#anti Taryn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hrizantemy · 12 hours ago

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Nesta hadn’t expected to notice so much about Taryn. It wasn’t in her nature to observe people in such detail, to catalog the small things about them, but Taryn… Taryn made it impossible not to. She didn’t know when it started, when her gaze lingered just a little too long, when her mind began picking apart every nuance of Taryn’s presence, but now she couldn’t stop.

There was the way Taryn smiled—never too wide, but just enough that her eyes crinkled at the corners, like she was holding back something bigger. It made Nesta wonder what kind of laughter Taryn saved for when no one was looking, what kind of joy she kept just for herself. That smile was bright but never blinding, warm but never overbearing. It was a smile that drew people in without demanding anything from themselves.

Her voice was another thing. Low and even, the kind of tone that calmed rather than commanded. It was soothing, soft as the sound of pages turning in a quiet room. Taryn never raised her voice, never snapped or barked an order, but there was a firmness in the way she spoke that made people listen. It wasn’t authority—it was trust. People trusted her voice, her steadiness, and Nesta wondered when she had started to as well.

And then there were the small, unintentional things. The way Taryn tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought. The way her nose wrinkled when she didn’t agree with something but didn’t want to say it outright. The way she fiddled with the rings on her fingers when she was nervous, spinning them endlessly until she found her composure again. Nesta noticed it all, these tiny, fleeting moments that seemed insignificant but somehow weren’t.

Taryn had a way of carrying herself that spoke of quiet strength. She wasn’t the tallest, wasn’t the loudest, but there was a steadiness to her presence that anchored everything around her. Even when she was rushing out the door, hair a little messy, coat thrown on haphazardly, she still seemed composed in a way Nesta envied. There was something magnetic about her, something that Nesta didn’t fully understand but couldn’t help being drawn to.

And her scent—Nesta hated how much she noticed it. Taryn smelled faintly of lavender and something earthy, like freshly turned soil. It wasn’t perfume, at least not entirely, but something natural, something intrinsically her. It clung to her clothes and lingered in the air after she left a room, a subtle reminder of her presence that Nesta found herself searching for more often than she cared to admit.

It wasn’t just how Taryn looked or sounded or smelled, though. It was the way she existed, the way she made space for others without shrinking herself. The way she moved through the world as if she belonged in it, and yet still found ways to carve out room for people like Nesta, people who didn’t quite know where they fit. Taryn made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t before, and Nesta was starting to realize how much she liked that. How much she liked her.

Most of all, Nesta noticed how Taryn didn’t like when she brought up her sisters. Taryn never said it outright, never stopped her from talking or tried to steer the conversation in another direction, but there was a shift every time. A tightness in her jaw, the faintest flicker in her gaze, like she was forcing herself not to react. The first time, Nesta thought she’d imagined it. The second time, she wondered if she was projecting her own discomfort. But after the third, the fourth, the fifth time, Nesta began to see the pattern.

It wasn’t dramatic, nothing obvious—Taryn didn’t glare or sigh or tell her to stop. No, it was subtler than that. Her hands would fidget more than usual, her responses would grow clipped, and sometimes she’d stare into her tea like it held an answer she couldn’t quite find. It was almost as if Taryn was trying to seem unaffected, trying to be supportive, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Nesta, ever curious and prone to pushing, began testing her theory. She’d bring up Feyre or Elain in casual conversation, slipping their names into anecdotes or comments just to see. Every time, Taryn’s posture would stiffen, her shoulders drawing ever so slightly inward, as though the mention of them carried a weight she wasn’t prepared to hold. She never snapped, never told Nesta to stop, but the shift was unmistakable.

At first, Nesta thought Taryn disliked her sisters outright, though that didn’t quite sit right. Taryn wasn’t the type to hate someone without reason—at least, not from what Nesta had seen. Maybe it was something else entirely, something more complicated. But what? Taryn had never met Feyre or Elain properly, not beyond a polite greeting at solstice, and yet there was something there, something unresolved and heavy.

It gnawed at Nesta more than she wanted to admit. She’d never cared much for what people thought of her sisters—too many people had opinions about them already. But with Taryn, it was different. She wanted to know why. Why the mention of them brought that subtle tension to Taryn’s frame. Why her eyes would cloud, just for a moment, before she schooled her expression into something neutral.

