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httpshujii · 9 months

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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 彡 In which . . . Hanma Shuji falls in love.

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〔CW〕 — Usage of pet names, mentions of smoking, cursing, first kisses, suggestive themes. long fic (4k words), reader gets called 'Paradise'

〔AN〕 — This is basically me projecting, except I'm not academically smart :D

Hanma Shuji doesn’t believe in love. And he surely doesn’t expect to be loved. And he’s fine with that.

Hanma Shuji went in the wrong at a young age. Falling under the influence of manipulative bliss. Tip of cigarette between sharp teeth, flicker of lighter, and inhaling smoke through mouth, exhaling through nose. Living on the life line of the strong taste of tobacco, the smell of blood, and the sweet intoxication of walking through the streets of Tokyo.

Hanma Shuji walked nights till the crack of dawn. Causing trouble here and there, minding his own business there and here.

Hanma Shuji being a usual delinquent in the lit up streets of Tokyo.

Typical Monday, Shuji sat at the back of the empty classroom. School shirt unbuttoned over a white tank top. Unlit cigarette hanging through his teeth as the early sun caressed his face.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He doesn't usually go to school. Thinks it's too wasteful, he'd much rather pick on younger students in the streets, but no one's available at 6 in the morning.

Shuji didn't sleep last night. Or any night.

"Bored.." He murmured to himself. And just as he was about to leave the class and head back home, a pretty little thing caught his attention.

Bag in your hand and a sweater draped over your other arm.

Your eyes land on him and his cigarette.

"Oh..sorry, didn't think anyone would be here." Shy giggles and hesitant steps take you to your seat that's two rows ahead of his.

You waste no time in placing your bag on your chair and you walk out with your sweater.

The boy's gaze never left your figure. Cat-like eyes stuck on you the whole time. Observing, studying, memorizing. And he's glad you don't notice.

He knows who you are. Everyone knows who you are.

And everyone loved you...Shuji hated that.

How can anyone say they love a girl who was known for her intelligence and her charisma when most of the time nobody knows you as a person?

And that was your thought as you walked around the school. Your beige sweater now on, earphones in ears, and you allow the music to take over you...

Ecstasy carrying layers of notes of different pitches, blissfully pleasing your hearing as the sun rose and started its day.

An hour later and you're back in class, writing down the notes you need to write. This endless cycle continues for the rest of the day, even through lunch you spend your time tutoring other students because you're asked to do so by the teachers.

You're the star student and every teacher's helpful tutor. You can't say you didn't like it because you find enjoyment while helping others.

But it was a bore sometimes...

And so, the day goes by…

Write notes, read, highlight, repeat.

The final period of the day arrives and it somehow goes faster than usual. Just as the bell finally rings…

“Hanma, y/n, could you two come here for a moment?” Your teacher asks as her fingers skim through papers.

Walking towards the desk, you feel a looming presence stand next to you. Your eyes dare dart upwards to see who this Hanma is.

You hear the name everyday when the teacher checks the attendance. Usually there’s no response, and you never paid any mind to his presence.

Your eyes scan over his features quickly. Hair styled up, dangling earring, pointy nose, and hypnotizing golden eyes.

“Y/n I’d like for you to sit with Hanma for the upcoming lesson, and I’d appreciate it if you went over the previous lessons with him as well.”

Groaning internally, you nod politely.

While awkwardly exchanging numbers with Hanma, you couldn’t help but notice the tattoos that decorated his hands. Sin and Punishment. His veins bulge as he typed his digits into your phone. Heat pools at your stomach and you’re forced to look away.

“So, tomorrow at the library after school, sound good?”

“Yeah whatever..” His voice exhales smoky rings of husks. Rumbling down to your heart, making it sprint in place.

Gulping down the sudden lump, grabbing your phone from his hand.

“I-I’ll text you the schedule.”

“Sure.”

“See you.” Waving back at him, you look to see if he’d do the same.

He flicks two fingers at you as a wave and gives you a tired excuse of a smile.

