palace @kimwexlersponytail @bayharbor @eros-heartache @jonotheg @lak27 @sinloi

[shermeral]

This sounds more kinky that it should've

Dexter and Deb Book Quotes, Day 6

"And she poked me again in the same spot. 'Please Deb,' I said. 'You know how easily I bruise.' 'I don't know,' she said. 'But I feel like finding out.'"

[hannigram-palace]

OTP Challenge | 1 gifset per episode
2.6 Dex, Lies, and Videotape

[herefortheships]

My friends, is there a Debster fan video with the song “Take me to Church” by Hozier? Because I think it’d fit them. Tag me if it exists 👀

I just finished my Dexter rewatch and I have all the feelings. 

My rewatch ends on the episode before Hannah is introduced because yeah she totally ruins the show for me. We all know my pet peeve is when a show or book series introduces “really important” new characters near the end. Like, so late in the game I literally can’t buy it when characters fall in love with the new character or when suddenly it’s ALL about this new guy/girl. I simply can’t care about the new character(s) when the show is so close to the end; I just want to see the characters I’ve known and loved throughout the series. Not the new guy/girl. Such bullshit. That’s my biggest pet peeve. lol

[darling-i-read-it]

Red File

Dexter Morgan x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.9k 

Warnings: murder on both the reader and dexters side, cover ups, mentions of crime scenes but nothings too detailed, the reader and dexter are both serial killers, allusions to smut. This is fictional and I obviously don’t condone any of the actions made in this fic 

Author’s Note: i miss him <3 :( 

Summary: Dexter realizes one of the recent crime scenes he’s been set up to investigate is one you, his girlfriend, committed 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Dexter Morgan was a nice man. He brought in donuts in the morning and always remembered everyones favorites. You were fairly certain he did it just to maintain appearances but it was nice regardless. You liked that he had his own little section of blood stuff and you liked that his face went dead when he thought no one was looking. You could only imagine his inner dialogue with the faces he made sometimes. 

Dexter liked you too. He liked that your desk was facing his desk instead of Debs. If it was Debra she would mention every two seconds when he wasn’t doing something. You left notes on the edge of your desk and he left them back where he knew you would see them. It was his only form of communication some days when masking was harder. 

Today he had a sticky note on his desk that said, ‘two lemon filled donuts?’ 

You were writing something back when you decided you wanted those lemon filled donuts now so you just got up. You walked over to him and knocked gently on the desktop. 

“Come on in,” he muttered, face staring at the computer in front of him. You smiled and slid across the floor to where he was sitting. 

“Donuts?” you questioned pleasantly. He nodded, shoving the box towards you. You grabbed a donut and had a bite, wiping the glaze off your lips as you chewed. 

“I saved yours. Why weren’t you here this morning?” 

“Someone kept me up last night. Waiting. Watching out the window. Wondering if he would ever return,” you said wistfully, giving him a look. He leaned back in his chair. 

“You know where I was. I can’t rush that,” he muttered, knowing no one was listening to you two but whispering it anyway. You nodded, swallowing the bite you were chewing. 

“Well I’m much faster than you. You’re too meticulous.” 

“And I haven't been caught, yeah?” “Neither of I!” you whispered. You crossed your arms. 

“You have less of a problem then I do, you know that,” he muttered. He went back to his computer. You sat on his desk, looking down at what he was staring at. There was a profile up on someone you didn’t recognize. No case that you were working on. 

“Who’s that?” 

“A problem,” he muttered. “You’re getting donuts all over my computer.” He handed you a napkin, which you took gratefully. 

“Sorry.” You put the donut down on the napkin. 

“You coming by tonight?” 

“Of course. Are you gonna be there?” 

“Depends,” he muttered. “On if this man goes to the gym tonight.”

“You know Dex, you really are charming.” You brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. He swatted you away but was smiling warmly as you left. You took your donut with you to your desk and went back to your case. You messed with your ring and flicked at the edge of it where there was a speck of red on it. You rubbed it with your thumb until it was gone from the naked eye. You didn’t realize you had been wearing your rings the other night.

Dexter would kill you for that.

Not literally though. 

-

You really loved Dexter’s place. Sometimes when you were on your way you took a detour to the water and hung out around it. Dexter liked to take forever to get places anyway so you usually had time. But that night you decided to go straight up the stairs through the front door, using your key to get in. 

As you suspected, he wasn’t there when you arrived. You didn’t mind. You walked to the kitchen and opened up some cabinets, wondering if you needed to force him to go shopping again. He was a timely guy when he wanted to be. Shopping was never a time he wanted to be. Your phone, which you had placed on the counter, was ringing. You answered it and put it on speaker.

“Heya!”

“Are you at my brother's place?” Deb asked through the phone. You took out a box of Cheez-Its and opened it, trying to determine if they were stale.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, taking a bite. You made a face and threw the box in the trash. Yeah. He definitely needed to go shopping.

“Awesome. Can you do something for me?”

“Depends. What are you offering me?”

“Nothing. Brownie points. I don’t fucking know, aren’t we gonna be sister in laws one day? Shouldn’t we be helping each other out?” You had a mouthful of packaged popcorn. 

