009
Title: Violent Sympathy
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 550
Pairing: Deidara/random jounin
Summary: Deidara is a very lonely child indeed.
Notes: Deidara centric fic, because I've always assumed he's a very lonely character, for some reason. Also warnings for necrophilia, I suppose.
Deidara blinked, suddenly wondering if what he was doing was wrong. It wasn’t so much the killing that bothered him, for he had done plenty of that before, and yet something about this just felt… odd.
The body wasn’t particularly beautiful-he was (or rather, had been) a jounin, yet had fallen disappointingly easily in battle. Still, his hair was particularly nice, Deidara thought as he ran his hands through it, letting his tongues have a taste. It was… pleasing, yes, if not a little bloody.
His eyes were nice looking too, all cloudy and hazel. The jounin had closed them when the explosion came, and so Deidara had to pull those eyelids back himself; it was fun, he decided. Other than that, there was nothing remarkable about this kill.
“You’re not art, un.”
For now the body was wrapped in one of the boy’s spare Akatsuki cloaks, and his old clothes lay discarded in the corner of his room. They were ruined, but it’s not as if he had any use for them now, anyway.
“Come here, place nicely now.”
Pulling the cloak apart he examined his chest. It was torn apart and unrecognisable, battered in so much that where there was flesh still clinging to his bones it was horrible and burnt into a sickly red colour. Deidara frowned at the smell, quickly doing the cloak back up.
He lifted one of the jounin's arms up threw it over his own shoulder, leaning against the slouched body almost affectionately and stared off into the distance.
“I'm bored, un,” he complained, “What about you?”
As if expecting a response Deidara leaned up and looked into those empty eyes, letting his mouth flicker with the slightest hint of a smile. Silence, and then more silence.
Nodding thoughtfully Deidara rubbed his chin, murmuring “Of course, un,” to his new friend, grinning happily by then.
And there was no warning after this; the boy simply pulled himself to his feet and knelt inbetween the jounin's twisted legs, breathing heavily and pushing his body against him. He didn't look the jounin in the face after this, but simply watched the consistent blinking of his bedroom light.
In all honesty Deidara didn't particularly enjoy the experience, nor did he completely understand it; his first reaction was to momentarily feel embarrassed, but that soon turned to anger. Rolling off of the jounin he turned and punched him in the shoulder, before picking up the now discarded cloak to clean up his mess.
There was a strange tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, and the boy decided the best way to get rid of it was with more explosions. Quickly he grabbed and moulded the clay in his still shaking hands, plastering it all over his friend, suddenly too excited to do it properly. The explosion came and went in a flash, the noise tearing through the small room and sending him flying straight into the wall.
He landed in a mess of his own blood and random scrapings of flesh which probably should have made him feel sick. In stead he just remained where he was curled up in the corner, crying violently and pausing every so often to wipe his tears and laugh into his sleeve.
Yes, Deidara was very lonely.
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 550
Pairing: Deidara/random jounin
Summary: Deidara is a very lonely child indeed.
Notes: Deidara centric fic, because I've always assumed he's a very lonely character, for some reason. Also warnings for necrophilia, I suppose.
Deidara blinked, suddenly wondering if what he was doing was wrong. It wasn’t so much the killing that bothered him, for he had done plenty of that before, and yet something about this just felt… odd.
The body wasn’t particularly beautiful-he was (or rather, had been) a jounin, yet had fallen disappointingly easily in battle. Still, his hair was particularly nice, Deidara thought as he ran his hands through it, letting his tongues have a taste. It was… pleasing, yes, if not a little bloody.
His eyes were nice looking too, all cloudy and hazel. The jounin had closed them when the explosion came, and so Deidara had to pull those eyelids back himself; it was fun, he decided. Other than that, there was nothing remarkable about this kill.
“You’re not art, un.”
For now the body was wrapped in one of the boy’s spare Akatsuki cloaks, and his old clothes lay discarded in the corner of his room. They were ruined, but it’s not as if he had any use for them now, anyway.
“Come here, place nicely now.”
Pulling the cloak apart he examined his chest. It was torn apart and unrecognisable, battered in so much that where there was flesh still clinging to his bones it was horrible and burnt into a sickly red colour. Deidara frowned at the smell, quickly doing the cloak back up.
He lifted one of the jounin's arms up threw it over his own shoulder, leaning against the slouched body almost affectionately and stared off into the distance.
“I'm bored, un,” he complained, “What about you?”
As if expecting a response Deidara leaned up and looked into those empty eyes, letting his mouth flicker with the slightest hint of a smile. Silence, and then more silence.
Nodding thoughtfully Deidara rubbed his chin, murmuring “Of course, un,” to his new friend, grinning happily by then.
And there was no warning after this; the boy simply pulled himself to his feet and knelt inbetween the jounin's twisted legs, breathing heavily and pushing his body against him. He didn't look the jounin in the face after this, but simply watched the consistent blinking of his bedroom light.
In all honesty Deidara didn't particularly enjoy the experience, nor did he completely understand it; his first reaction was to momentarily feel embarrassed, but that soon turned to anger. Rolling off of the jounin he turned and punched him in the shoulder, before picking up the now discarded cloak to clean up his mess.
There was a strange tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, and the boy decided the best way to get rid of it was with more explosions. Quickly he grabbed and moulded the clay in his still shaking hands, plastering it all over his friend, suddenly too excited to do it properly. The explosion came and went in a flash, the noise tearing through the small room and sending him flying straight into the wall.
He landed in a mess of his own blood and random scrapings of flesh which probably should have made him feel sick. In stead he just remained where he was curled up in the corner, crying violently and pausing every so often to wipe his tears and laugh into his sleeve.
Yes, Deidara was very lonely.