The question slipped out before Nesta could think better of it. “Do you dislike my sisters?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room.

Taryn was mid-sip of her tea, the porcelain cup poised delicately between her fingers, when the words landed. She blinked, raising an eyebrow as if Nesta had asked her something absurd. Slowly, she lowered the cup to the table, her movements measured, almost too controlled. “Of course not,” she said evenly, her tone steady, but not without a trace of something else—a note Nesta couldn’t quite place.

“Liar,” Nesta said immediately, her gaze fixed on Taryn’s face, searching for cracks in her composure.

Taryn didn’t flinch, but her lips tightened just enough for Nesta to notice. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “I don’t dislike them,” Taryn said after a moment, her words slower now, more careful. “I don’t know them well enough to feel anything that strong.”

Nesta tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not an answer,” she said coolly, folding her own arms in response. She could feel her pulse quicken, not out of anger but curiosity—curiosity sharpened by years of mistrust and a need to understand. “You tense up every time I mention them. You get quiet, avoid looking at me. So, if it’s not dislike, what is it?”

Taryn sighed, a long and drawn-out exhale as if the weight of Nesta’s persistence pressed on her. She reached for her tea again but didn’t drink it, just held the cup between her hands, staring down at the steam as though it might give her the words she needed. “It’s not about them,” she said finally, her voice softer this time, almost tentative. “It’s… complicated.”

Nesta snorted, the sound harsh in the stillness. “Everything’s complicated,” she said flatly. “Try harder.”

That earned her a sharp glance, but Taryn didn’t snap back, didn’t argue. Instead, she put the cup down again and pressed her palms against the table. “Fine,” she said, meeting Nesta’s gaze head-on now. There was something raw in her eyes, something unguarded that made Nesta sit up straighter. “I don’t dislike your sisters, Nesta. But when you talk about them… it’s hard not to see how much it still affects you. How much of your life still seems to orbit around them, even now.”

That caught Nesta off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, to deny it, but no words came. Taryn pressed on, her tone gentler but no less firm. “And maybe,” she added, “there’s a part of me that doesn’t understand how they could let you feel like you were never enough. That doesn’t understand how they could sit by and let you carry so much alone. So, no, I don’t dislike them. But I’m angry for you in ways I know I probably don’t have the right to be.”

For a moment, Nesta didn’t move, didn’t speak. She felt like Taryn had stripped something bare inside her, laid it out between them for inspection. She hadn’t expected that answer, hadn’t expected to feel a tightness in her chest at the quiet conviction in Taryn’s words. “You think they’re the reason I am the way I am,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.

“I think they’re a part of it,” Taryn said, her gaze steady. “And I think you’re still figuring out how to be you without them defining every piece of it. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a damn good job of it.”

Nesta swallowed hard, looking away, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt. She didn’t know what to say, what to feel. So she settled for silence, letting Taryn’s words hang in the air, heavy but not unwelcome.

Nesta leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded Taryn with a sharp gaze. The weight of Taryn’s words lingered, and she didn’t know if it was anger or confusion curling in her stomach. Maybe it was both. “Then why did you agree to go to Solstice?” she asked, her voice quiet but edged with something brittle. “Why didn’t you say anything if you felt that way? If it made you angry?”

Taryn’s expression softened, but there was no hesitance when she answered. “Because it wasn’t about me,” she said simply, her tone calm and unwavering. “My feelings don’t matter when it comes to this. Not when it’s about your family and your choice to see them. Solstice isn’t about how I feel. It’s about you and what you needed to do, even if it was hard.”

Nesta blinked, startled by the simplicity of the response. She had expected defensiveness, maybe even irritation—something to latch onto and push back against. Instead, Taryn met her confusion with clarity, as though the answer had always been obvious.

Taryn leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table, her hands clasped loosely together. “It’s not my place to stand in the way of you making peace with them,” she continued, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “Even if I don’t understand all the history or all the pain, I know it’s there. And if being at Solstice was what you thought you needed—if it was your way of trying, of healing—then my feelings didn’t matter. I went because it mattered to you.”

