like if naruto turned evil he couldnt go to the akatsuki guys he is what theyre looking for. So if he was turned evil i think hed just get away from the world and turn completely feral (i mean he was lowkey feral when he wasnt even evil so it adds up fr)
Hi! You say that you are multifandom right? Do you write something based on "Naruto"? I really like your works 😭❤️
If you do could you write something with Deidara? Something like 'He's criminal from Akatsuki and you are just a simple civilian girl from the village he destroyed but you survived and for some reason he started falling for you and don't want your death'...
I KNOW IT'S A BIT MESSY COMISSION BUT I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS PLOT... I think you could make it in words with sense....😭😭😭
Hellloooo there ☕
Ah, so sweet of you, buddy. I appreciate. I'm glad people like the way I express my art ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
Back to your commission... Sure! I can do that, I guess. I watched Naruto long time ago but Deidara was my favourite character. It's like to see your ex again, you know?
Today's guest is an S rank member of Akatsuki from Iwagakure
Deidara
He's a criminal who destroyed your village to the ground, but he doesn't want to leave you alone.
It always begins with fire.
Not with feelings — with an explosion.
With blinding light, with the earth screaming, with air that tears at the lungs. Deidara doesn’t see faces when he destroys villages. To him, it’s a canvas, a form, a moment. Art is an instant, and an instant doesn’t ask who you are.
But you survived.
He didn’t notice you right away. At first, it was just a strange sensation, as if something among the ashes was out of place. Not hatred, not fear, not curses. You stood there, clutching a dust-stained piece of cloth, looking not at him — but at the sky, as if trying to remember it the way it was before. That struck him. Not sharply, not violently. Quietly. Like a crack in a perfectly calculated explosion.
Deidara never comes back. But that time — he did.
He tells himself it’s curiosity. That you’re an artifact, a remnant left after destruction. That it’s interesting to observe what a person looks like when everything has been taken from them except their life. He convinces himself that if he wanted to, he could erase you with a single snap of his fingers. And that is precisely why he doesn’t.
You don’t scream when you see him again. You don’t have the strength to hate. Everything has already burned away. And that disarms him more than any jutsu ever could.
He talks to you as if you’re not standing on opposite sides of a catastrophe, but simply beside each other. Abrupt, cocky, sometimes almost mocking — but without the cruelty he usually allows himself. You don’t accuse him. You ask questions. And that makes him uncomfortable — he isn’t used to explaining; he’s used to proving.
You don’t justify him. And you don’t curse him. You just keep living, however you can, among the ruins — and somehow that clings to him more tightly than tears ever would.
Deidara is a man of the moment. He lives in the second before the blast, in the beauty of destruction. And you live in the silence after. In the settling smoke. In the ground that is still warm. You are what remains when the art is over. And he doesn’t understand why he can’t look away from you.
He never says the word “love.” For him, it’s too static. Too long-lasting. Instead, he says:
“You’re weird.”
And that is his confession.
He brings you food as if it’s nothing. Leaves protective seals — not for the village, for you. He snaps when you get hurt, because “you can’t be so careless,” even though he knows perfectly well who made the world around you dangerous. His care is rough, clumsy, sometimes almost aggressive — but it’s real.
Sometimes you see guilt in his eyes. He hates that feeling. It gets in the way. It makes the explosions quieter. But he doesn’t drive it away. Because if he does, he’ll have to leave you too.
You are his contradiction. His mistake. His weakness.
He knows he has no right to be near you. That his hands are the same ones that turned your life to ash. And that’s why he keeps a slight distance, never fully allowing himself to touch you, as if he’s afraid that one wrong move — and you’ll crumble, like everything else.
But when you fall asleep, he stays nearby. Watching. Because if the world has already taken everything from you, he won’t let it take the night as well.
Deidara will never promise a future. He doesn’t know how to deal in “later.” His love is here and now: protection, the choice not to press, not to detonate, not to leave. Every day is a new refusal of his own nature — for you.
