#sasodei au

[h2opop]

Another @sasodeiweek 2025 piece. I don’t have time to finish the sketch so here’s my really fast WIP for today’s prompt of Sweets/Home.

I really love the idea of Deidara being a fantastic cook or baker in an AU setting.

[ah-kasuna]

Halloween/magical SasoDei AU incoming ( ͡°⁄ ⁄ ͜⁄ ⁄ʖ⁄ ⁄ ͡°) w8 for it

[labradoriteprince]

Locket (Crumb)

  Y’all be nice i haven’t written in like 3 years but this is just an intro to the au I am working on

“Okay Mr.Iwa, you're all good to go. Remember, physical therapy starts next Tuesday and you’ll be attending two days a week until your physical therapist decides you’ve come far enough to move down to once a week, then biweekly, and so on.” The doctor went down the checklist. 

Deidara nodded along, staring down at the black and silver replacement for his left arm. He had lost the appendage in an accident at work in which his coworker had dropped a pallet from the sky shelves. Not that it was actually Gaara’s fault. The pallet was old anyways and the bottom planks decided to give. Deidara was lucky enough that only his arm was irreparable. His chest and ribs had recovered with minimal scarring. He had gotten a permanent leave, along with worker’s compensation and a lawsuit on the company for the faulty and dangerous work setting.  

“Thank you” Deidara smiled as he got up. “See you next week, Dr.Senju.” He smiled as he headed out. He could already tell it was going to be weird trying to get used to his new arm.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Deidara stood outside the coffee shop, his nerves a little out of hand… Literally. Today was his first full day with his prosthetic arm. He had been without his left arm for almost a year, but he had to wait until he could actually invest in the device, given how expensive it was. He always came to this shop. And every Monday through Thursday the same red head was always working. A short, stoic man with bored brown eyes and… well, quite frankly, no visible personality. With a heavy sigh, Deidara headed through the door and into the line. They weren’t super busy today, given it was nine am on a Tuesday, but there was a lady ahead of him in line with her son holding tightly to her hand, ogling and drooling over the brownies and muffins.

The kid quickly let go of his mom’s hand, to run up and shove his hands up against the glass. The barista’s gaze moved to the kid, his lip curling the slightest bit at the greasy hand prints being dragged down the glass case. Oh boy, Deidara was definitely going to annoy him today. He was already having a morning. The blonde could tell.

Once the woman ordered and stepped aside, it was Deidara’s turn. He stepped up to the counter, looking over the menu to buy time, like he didn’t always order the same thing. 

“Are you not ordering the usual?” The  barista asked. Deidara looked over at him.

“No- I am, I just wasn’t sure” He assured the man. “Latte with four shots espresso.” He assured him.

“I know what you take.” The redhead turned around to the machines in the back. “I’ll make it. Last time Konan left out the extra shots.” Sasori grabbed the Styrofoam cup. Deidara noticed he had upsized the drink, a sweet gesture though it made him more nervous. 

Once the barista finished the drink, he held it out for Deidara to take. "Its on the house. Congratulations on your arm." 

Deidara smiled, carefully reaching for the cup. All was going well so far.. he just had to grip the cup. 

By now, Sasori could see where this was going, locked in eye contact with Deidara, almost daring him to-

The cup broke when Deidara went to grab it, spewing scalding hot coffee all over the counter and floor. The redhead's eyes narrowed. "Konan, can I get your help cleaning this up. I need to remake a drink. " he sighed, grumbling to himself as he turned around to remake Deidara's latte. 

"Sorry" The blonde apologized, embarrassed by the mess he had made. "I just wanted to practice grabbing things." He explained.

"Well, practice outside of my store." The redhead countered. 

"Sasori-" Konan shot her coworker a glare. So that was his name.

"Well, he made a mess." Sasori muttered. He came back to the counter, handing the blonde a new cup. "Use your right hand this time." 