The next day comes faster than expected. Your loafers clap against the tiled floor of the halls. Making your way to the library, you’re surprised to find Hanma already there sitting on one of the many tables.

But…

He’s asleep.

The worst possible scenario.

Is having to wake him up when he looks so peaceful.

What to do? What to do?

Okay.

The options that you have include the following:

A. Wake him up.

B. Leave without an explanation.

C. Leave and text him an apology saying that something came up.

D. None of the above.

You choose D. I can’t just leave him…

But this isn’t like you. The boy barely has any interest in you and you’re aware of that. So why?

Why do you want to wait for him to wake up?

Is it because…

You want to listen to his steady breaths?

Or watch the rise and fall of his chest…

Maybe it’s to stare at him as his eyes flutter.

No, that’s just creepy.

You know what…

Your steps walk towards the table and you start working. Trying so hard to carefully flip the pages of your notebook. Taking your time writing down notes. Stealing glances at him every now and then.

Just enjoying his sleeping presence.

An hour passes, you don’t realize it.

But when you’re about to steal another glance at him, he’s already staring at you.

And oh…

How pretty he looks.

Hair disheveled, eyes hooded, and an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes. Heat pools in your stomach at the sight of him. A good moment passes until he decides to speak…

“Staring is rude y’know.”

“Well you’re staring too.”

“You’re staring as if I look like some monster or somethin’.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re being loud.” “Because you’re making me irritated.” Huffing, you cross your arms.

“Cute…” He hums as he nuzzles into the crook of his elbow, his eyes close momentarily before opening again.

Cute.

Such a complicated word. Hard to know what he’s referring to at this moment.

“Can we start?” You ask, lifting a page in your notebook, indicating you’re fed up and he just gives you a nod.

An hour passes. Shuji hasn’t taken out any notebook or book or pen. But you didn’t question it, at least he’s listening.

“Do you get it?”

“Mhm..”

. . .

“Do you?”

“No.”

A sigh and a pinch to the bridge of your nose.

“Like okay, I get everything yeah? But this part is kinda confusing.” He points to a graph in your book and starts listing what he finds hard.

But you’re barely paying attention.

Well, you are. But on him.

The way he’s leaning over the table, one of his elbows propping his head, as his fist sinks into his cheek. The way his finger taps against your book, your wandering eyes trailing over to his hand. Punishment. Your mind thinks of what his tattoo could possibly mean.

“So for example if this question comes in an exam, how do i answer it?” He asks peering up at you now.

You stare at each other for a few seconds.

“Pretty..” He whispers, he lifts his hand to brush it over the plush of your cheek. But pulling away a moment later, as though you’re too delicate to be touched by his sinful hands.

You didn’t sleep early that night. The phantom of his touch still lingers on you. He left right after you gave him the answer to his question. And you received a text from him once you got home.

“I think I know why everyone calls you Paradise.”

It’s an alias used by students when addressing you.

“Hey Paradise! Can you explain this to us?”

“Paradise, why don’t you come sing karaoke with us tonight?”

Paradise this, paradise that.

You don’t even know why they call you that.

Paradise is…it’s the sprinkle of golden specks across the night sky, it’s the warmth of fire, the coolness of snowflakes. Paradise is long strokes of a paintbrush going down a canvas, the soft washes of waves over the sand, the peaceful layer between the wake and the sleep. Paradise is the intoxicating scent of mysterious glances and peach flavored kisses.

Paradise is anything but you. You have the looks, the brains, everything. But you aren’t the person that you want to be. Being the perfect image for people that don’t bother enough to get to know you is draining. You don’t have friends that last long, you can’t talk to anyone about your day because no one asks, sure you have your parents, but you thrive to hold onto something that would belong to you and you only.

“Why?” You texted him that an hour ago. And as the night continued, sleep taking over, and the rings of the alarm blaring your ears off, you woke up to nothing. Not a text back, not even seen.

“How’s the progress with Shuji going?”

“Good, he’s good at memorizing and catches on quickly.”

“That’s good. You may leave now.”

A long sigh escapes you the moment you close the door of the classroom. Today is colder than usual, and today is worse than usual.

