Story cover for Detached (Suna x Fem reader street racing fanfic) by jussfrxn
Detached (Suna x Fem reader street racing fanfic)
  • WpView
    Reads 64,876
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    Votes 1,415
  • WpPart
    Parts 24
  • WpHistory
    Time 2h 14m
  • WpView
    Reads 64,876
  • WpVote
    Votes 1,415
  • WpPart
    Parts 24
  • WpHistory
    Time 2h 14m
Ongoing, First published Mar 08, 2021
Mature
"Confusing was another word anyone would call Suna Rintarō, he was mysterious but somewhat kind. He tried his best to be there for you, as he also was a very dangerous human being. It was a confusing relationship, as well as friendship. Y'all were a bit... 𝒹ℯ𝓉𝒶𝒸𝒽ℯ𝒹."

-

Inspiration: Deciphered (Creator: @Hoeneymilktea)

-fem reader
-some scenes may be triggering to some.
-some 18+ chapters
-street racing, drugs/drug dealing, guns, sex, gangs, gun play, degrading, etc. 
-thank you for reading!
All Rights Reserved
Table of contents
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[ongoing] -★- [friends to lovers] It always started the same way with Suna Rintarou-silent, unannounced, like a ghost slipping through a cracked window. No knocking. No asking. Just... showing up like he already owned the place. Maybe, after all this time, he did. Like he'd carved himself a hole in your world, no permission needed. Just quietly taking space, like he was a scar you never asked for but learned to live with. You heard the door click shut behind him-the kind of soft sound that feels like a secret. Then the crinkle of a plastic bag, cheap snacks. "I brought snacks," he muttered, voice low, barely there. Like he didn't want to make a fuss. "Figured you might be a mess, so I grabbed four different kinds. Diversity, you know." You didn't look up. Just kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, pretending the little jolt in your chest wasn't real. Like his presence wasn't knocking all your walls down, one quiet step at a time. He settled beside you-close, but never too close. The kind of distance that lets you feel his heat without catching fire. Like gravity that pulls you in but never lets you fall all the way. From the corner of your eye, you caught his hair-messy strands like he'd been running his fingers through them just to feel something. His hoodie, worn soft and faded, looked like something you'd once fallen asleep tangled in, half-dreaming and half-lost. No words. Just the sound of him tearing open a bag of chips with an almost sacred focus, like it was a lifeline thrown into the chaos. You used to think silence was awkward. But with Suna, it was different. Thick. Weighted. Like the kind of quiet that presses down on your ribs-makes you want to scream or whisper, but mostly just sit there and breathe the same air. Because sometimes, silence said more than any damn words ever could
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