“Yes sir, sorry again.” Deidara quickly apologized as he headed out of the cafe. Well, that was humiliating. He took a sip of coffee and scrunched up his nose. Oh that petty bitch, this was so much more than 4 espresso shots. He couldn’t be too upset. It was a free coffee, and he did just make a mess. 

He was just desperate to be back to his full potential again. The past year he’s just felt like a burden, not able to move his own furniture when he moved into his new apartment, or having to relearn how to drive, cook, and everything. For a while there, he had to have his old roommate help him put his hair up. Neji always did, though. Even though they both knew he had better things to do. 

Once Deidara got home, he sat his cup on the coffee table, before pulling out his phone. Sasori… hmm. That was an uncommon enough name. He should be able to find him. He logged onto Facebook, typing the redhead’s name into the search bar. It wasn’t long before he found the barista. Sasori Akasuna. The blonde clicked on his profile, scrolling through. He only had a handful of friends, including the coworker from earlier. Though, the only person who seemed to be tagging him in anything was a little old woman who, obviously, was newer to Facebook. Sasori’s entire timeline was full of outdated memes, posts about tagging loved ones, and random ‘I love my grandson’ posts, all of which were from this same woman, Chiyo Akasuna.

Huh, well, it was safe to assume Chiyo was his Grandmother. It was also probably safe to say they were close. Or at least seemed to be. Deidara scrolled all the way back to the top of the page, sending a friend request. He plopped his phone down on the coffee table as well, before looking at his arm. He slowly opened and closed his prosthetic hand, watching the fingers curl up, then open, then repeat. He smiled faintly, before laying back onto the couch. It wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and started to fall asleep. It was a good thing he hadn’t really drank his latte after discovering how bitter it was. Otherwise he’d be too awake to nap.  

Once the blonde did wake up, he picked up his phone to check the time. It was about a quarter to five and he’d been sleeping since almost eleven. “Way to go, Deidara. Way to waste a day” He lectured himself as he got up. He noticed he had a Facebook notification and opened it. It was a message. 

“How in the hell did you find me?

Why did you find me?”

How was Deidara supposed to respond? Lie? Yeah- lying is good. 

“You were in my suggested friends list.”

It was almost an immediate reply.

“Right, with no mutuals and no idea what my name was before now. 

This is almost obsessive. You come in everyday at the same time, 

Constantly you're in my shop to just kill time, and now coincidentally, “

“You’ve found my Facebook.”

Oh man, this was taking a bad turn, and fast. 

“No, look, really. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to see 

Who you were. Not in a creepy way, though. Really.” 

“Right

I’m blocking you.”

Oh shit. Deidara messed up. Now how was he supposed to show his face at the cafe? He groaned and tossed the phone down. 

Well... Fuck.

[hanarto]

So my SasoDei fanfic just reached 3+K votes on Wattpad and I am so moved asjfbasudvfuayskdvkasd I had to celebrate it with a little cute fanart 

It’s modern Art School AU, the 1st translated to english part you can find here -> ♥

[ah-kasuna]

Title: "Puppetry in a Nutshell" Pairing: SasoDei AU: Modern, Fine Arts Academy of Tokio Summary: An ambitious student of the Academy of Fine Arts, Deidara, from one lecture to another gets under the skin of the most apathetic university professor - Sasori Akasuna. The professor, in turn, puts one by one 0s in his favs student's index, constantly trying to dissuade him from the distorted concept of art that the blonde delivers at class of puppetry. Irritated and broken, Deidara inadvertently makes a mistake, which becomes the reason of close - way too close - clash with the professor.♥

LINKS TO PARTS WILL BE SHARED BELOW AS I UPDATE THEM! ~(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄~ )

[ah-kasuna]

It was stronger than me, so enjoy my made by this editor SasoDei fantasy AU VampSori, acting angelic in purpose of being allowed to exchange his coffin for SorcDara’s bed at least for one night.