“Someone seems pissed.” The familiar smoky rings of husks. The same playful lilt. And the intimidating sight of Hanma Shuji fills your stomach with butterflies.

It’s been a month since you met him and he texted you every day. Asking if you’re gonna continue studying after school in the library. But he never once answered your question. However, he started sitting with you daily. He changed his seat to sit right next to you, he would sit with you during lunch time and he’d even go as far to buy you a drink from the vending machines.

You don’t know what it is that lures you to his presence. Overall, in your eyes, he’s calm and collected. But it’s only been a month since you’ve met him. There’s still a lot you need and want to learn.

“‘M not pissed.” You grumble clearly pissed as you start walking towards the library.

“Poor little girl’s all mad.”

“I said I’m not mad.”

“Ehe ♡”

“What?”

“We had the same conversation a month ago.”

“Why am I surprised you remember?”

“Why are you surprised that I remember?”

At that, heat tickles your stomach and you just continue walking.

“You’re interesting.” Is what he started with as you took a seat at the table.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

A small tilt of his head and a ghost of a smirk hangs on his lips, “What question?”

“Why.”

Silence hangs in the air. He knows what you’re talking about. He stares at you in a strange intensity, not serious, or playful. You can’t tell what it is you’re feeling. A sharp gulp down your throat and he’s talking again, “You ever been on a motorcycle before?”

“No. Why?”

“Do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“You ask why too much.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Why. Such a stupid word that you tend to repeat. Being sheltered from having friends, you’re not used to discussions outside of the study topic. He makes you feel as if you’re an alien on this planet. He makes you feel curious and…dangerous. You feel dangerous around him.

“Ah fuck it. Lets go.”

“Where?”

“Just come with me will ya?”

Another sharp gulp and your feet are suddenly walking alongside him. You walk outside the school and down the sidewalk, all the way till you reach a small garage. You feel sick. A good sick. The type of sick you feel when you go down a really high rollercoaster.

He walks in and you follow, he grabs your school bag and places it onto a brown leather couch that's tucked into the corner of the place. An old coffee table in front of it and a mini fridge sitting nearby as well. But the main attraction, a motorcycle sits on a platform. A vintage Kawasaki Ninja, styled with a leopard print, and polished so that the finish can twinkle under the light.

You don’t notice yourself when you allow a subconscious ‘woah’ to escape your lips.

“Lovely one, isn’t she?”

You watch as Sin runs along the seat of the vehicle. His eyes stay on you though…

With a nod, he beckons you over. This time your steps are more confident. The minute you stand next to him, his hands move to your hips, lifting you up as if you’re nothing.

“W-what’re you…?”

“Wanna ride with me?”

It’s stupid to ask this question after seating you down. But the way he’s propping himself on the bike, the way his eyes search yours for any hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly attractive by just tilting his head in amusement.

You tug on the hem of your skirt. Do I want this?

“C’mon pretty you know you want to~”

Your stomach did somersaults, butterflies abused your insides, and the blush on your cheeks was not taken for granted by him. With a soft pinch to your cheeks, “Cute.”

He moves away from the bike and walks towards a locker. He pulls out a leather jacket and hands it to you. It’s heavy, warm, and smells of cigarettes and dark cologne. It smells of him and it intoxicates you so beautifully.

He opens the garage door before finally sitting in front of you. The engine growls to life. A leopard hiding behind a bush, revving itself to pounce at a common prey. His calloused hands find refuge on yours, pulling them to hug his waist. You feel him tense up slightly, he stays there, his hands on top of yours, fingers caressing yours.

You feel a strange warmth, like the sun has nuzzled itself in your throat and it's sliding down to rest in your stomach.

This lasts for a couple of seconds before he revs the bike a couple of times, he goes down the ramp of the platform and the wind is quick to play with your hair. The highway he drove on was surprisingly empty despite it being four in the afternoon.

He drove with surprising ease, you’re scared but you trust him. It’s odd, trusting someone that you don’t know much about. Driving before stopping at a red light. He pats your hand before turning his head to the side slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah..”