Nesta stared at her, unable to speak for a moment as the words settled. She didn’t know what to do with them, with the sudden understanding that Taryn had always been so careful, so steady, even when Nesta herself had been unsure. “You didn’t say anything,” Nesta murmured, more to herself than to Taryn. Her hands tightened in her lap. “You should’ve said something.”

Taryn smiled faintly, a small, bittersweet curve of her lips. “Would it have changed anything?” she asked gently. “Would you have stayed home if I said I didn’t want to go?”

Nesta opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat because she knew the answer. No, she wouldn’t have stayed. She would’ve gone anyway, because it wasn’t about Taryn’s feelings—it wasn’t even entirely about her sisters. It was about proving something to herself, about trying, about making some semblance of an effort. And Taryn had known that, had seen it, and had chosen not to stand in her way.

“I hate how calm you are about this,” Nesta muttered, looking away, feeling something uncomfortable and warm twisting in her chest.

Taryn’s soft laugh broke the tension, lightening the air between them. “I know,” she said, not unkindly.

For once, Nesta didn’t have a biting remark ready. She just nodded, her throat feeling strangely tight as she reached for her tea.

Nesta fiddled with the handle of her mug, her fingers tracing the edges absently, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her tea. The warmth seemed to settle into her, but it couldn’t ease the unease curling in her chest. She hadn’t been able to shake it all day. There were things she needed to say, things she needed to work through, and Taryn’s steady presence was the only thing grounding her.

“I think I made up with Feyre,” she said quietly, as though speaking the words out loud would make them more real. “We talked. We forgave each other. It wasn’t perfect, but I think… it was a step. It feels like a start.” She paused, trying to understand the strange sense of calm that had settled in her heart after their conversation. It was the first time in a long time that Nesta felt as though she had done something right—something real—when it came to her sisters. But even with that, there was still a part of her that wasn’t sure it would last. The damage ran deep.

Her fingers tightened around the mug as her mind shifted to Elain. Her heart twisted at the thought of her sister, the distance between them, the unspoken words. She looked up at Taryn, her gaze lingering on her for a moment, almost as if trying to gauge how to say what was next.

“Elain, though,” Nesta muttered, the weight of her thoughts heavy in her voice. “I don’t know where I stand with her. Things are… complicated. It’s like we’re strangers, even when we’re in the same room. I know it’s partly my fault. I pushed her away, didn’t I? I didn’t know how to handle her… I didn’t know how to handle any of it, and I guess I was just angry. I’m still angry, but she’s… she’s different. She’s so different from me.”

The words felt clumsy, unformed, but they were all she had. Elain’s quiet sweetness, her gentleness—it was almost too much for Nesta to take in, too much for her to understand, and it had pushed her further away. The thought that her sister had gone through so much, that she had her own pain, just as Nesta did, but somehow it hadn’t drawn them closer—it hurt in a way that Nesta didn’t know how to express.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” Nesta admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Taryn was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant as she seemed to be weighing her words carefully. She looked at Nesta, her expression thoughtful, like she was piecing together something fragile. Her fingers gently curled around her tea cup, her eyes softening as she met Nesta’s gaze.

“You know,” Taryn began slowly, her voice measured but kind, “that is a step, wanting to try. It may not feel like much, but it is. And sometimes, those small steps, those quiet ones—those matter the most.” She let out a small breath, looking down at her hands, before continuing. “I don’t have sisters, so I can’t say for sure what you’re supposed to do, what’s right for you and Elain. But from what I’ve seen in the way you’ve handled things with Feyre, I think… you’re doing the right thing. It’s not about rushing in, or forcing things, or trying to fix everything all at once. It’s about the small things. Setting boundaries. Being open when you’re ready. I think that’s a start.”

Taryn took a long sip of her tea, her eyes studying Nesta intently, as though trying to understand her on a deeper level. “You’ve made progress, Nesta,” she said quietly, her words steady, almost like a promise. “It’s okay that things aren’t fixed yet. I think… being willing to try, to open yourself to the possibility of change, is the most important thing. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Not with your sisters. Not with yourself. Just… one step at a time.”