Bonus SorcDara about to be break, but anytime ready to exorcise him.

[ah-kasuna]

Puppetry in a Nutshell // ♥ I ♥

Pairing: SasoDei

AU: Art School

THIS IS THE 1ST PART AND MY VERY 1ST TRANSLATION ;_; I ain’t native speaker, so there will be mistakes I think, so please let me know about them, so I could fix em! Tbh it feels like doin it with the blindfold on, so XD Yeah, forgive me anyway. 

I hope you’ll like it!♥ Let me know what you think please! Love ya!

AND I DEDICATE IT TO @deidaraakasuna, U KNOW WHY♥♥♥

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Geidai.

The world-famous Fine Arts Academy, located in one of the most charming corners of Tokyo. 

A place that growing artists dream about, perceiving it as a mystical land of inspiration and creativity (until they see sculpture students playing with their own Pony ponies). 

The university to get to is a high-class feat, usually drenched in liters of alcohol and liters of tears in a later hangover. After all, who wouldn't get drunk on this occasion? 

I smiled at the vague memories as I unpacked my breakfast and shook my head fondly. Basically, this sentimental feeling of being an old woman with a bunch of grandchildren has accompanied me since the beginning of my sophomore year, when I watched the freshmen roaming the corridors in sweet ignorance of their fate. Fortunately or not, this intoxicating state faded into non-existent at the end of the first semester as the session approached. And it just so happened that it was just approaching, breaking the will to fight along the way and magically depriving the students of creative inspiration, the one necessary - as you can easily guess - to pass half a year at a group of charming leaders.

My gloomy eyes followed the classroom. Outside the corridor window, visible through the open door, a bird chirped merrily. The weather was beautiful - a typical Japanese spring. The cherries were blooming, scattering fragrant white-pink petals around, and I was rotting at the epicenter of All Evil, like a condemned man aware of what was about to happen. And which happened cyclically twice a week, because my goddamn ambition pushed me to apply for this equally damned university. And so I redeemed my sins before I died, regretting abandoning the idea of ​​self-improvement in the privacy of my modest (but equipped with a kettle and toaster!) Apartment. What more could you want?

I shoved a huge piece of bread in my mouth, which I chewed for five minutes before he graciously wanted to squeeze through my esophagus. A dry mouth like this meant only one thing: my brain finally picked up the information that puppetry classes were about to begin. For my despairing amusement, everyone was rushing to their seats, with shaking hands shoving paints, chisels, and the rest of the necessary utensils out of their bags, as if someone's life depended on the speed of their perfect arrangement on the table. I felt a sudden urge to laugh out loud.

If asked about the reason why the very thought of puppetry gave the vast majority of students sudden symptoms of delirium and depression, the answer would be simple, concise, and more eloquent than the potency pill ads: Hell Cerberus aka Sasori Akasuna. Officially - a lecturer in a terribly heavy and hated subject; in fact - the walking essence of the deepest pits of hell. What was it about him that wherever he went - everyone immediately cut off discussions and silly games? Well, the puppetry professor not only carefully nurtured the art of being laconic, cynical and ruthless. He was devilishly intelligent, even more talented and vindictive and possesive a tons of sophisticated sarcasm, which he liked to apply with the greatest pleasure to me. 

The bell rang. Everyone but me jumped up immediately and Akasuna entered the classroom. As always: in a perfectly matched shirt, elegant pants, a perfectly knotted tie and an equally perfect boredom on the face.

I reluctantly swallowed the rest of my bun, limiting myself to lazily lifting my ass off the chair and making a painful expression. Anyway, I was a loser at the outset, so I saw no point in putting on a similar play as the others, which only maked him sastisfied more. I clenched my fists automatically. Not this time, man!