“You sound hesitant baby, what’s wrong?”

“Kinda scared.”

“Don’t be, just lean with me on the turns alright?”

“Okay.”

“Atta girl ♡”

He drove you to the beach. And as he carried you off the bike, your eyes never left the crashing waves. Wonder filling your eyes as if you’re a little girl again.

“Never been to the beach before?”

“No.”

“Missing out big time.”

He holds your hand before walking towards the wooden dock. You both take a seat on the edge. You peek down at the blue waters, the sun setting creates divine hues of gold to mix with the palette of waves. So beautiful.

“I think I know why they call you Paradise.”

“Why?”

“Because you are paradise.”

“I don’t get it.”

A chuckle from him and he’s laying back on the wood. He sighs dreamily and closes his eyes.

“I don’t get it Hanma.” You repeat and this time he opens his eyes to look at you. He’s so enamored, so amazed by your presence.

“Ah shit.” Punishment clutches his chest. Sin covers his face.

“I don’t get it…” You mumble once again. Shuffling in place to face him now.

“I don’t get it either,” His words are muffled, he slides his hand down his face, “Fuck!” He yells to no one in particular, but you flinch at the volume.

“What did I do?!” You immediately take yourself as the blame but there’s a smile on your face, he smiles at you and he shakes his head ever so slightly.

Sin moves to brush the stray strands of your hair away from your face, it slides down your face to cup your cheek. He props himself up with his other elbow and looks at you appreciatively.

As if admiring a painting, his eyes trace over every feature of your face. Every mole, every freckle, every line and crease. He wants to kiss them. He wants to kiss your cheeks till they’re burning, he wants to kiss your tears away, he wants to kiss you so badly it hurts. You’re right here, in front of him and in his presence…

So why is it so hard to reach out to you and just kiss the life out of you?

Because he’s afraid. Hanma Shuji is fearless, he lives as a careless fugitive that finds pleasure in knocking teeth down people’s throats, he spends his days and nights laughing with the yells of his victims. Hanma Shuji doesn’t believe in love. And he surely doesn’t expect to be loved. And he’s not fine with that.

It’s been a month for God’s sake and he’s already fallen for you. How?

Is it the way you explain lessons? Is it the way you walk? Is it the way your eyes light up when he gets something right? Is it your face? Your body? Your smile? Your laugh? Maybe it’s the little tilt of your head when you feel confused? Or is it the hesitancy every time you’re with him? Maybe it’s everything and more.

Hanma Shuji fell under the painfully beautiful spell of love in a month. And he doesn’t expect to be loved by you.

You’re too pure, too angelic, too beautiful. Your whole existence doesn’t deserve to be meddled with by a boy that could break your heart.

Everything about him breaks your heart…because you want to have him.

“Hanma-”

“Don’t say my name like that.” Lie. Say my name, say my fucking name like it’s a fucking prayer. He wishes to tell you.

“...Shuji.”

“Fuck.” With a single blink, he’s standing on his knees in front of you. His hands cup your cheeks and he looks down at you.

He’s so lovesick it’s pathetic. How? How can he fall in love this quick? Is this normal? Probably not. Does he care? Yes…and no. His eyes narrow and they trace your lips, so kissable.

His thumb presses on your bottom lip. He’s hesitant now. The way you’re looking up at him so prettily. So innocently. Asking him to do whatever he wants, as if you’re completely clueless on what you want. He knows he shouldn’t give in. He really, really shouldn’t. You’re breaking his heart by trusting him with your purity. He hasn’t even kissed you yet and he already feels like he committed a crime.

A long grumble leaves his lips and his forehead is resting on your shoulder. He’s breathing heavily, as if he ran a whole marathon- well, his heart is.

This hurts hurts hurts. He feels like a child at a museum, wanting to touch an ancient vase but if he does he’d get a good slap on his hand for touching something so valuable.

He’s touching someone so valuable. It feels like a crime. Such a big crime.

Just do it Shuji damn it. It’s just a girl.

But it’s not just a girl, his subconscious speaks.

