& again
title: when it comes to my own turn
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
fandom: teen wolf
rating: teen-ish
character(s): Derek
word count: 344
notes: so metaphors tend to get away from me. it started with that first line, Ed Sheeran and suddenly it’s a whole…thing. title snagged from Robert Louis Stevenson. another one down for mini_wrimo.
A sword is never a killer, it is a tool in the killer's hands. - Seneca
Derek has always been a weapon.
Kate’s hands on his back. Her body and her lips and her promises. Pulling him into the shape she wants. Derek bends. Never questions the press of her calloused fingers even as she's seeking out weak spots. She strings him with lies and sets him loose. He flies to his family straight and true. Pierces their hearts. He fletches the rest of his life with fire and loss.
Scott’s hands on his neck. Sharp pinpricks of claws at his jaw, his nape. His teeth tear into skin like wet paper, leave him with a mouthful of blood. Gerard forges his edges. Uses Scott as the hammer, then the anvil. Between them they carve a channel through the tenuous control Derek’s managed for months. It does not make him stronger.
There are too many hands on his shoulders. The twins hold him down. Keep him there with iron grips and immovable stances. Force his claws up and in and through. He feels Boyd’s heart stop beating from the wrong side of his skin. The link joining them beta to alpha - pack - snaps, goes dark. Derek expects to fall when Boyd does, feels like he’s been turned in on himself. He never wanted to be this sharp.
Jennifer tries to hold his hand; he snatches it out of reach. Puts himself behind her, too far away. She’s no different from the rest. She’s kept him under her thumb. Pushed and rewired and tried to fill him with poison. Now she thinks she can unleash him on Deucalion, that she’ll stand outside the blast radius and watch while he tears himself apart for her. Maybe there’ll be enough of him left to try again.
Derek closes his eyes. Remembers the weight of Cora’s hand in his, the rushing drain of power leaving him weak and shaky. He can still feel her fingers at his temple. The warm press of her palm against his forehead. You saved me. He remembers his mother.
It’s time he stopped letting someone else pull the trigger.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
fandom: teen wolf
rating: teen-ish
character(s): Derek
word count: 344
notes: so metaphors tend to get away from me. it started with that first line, Ed Sheeran and suddenly it’s a whole…thing. title snagged from Robert Louis Stevenson. another one down for mini_wrimo.
A sword is never a killer, it is a tool in the killer's hands. - Seneca
Derek has always been a weapon.
Kate’s hands on his back. Her body and her lips and her promises. Pulling him into the shape she wants. Derek bends. Never questions the press of her calloused fingers even as she's seeking out weak spots. She strings him with lies and sets him loose. He flies to his family straight and true. Pierces their hearts. He fletches the rest of his life with fire and loss.
Scott’s hands on his neck. Sharp pinpricks of claws at his jaw, his nape. His teeth tear into skin like wet paper, leave him with a mouthful of blood. Gerard forges his edges. Uses Scott as the hammer, then the anvil. Between them they carve a channel through the tenuous control Derek’s managed for months. It does not make him stronger.
There are too many hands on his shoulders. The twins hold him down. Keep him there with iron grips and immovable stances. Force his claws up and in and through. He feels Boyd’s heart stop beating from the wrong side of his skin. The link joining them beta to alpha - pack - snaps, goes dark. Derek expects to fall when Boyd does, feels like he’s been turned in on himself. He never wanted to be this sharp.
Jennifer tries to hold his hand; he snatches it out of reach. Puts himself behind her, too far away. She’s no different from the rest. She’s kept him under her thumb. Pushed and rewired and tried to fill him with poison. Now she thinks she can unleash him on Deucalion, that she’ll stand outside the blast radius and watch while he tears himself apart for her. Maybe there’ll be enough of him left to try again.
Derek closes his eyes. Remembers the weight of Cora’s hand in his, the rushing drain of power leaving him weak and shaky. He can still feel her fingers at his temple. The warm press of her palm against his forehead. You saved me. He remembers his mother.
It’s time he stopped letting someone else pull the trigger.
- end