The professor walked slowly towards the cathedral by stairs, giving the impression of a man who  scrupulously and deeply don't care for this worldly place and time. And perhaps I would even fall for his 'dun-give-a-shit' play, if I had not been marked by his hatred from the very first class. And yet, it's not like I did something to him, oh no. I was simply not susceptible to his mental puppet strings, so I stubbornly disagreed with him on the essence of the art. For him, the highest dimension of beauty were - horror of horrors - goofy make-uped puppets; for me, the art was much less crude carving in plastic materials, where every little movement could fix or spoil everything. And the wood? It was too patient, too tough, hard to work with, unresponsive to the tender touch of trained hands, and it had splinters ...

Everything happened according to the established order. Akasuna checked the attendance, gave an excruciatingly boring spiel about our laziness and talentlessness (noting that exams were coming up), and then had everyone make an individual puppet design. I groaned woefully like the rest of them, reluctantly reaching into my bag for a sketchbook and a set of pencils.

I loved nothing so much as wasting my time gouging dolls. To my left, a class idiot Tobi, wrapped in an orange and black scarf almost under his nose, looked at me as if I was a revelation of heavens.

"Don't even try," I said, feeling what was happening." We'll be kicked out both."

The guy made cat eyes, but said nothing more, and I went to work. I was drawing the lines in concentration, letting my mind wander along the definitely nice tracks, and in the end I turned off mind for good. And I would have been drawing in peace so I'd probably have finished this stupid task if that black-haired moron at the desk next to mine had not disturbed me with his grunts accompanying his neck stretching towards my work. 

It was the end of my composure. I lifted my head from the project and cursed him to the next five generation, supporting my words with a discreet but well-hit kick. There was a muffled groan.

"Kawamoto, shall you explain me what are you doing?" I immediately heard the distinctive, bored tone of his voice and stiffened on my chair. 

The professor was standing a few steps away from me, eyebrows raised and hands folded across his chest.

"Should I take you to the playground?"

"I'm trying to work, professor," I grunted, holding back the appropriate retort and wondering how the heck did he materialized at my desk.

"Good choice of words, indeed." The corner of his mouth curled up in a cynical smile. "Then be that kind and continue your trials in peace, unless you prefer to try at another university."

I felt my blood flooding. Tobi inhaled loudly, knowing what awaited him at the break, and Akasuna leisurely returned to the cathedral, occasionally glancing at me with hideous satisfaction.

I hated him. I hated him most sincerely and most earnestly, with particular emphasis on his physicality, which, despite the sadistic nature, made most of the female students' knees soften and their tongues tangled. Because exactly! He wasn't just a psychopath. He was a disgustingly handsome psychopath who was well aware of this fact and was not embarrassed to make use of it.

Unfortunately, it happened that he accidentaly found out about my moderate interest in the opposite sex, and from that moment he enjoyed torturing me with himself, perfectly guessing my preferences and weaknesses.

"May you rot in these shavings," I drawled under my breath, sticking a pencil on a blank sheet of paper and tracing a busty doll in a ballerina costume on it, with revenge paints 'Miss Sasori' on her exposed ass. And I would probably enjoy this piece of finest art until the end of the class, if I hadn't realized what my "blank sheet" was and why I just sentenced myself to death. I scribbled a porn image of the puppetry professor on the outline.

The bell rang.

"I would like to remind you that today we have the deadline for submitting the presentation plans to pass," his voice occurred to me as if through a fog.

Did I really hoped it would end well? With my heart pounding in the chest, I tore the rubber band out of my pocket, trying to erase the traces of my crime, as I caught above me the distinctive smell of his perfume.

"It was especially to you, Kawamoto," he announced icily, slipping the battered paper out from under my hands with a nimble movement. 

He attached it to the stack of papers he held, without even glaring at it, and left me sitting at the desk with a silent scream of terror on my face.

[ah-kasuna]

So well, I’ve been playing with this iconmaker and made some medical SasoDei AU by me and my gf (click here to read bout it) icons. I am in love with em ok