“Is Dexter proposing?”

“No. Well not that I know of. Anyway, please.” 

“Yes Deb. What do I need to do?” She breathed out in what seemed to be relief. You looked out the window. The sun was starting to set over the water. 

“Dexter has like, a whole box of paperwork. It should be on his couch or something.” You grabbed your phone and walked over. There was a box of evidence sitting right where she said it would be. You opened it up. 

“I see it.”

“Is there a red file? Like maroon. Fucking red.” You picked up the only red file and opened it up. 

“It is in my hands.”

“Okay awesome. Fucking fantastic. I’m gonna come over and get it.”

“Why?” you asked, opening it up. You held back a gasp. You knew that crime scene. You knew those crime scene pictures. That was your crime scene. Dexter had a file on a crime you committed here and Debra wanted it. 

“I’ve been working on some theories but he’s trying to work this one on his own for some reason. I don’t know why I mean, shit all you know, he’s not even an actual detective. He’s just a blood guy. Not that he couldn’t be a detective I just mean it isn’t his juris-”

“I got it Deb. He’s not here, are you sure you wanna come by?”

“Yeah he won’t mind.”

“I don’t know. You said he was trying to deal with this by himself?” 

“I’ll see you soon!” She hung up the phone. You cursed under your breath. Why hadn’t Dexter told you about this? You sat down on the couch and flipped through the papers, breathing heavily. You didn’t expect to see this crime scene ever again. You had hidden it well. 

The door opened. You stood up, expecting Deb but was more than pleased to see Dexter. He let out a sigh at the sight of you and then froze at the sight of what you were holding. 

“Were you gonna tell me your sister is investigating this?”

“She’s not. I’m burying it.” He shut the door behind him and walked to the vent. He opened it up. He grabbed the box from inside. 

“How the hell did they find it?”

“I don’t know. I told you to dismember-”

“I know you did. I remember the hundreds of conversations we had on the topic. This is not where I left her.” 

“Where did you leave her?”

“In the fucking lake,” you muttered. “Why is she not in the lake?”

“She was found in the woods. I was trying to handle it before you found out. The hope was, you wouldn’t find out,” he said. He put his blood slide in and put the box back. 

“How are you going to bury this?” 

“Things go unsolved every day. Nothing about you was on the body. I just don’t want them investigating.”

“Well your sister-”

There was a knock on the door. You both turned. Dexter carefully put the vent back on the wall. You handed him the file and he walked past you into the bedroom. You opened the door. 

“Hey! Is Dexter back?” Deb asked. You nodded, gesturing to where he walked. He came back quickly, a strained smile on his face. 

“Were you trying to sneak attack me?” he accused. 

“Yes actually. Where’s the files?”

“They aren’t here. She saw the wrong ones,” he explained. Deb let out an annoyed sigh. 

“Stop lying to me. What is with you and this stupid case? It’s just one person, I know, but we still owe it to them-”

“I know that. That’s why I was taking the lead on it.” 

“Come on Dexter.”

“It’s not here.” He shrugged incredulously. She let out an annoyed sigh and leaned on the door, gesturing to the kitchen. 

“You need to go shopping. I’m going back to work and checking your desk.”

“You do that.” 

“It was nice seeing you Y/N!” Deb called as she opened the door. 

“You too!” But the door was already shut. You turned to Dexter. “You do need to go shopping.” He rolled his eyes. 

“That’s what you’re worried about? You could go to jail if she sees anything I don’t.” You scoffed, walking up to him. You put his hands on his upper arms. 

“She won’t. You’re Dexter Morgan. She won’t find something you won't find first.” 

“You have a lot of faith in my eyesight.”

“Cause I like your eyes.” You shrugged. “Thank you for doing all this. I didn’t even know about this and you were already covering me. Thank you.” 

“I like yours too,” he breathed, semi awkwardly. “Your eyes.”

“I figured.” You backed away. “We’re going shopping tomorrow. For food.” 

“I figured,” he repeated. 

“Your shoulders were tense.”

“Odd thing to note considering my girlfriends murder victim was just found and is being investiagted by my sister.”

“I was referring to your night. Was it eventful?” 

“Always.” You walked back to the kitchen and leaned against the counter he followed you. 

“Where’d you put the folder Dex?”

“Under my pillow. Well, it would be your pillow if you wanna sleep over tonight,” he said, standing in front of you. You looked him in the eyes. 

“Only we would chat about bed arrangements after murder.”

“I like it about us. I think it keeps us fresh.” You smiled gently and shrugged. 

“It’s certainly unique.” You kissed him. He hadn’t ever really liked kissing before he met you. Now it was pleasant. He wasn’t obsessed but he certainly never minded when your lips were on his. He put his hand on your hip out of pure instinct. You were comfortable with each other and he always appreciated that. 

“I’m gonna shower,” he muttered against your lips.

“I’m gonna head to bed soon anyway.” He nodded once, kissing you gently and then backing away. His hand lingered on your waist until he was too far away to touch you.  

“Join me?” he mused as he was walking away. 

“Thought you would never ask!”