For the first time in a long while, Nesta felt something other than the overwhelming weight of guilt or the tightening of old wounds. Taryn’s words hung in the air, a quiet reassurance. She wasn’t rushing her. She wasn’t telling her to force the healing, to push forward when she wasn’t ready. She was simply offering support, letting Nesta know that it was okay to take the time she needed, to go at her own pace.

And for Nesta, that felt like enough. Maybe that, too, was a step forward.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She leaned back slightly, studying Taryn as she took another sip of her tea. “I don’t know much about your family,” Nesta remarked casually, her voice light but laced with genuine interest. She could feel the faint stir of her own discomfort as she realized how little she actually knew about the woman she had come to care for. “Why is that?”

Taryn didn’t immediately answer, her eyes flickering to the window for a brief moment before she set her cup down on the table. Her shoulders gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug as she met Nesta’s gaze. “Because I never told you,” she said simply, her tone soft but matter-of-fact.

Nesta’s gaze sharpened. “But… why not?” She had to ask, the question rolling off her tongue without hesitation. She had always been open with Taryn, shared pieces of herself, however broken they might have been. It was strange to think that Taryn might be holding back from her, keeping something guarded, especially when they had gotten closer in so many other ways.

Taryn leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest as she sighed lightly. “Because there’s nothing to tell,” she answered after a beat, her voice quiet, almost distant. “My family… they’re not really a part of my life. I’m not close with them, never have been. There’s no need to talk about them, Nesta. It’s just easier that way.”

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between them. Nesta felt a flicker of understanding deep within her. She didn’t need Taryn to explain any further. She could sense there was more to the story, but it wasn’t something Taryn was ready to share. And for the first time, Nesta recognized the boundaries that Taryn had set around herself.

It was a strange, quiet thing—knowing that Taryn had her own walls, just like Nesta did. But for some reason, Nesta didn’t feel upset by it. She just felt… something. Maybe a quiet kind of acceptance. Something unsaid but understood, just between the two of them.

Nesta tilted her head, the words lingering in the air for a moment before she asked quietly, “Would you tell me? About your family, I mean. If you’re ready.”

Taryn was quiet for a long while, and Nesta almost thought she wouldn’t respond. But then, with a small sigh, Taryn set her tea down once again, her fingers tracing the edge of the cup as she looked at Nesta with a faint, unreadable expression. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “I’ll tell you, if you really want to know.”

Nesta nodded, her curiosity still simmering, but her tone gentle, not pushing, simply waiting. “I do.”

Taryn’s gaze seemed to drift for a moment, her thoughts far away. Then, finally, she spoke. “They’re from the Dawn Court,” she began, her words slow, almost measured. “My mother was a healer. She helped people, mostly with potions and remedies—things that kept the court running smoothly. My father… he was a soldier, but I don’t really remember much about him. He left when I was young.”

Nesta listened quietly, sensing the weight of the words between the lines. Taryn spoke with a sense of detachment, as if the memories weren’t painful, but simply distant and faded with time. She didn’t press for more; Taryn had given her a piece, and Nesta understood that it was more than enough for now.

“They lived… fairly normal lives,” Taryn continued, her voice a bit lighter now. “We had a house, a garden, the kind of life that doesn’t really stand out. Nothing grand. Just… ordinary. It wasn’t a bad life, but it wasn’t anything special either. We were just… there.”

There was a pause, and Nesta felt a subtle sadness in Taryn’s words, a quiet yearning for something that had been lost. But Taryn didn’t linger on it, didn’t indulge in what-ifs or the could-have-beens. Instead, she met Nesta’s gaze with an expression that was as calm as it was firm.

“That’s all there is, really. It’s not much, and there’s not much more to say about it.”

Nesta sat back, taking it all in, realizing that this was Taryn’s way of showing trust. It wasn’t grand or dramatic, but it was enough for Nesta to understand a bit more about her—about her past, her life before, and maybe, in some strange way, who Taryn was.

Nesta could feel it, the subtle tension in Taryn’s words and the quiet way she held herself back, but she didn’t point it out. There were things that Taryn wasn’t saying, things Nesta could sense but had no desire to pry into just yet. Instead, she took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the warmth as the silence stretched between them.

Finally, after a moment of contemplation, Nesta asked softly, “Would you go with me? If I went to see my sisters?”

