Art Of Manipulation

A/N : Re-uploaded after fixing errors and changing the name. I seriously need to stop uploading things as soon as I finish them.

Fic is in 2ndperson, meaning you ,the reader are involved.


Lemon will be in the next chapter. Please be patient.

Enjoy!


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“What do you MEAN I have to give him a fucking haircut?”


Silence, as you make long, sweeping movements across the canvas with your thickest brush, holding the thinner, horsehair one between your teeth.


“You don't have to give him a haircu-”


“Because I don't “do” close range fighting, un.” the blonde huffs, blowing a stray blonde bang out of his face. “And if you hadn't noticed, it's kinda hard to collect hair off a corpse after I blow it the fuck up.”


“Would you let me finish?” you mutter, taking the thinner brush from your lips and drawing long, lithe lines of varying length. “More of a goldenrod then neon.” “I don't need hair per-say, it's just generally more effective. I can make do with blood, skin, sometimes even clothes or a personal item.” you glance over, narrowing your eyes at him. “It shouldn't be that hard.”


“But it's STILL not my problem. YOU'VE been assigned to go corrupt this guy with your “voodoo” or whatever, un.”


“It's not “voodoo” you correct him, switching to a much fatter, shorter brush and making quick, light jabs at the painting before you in a deep cherry red.”Much more like a mixture of possession and medical jutsu” “Look Deidara-san, YOU'VE been assigned to help me, and as much as I'd like to do this on my own, I'm not much of a fighter, long range or no, and if I get caught taking a feudal lord's personal effects, Or hair, I'll die.”


And death was seeming like a pretty decent alternative at the time being. You're not a full-time Akatsuki member, far from it, actually, but your manipulation skills were unsurpassed,and when in need, Pein knew where to find you. Given even a single hair and you could have someone murder their entire family before dying a terrible death themselves at their own hands, all while completely aware, but unable to stop themselves from carrying through with the physical motions. Crafting the manipulable doll took hours, days even of uninterrupted concentration, chakra and sharply honed witchdoctor skills.


Unfortunately, it's very, VERY hard to concentrate with Deidara anywhere near you. And whenever you were assigned a mission, you were always, ALWAYS paired with the pyromaniac dumbass of a pretty boy.


A few final jabs, and violla. You rise your your seat and stand back, admiring your masterpiece. Damn, this was your best one yet. The colors, anatomy, every was so bright, so perfect-


“GODDAMNIT YOU PAINTED ME DEAD AGAIN UN”


He makes a motion as if you grab your painting, but you imminently pull the easel out of reach before he has the chance.


“I don't think so. “You say, sticking your tongue out in defiance. “Not after the last five you destroyed.”


If looks could kill(or in Deidara's case, cause things to spontaneously combust) you'd be in a billion pieces by now, as he glares at you, muttering under his breath.


“I don't understand why you're so upset.” you deadpan, frowning. “It's not like I ever destroy your artwork.”


He lets out an indignant huff. “That's because mine destroys itself, un.” A lopsided smirk forms on his lips. “ Besides, you don't create “Art” you just void your bowels all over a canvas and call it a picture.”


“Funny, considering it always comes out looking like you.” you say, leering


“Pfft, you couldn't paint me if you tried. “ he sneers. “Freakin' women don't know the first thing about art, un.”


Okay, THAT was crossing the line. Through the many heated arguments you'd exchanged with your would-be-teammate, he's NEVER stooped as low as gender-discrimination.


“EXCUSE me?” you reply, setting your canvas aside to play your hand on your hip. “Women don't know art? We ARE art! The female body is a masterpiece all in it's own.”


Teal eyes narrow as a sneer distorts his feminine features. “You're one to talk, un. Frumpy, no tits, homely-”


You roll your eyes. This bullshit again. Every guy and his dog just assumed that you didn't have a figure because of the baggy clothes you always wore. You'd never really seen the need to bother with anything fancy, your job was pretty much restricted to crafting killers dolls, controlling hapless victims with said dolls, or when you weren't being employed by Akatsuki, painting. None of which required being out and about, or seen by the general populace. As such, you opted for more comfortable, functional clothing. Clothing that hid a much more curvacious figure that next to no-one knew about. Much less Deidara.


“-shapeless, unkempt, dreary,-”


And he was STILL managing to find insulting, increasingly obscure insulting adjectives.


“Deidara- you can stop now.” you blow out a breath. “I get the point. You find me about as attractive as a corpse.” you feel your cheeks heating up, angry that he'd actually gotten to you, and strangely disappointed. Whatever. Stupid pretty boy probably preferred the cock anyways. It's not like you cared. Anymore.


Admittedly, you did have a crush on him, back when you were first employed by the organization, and you'd nearly died of excitement when you'd been paired off with him. But relentless teasing, torment, and just generally being a dick quickly squashed your fangirl crush into oblivion.


“It's a shame, really.” he frowns. “I like you enough, and It's been ages since I've had a lay. If only you were a little girlier-”


You can actually feel some vital part of your brain snap in half. Because out of all the essentially nasty things Deidara had said to you in the past, NOTHING compared to this.

That was it.

You march right up to the feminine gorgeous asshole of a blonde, and while keeping your eyes, locked, unzip the long, loose dress you have on, letting it pile onto the floor, and with one hand, swiftly undo your bras, letting gracious double d's bounce loose. You smirk watching his jaw unhinge slightly, wearing an astonished expression unfitting of his know-it-all-nature.

“Take a good look at my “homely” little body,” you purr in the most sultry voice you can manage, running a finger under his chin “Because I don't care HOW bad you need a lay, Deidara. You're NOT going to get it.”


And with that, you make your way out of the room, throwing your bra over your shoulder, which, ironically enough, snags on Deidara's ponytail instead of falling to the floor.

It's taken three days, three days in which you worked hours on end to craft the doll, manged to finish a few commissions requested from your day-job, and Deidara got down on his knees and begged Pein to swap partners, on more than one occasion.


And finally, you were left with only one objective.


Retrieve the feudal lord's hair


There was a reason you were assigned to gain control of a politician rather than a powerful ninja or Kage, something about connections, openings, money, whatever. Pein didn't exactly bother telling you the details of his master plan, and you didn't ask, not only because you were being pain handsomely for the mission, but because Pein had told you straight out that he'd kill you if you didn't comply the first time he'd sought your help.


“ Maybe it would've been worth it” you think, clinging to dear life on one of Deidara's clay birds as you flew nearly a thousand feet above the ground. Heights hadn't really bothered you THAT much, but having nothing but a teammate that hates your guts between you and open sky would give anyone vertigo


You lurch forward as the bird hits a particularly hard crosswind, and you suddenly find nothing between you and open sky, and just as your life begins flashing before your eyes, you feel a hand grasping your wrist, and you look up to see a blue eye narrow, glaring at you.”


“Shit, un” he mutters, pulling you back aboard. “Be more careful!” and it's then you notice he appears worried, and this bothers you, because Deidara is never EVER worried, much less about you.


You swallow hard, averting you eyes, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. “S-sorry. I'll-”


“Hold on this time.”


You raise your eyebrow. “I WAS holding on.”


“Not the bird, to me, un.”


Of course. He'd done this plenty of times before. It made sense.


What DID make sense is why you hesitate, and you feel your cheeks flushing as you wrap your hand around his waist, making sure to leave at least three inches between your bodies.


“Tighter, or you're gonna fall off again, un!”

Well fuck that. You bite your lip, blushing hard as you pull yourself closer, chin resting on his shoulder, wondering just what exactly was so attractive about the bastard in the first place.