It is.

Is not.

Sigh, is not.

It’s you.

With another sigh, he lifts his head up again.

“Please let me kiss you.”

He wouldn’t be caught dead saying those words in front of anyone but you. He’s so soft it’s revolting. He sounds so desperate, as if he’s starved and thirsty. Thirsty to feel your lips against his. Hungry to taste you and hold you close and never let you go.

He notices the way your eyes widen, and he admires the way as the sun’s final rays swim in your eyes. So pretty so pretty so pretty.

“You’re a crime Paradise..” He mumbles into your ear. Laying a teasing kiss under your ear lobe, “I’ll be so good to you, I promise.” A kiss to your jaw, “Please…” Lips hover over lips, desperately inhaling and exhaling your essence as if you’re water.

He’s a man in the desert, you’re the refreshing oasis in the distance. He wants to drink you up. Feel you down his throat and in his chest.

With little effort, you manage to push yourself high enough so your lips come crashing against his. Arms wrapping around his neck.

What the hell are you doing? You’ve never kissed anyone, so why are you just as desperate to kiss him? For the hell of it? To experience it? No…

You like Shuji. You like his effortlessness, you enjoy talking with him, even if it’s just a stupid lesson, you enjoy his calmness, you enjoy looking at him, you enjoy standing with him behind the school during lunch breaks to make sure he wouldn’t get caught smoking, you love the small moments when he’d struggle to solve a simple equation, you adore his teasing comments and nicknames, you love every moment with him because you feel relaxed, you feel like yourself around him.

He fills that hole in your chest.

The feeling of having someone that belongs to you is fulfilling and rewarding. You’re overflowing with aching waterfalls of affection and need.

His lips mold against yours, he senses your hesitancy and wastes no time in taking initiative. Slowly moving against your lips to provide you with reality, he genuinely wants this. Hanma Shuji has never taken anything seriously, but the moment he met you, everything changed.

As cheesy as it sounds to him, he’s convinced you’re the only person for him. He hums as he deepens the kiss, detaching slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for any negative emotion.

Discomfort, doubtfulness, hate, anything. And you’re over here, looking at him, wanting more but you’re too shy to ask.

He’s basking at the sight of you, lips puckered and wet, cheeks burning, brows furrowed with frustration at the loss of contact.

“You’re just a little girl aren’t you?” His whisper tickles your lips, “‘m not little…”

“Mmm..that so? You’re pouting as if I took your favorite candy away.”

“I want my candy back.”

“Hehe ♡”

That same night, when Shuji dropped you home, he texted you at midnight.

“Meet me outside.”

“Now?”

“Pls?”

You don’t know why you agreed, there’s no school tomorrow so it’s fine. But sneaking out just to meet him? Your parents would be disappointed.

“Hanma?”

“That’s Shuji for you~ Missed you, pretty.”

You shiver when he wraps his arms around your waist, he lays a quick trail of kisses down your neck.

“You saw me a few hours ago!”

“Still missed you though.” He spins you around to face him. And oh…

Hair down, eyes wider than usual, smile stretched from ear to ear.

He’s like a puppy.

“Why are you he-MPH!”

“Mmm ♡”

He’s so cheesy, but you kiss back none the less. This time, the kiss holds more passionate and lustful intent. He isn’t holding back.

Your back arches as he leans against you, as if trying to get as close to you as possible. Sin cups your neck, punishment holds your waist tightly.

He kisses you deeply, longingly, hungrily. You’re conflicted on what he’s trying to say.

Hanma Shuji doesn’t talk much, and doesn’t enjoy conveying things through words. He believes that actions speak louder.

Can’t get enough of you, he says, making me crazy over you, a pretty angel.

Small whimpers escape your throat and he swallows them gratefully. Relishing in the small vibrations shared between the both of you.

He parts after a good minute.

Inhaling and exhaling as if he took his first breath of pure oxygen.

“You’re so lovely.” His hands brush through your hair and he giggles at the sight of you.

“You’re so lovesick.”

“Only for you pretty ♡”

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