Taryn’s gaze flickered, a slight hesitation in her eyes, but then she gave a small, genuine smile, the kind that made Nesta’s heart skip a beat. “I want to be there,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “If it means that much to you, of course I’ll go.”

Nesta’s smile deepened, a warmth spreading through her chest. It was more than just Taryn’s words; it was the fact that Taryn was offering herself—her presence—without hesitation, supporting Nesta in a way that felt natural, without making her feel like a burden or an afterthought. It was different from everything she had known before, and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

“I’ve received a letter,” Nesta said quietly, her voice lighter now. She met Taryn’s gaze with a glint of something soft in her eyes. “From Feyre. She invited me to the House of Wind. And… I’ve accepted.”

Tag list: @litnerdwrites

#anti acosf #anti acotar #anti feysand #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #nesta archeron deserves better #pro nesta #anti azriel #anti cassian #anti amren #anti nessian #anti morrigan #anti night court #sapphic nesta #my power went out guys so ummmm i am not winning clearly #taryn is though because nesta is a baddie

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depressedhatakekakashi · 6 months ago

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Losing My Cool

Scene Rewrites/Taryn's Birthday Celebration 2024

Prompt: Kakashi scolds Sakura for her plan to kill Sasuke

Words: 1,450

For: ME Cuz it's my birthday and I wanted to treat myself <3 also @mintehz who loves to see Kakashi lose his cool like me XD

In all his years, Kakashi had never experienced such unrelenting rage. He’d never looked at a situation in front of him and felt himself slowly losing control of his composure.

Emotions were something Kakashi prided himself on having control over. He was a calculated, composed shinobi capable of dealing with any situation that he faced. At least, he was.

Today that had changed.

When Sai had first told him and Tenzo of Sakura’s plan’s to go after Sasuke he’d been upset by her disregard of his and, more importantly, Naruto’s efforts to save Sasuke from the judgement placed onto him by the Raikage and so many others.

That feeling had been manageable, though. All he had to do was chase after Sakura and stop her from doing something stupid. That he could handle.

What he couldn’t handle was what he found on the way to stop Sakura.

The three unconscious bodies of Lee, Sai and Kiba laying in the middle of the road with Sakura no where in sight.

His blood had begun to boil when he’d realized what Sakura had done to her teammates. Her friends.

The people who had risked sever punishment by accompanying her out of the village during a five Kage summit just so she could lie about her feelings to Naruto’s face and run off on a half-cocked mission to kill Sasuke.

He wanted to stay and ensure that the three were safe until they woke up, but he didn’t have time. Stopping Sakura was his top priority.

If he’d known the lengths, she would go to achieve her mission he never would have left Tenzo and Naruto behind, but as it was all he could do was move the three to the side and apologize for being unable to do more.

Once all three of them were off the road he continued on his path to locate and stop Sakura, but he was no longer calm about his mission. He was furious. Burning with an anger he wasn’t used to.

The anger only flared more when he finally saw Sakura.

Still, he did what he had to and moved himself in front of her just as Sasuke went in for the attack, shoving his hand away as he bared his Kunai toward him. When Sasuke tried to trip him he made an effortless jump over the leg and twisted himself around, kicking out and connecting his foot with Sasuke’s chest.

With that hit Sasuke went flying back, creating distance between him and Kakashi.

“You really meant to kill her,” he sighed, the realization of Sasuke’s attack sinking in. He knew Sakura was there on a mission to kill Sasuke, but when he’d arrived, she had her back turned to him.

Her intention was not clear. Sasuke had simply chosen to attack her while her back was exposed to him.

“And what are you going to do about that?” Sasuke sneered. “Are you going to admonish me?”

Thinking about it, Kakashi shook his head. “You, I will deal with later,” he promised before turning away from Sasuke, leaving him staring at his back while he focused on Sakura. “you, though.”

“Sensai, I-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled, the anger he’d tried so hard to control finally boiling over. “Were you even thinking when you came up with this plan? Did you use that big brain of yours to pause and contemplate this plan?”

“I-“

“No, you weren’t,” he cut her off, uninterested in the excuses she might try to give him. “Not only are you going after Sasuke while Naruto is out here begging the Raikage to spare his life, but you put your friends at risk in order to go through with this stupid plan!”

Sakura winced. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to put them in danger.”

“In danger?” Kakashi sputtered. “So instead of convincing them to go along on this half-brained scheme of yours and having at least a little back-up or doing the smart thing and not going after Sasuke at all, you decided that it would be smart to knock your friends out and leave their unconscious bodies in the middle of the road for anyone to find!?”

“If I brought them here they would still be in danger!”

“But at least they would be able to defend themselves!” watching as she recoiled away from him, he growled. “I haven’t been able to teach you a lot, and I failed to keep the team together when it was falling apart, but the one lesson I wanted all of you to learn was team work.”

“I know that, Sensei.”

“Then tell me why, if you know, that you would go out of your way to disregard that one lesson and put your teammates in danger!?”

Silence fell over them as Sakura stood there, her eyes now focused on the ground between her feet and her mouth firmly shut. Keeping any rebuttals or arguments she may have left in her to herself.

“You’re benched,” he declared, finally turning his back to her with that final, official order.

“You can’t!” She argued. “The only one who can bench a shinobi is-“

“The Hokage,” he confirmed. “And as Danzo was officially removed from the position by a vote of no confidence from the other Four Kage, and likely wouldn’t have made it through the Jonin’s vote had he made it back to Konoha, we need a Hokage to lead the village. At this moment, with the confidence of the other four Kage’s, that is me.”

An unfortunate situation to find himself in, but there were little other options. Danzo getting into the position had already been a grave mistake. If the only way to prevent a similar mistake from being made with someone else was to step up and take the position himself, then that was what he would do.

“But Sensei,”

“As the Hokage I will not have Shinobi under my command who willfully put their teammates at risk,” staring forward, he watched as Sasuke examined the situation. So far, he’d said nothing, simply standing back and allowing Kakashi to scold Sakura. How long that patience would last, he wasn’t sure, and if he didn’t deal with the situation at hand things were likely to spiral out of his control. “Now, Sasuke,”

“Got a lecture for me too, Sensei?” Sarcasm dripped in his old student’s voice when he used the honorific. A respect Kakashi had never expected from Sasuke, or anyone else, and which Sasuke clearly had no intention of ever truly extending to him.

“No,” he sighed. “I am…disappointed. I never thought you would have fallen so far as to attack someone from behind.”

“You knew she was here to kill me, did you not?”

“I did,” his eyes darted back toward Sakura who was now simply standing there continuing to stare at the ground like a scolded child. “But she wasn’t attacking her, and you didn’t know until I showed up, did you?”

“Does it matter?”

Sighing, he shifted his weight slightly, so he was better prepared for an attack. Just in case.

“I don’t want a fight, Sasuke,” he insisted. “I’m here to get Sakura and leave.”

“I killed your Hokage,” stepping off to the side, Sasuke gestured to a pool of blood behind him. A pool that Kakashi could only assume, based on Sasuke’s words, had once been Danzo.

“I’m not going to cry over him,” he shrugged. “he was a terrible person, and…” thinking back to what Madara had said earlier, he sighed. “I’m still not sure of how much I was told is true, but I don’t find it very hard to believe that Danzo did manipulate Itachi.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I want to find out the truth,” he continued. “I need to know what really happened. If what Madara said is true, and what I and Konoha can do about that. But to do that-“

“Shut up…”

“I don’t want to fight.”

Hearing the words once again, Sasuke began to laugh. He threw his head back, eyes staring up at the sky as he laughed louder and harder. “You don’t want to fight me?” he taunted lowering his head and staring at Kakashi with cold, angry eyes. “But I’m itching to kill you, Kakashi.”

“I see,” sighing, Kakashi stared at the boy in front of him, the student he’d failed to save, and wondered to himself if he could really take on the burden of killing Sasuke. It wasn’t the path he wanted to take, but if he had to fight to protect himself he would.

Even if it meant killing someone he still wanted so badly to save.

#hatake kakashi #haruno sakura #This is not Anti-Sakura #We don't do this on this here blog #this is 'sakura did a dumb thing that goes directly against Kakashi's core believes and kishi did a diservice not letting kakashi be angry'#Scene rewrite #Taryn's Birthday Celebration 2024

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