Don't get high with Hamzah. He will strip you naked.
+ fwb!hamzah x reader, smoking weed, drinking, making out
“Y/N why is this couch shaped like a L but feels like a circle?”Martin laughs as he sits across two pillows, a beer in one hand and his socks half-off.
Hamzah breathes from the opposite end, a vape pen attached to his fingertips. “That's how you know it's a good living room. Everyone ends up touching their knees, no matter they like it or not.”
You laughed, sitting crossed legs on the floor, back against the couch, sipping just juice with a splash of vodka. Claire texting between sips of her drink. Mandy is next to her, wrapped up with Martin like a cat.
And of course, Chase is in the kitchen arguing with the air fryer.
“I'm still laughing about what Hamzah and I did few days ago,” Martin says, chuckling.
Mandy answers. “What happened?.”
Hamzah just sighs, eyes low. He already knows where this is going.
Martin jabs a finger toward him. “All I gotta say is, Don't get high with Hamzah. He will strip you naked.”
Everyone laughs.
Even Claire drops her phone. “I knew something happened!”
“Bro you're making it sound weird,” Hamzah says, without even denying it.
“It's not my fault people like Martin can't handle my aura.”
You keep your face blank. Sips your drink.
You shouldn't be thinking on what happened that night. Or every other night. Or the times it didn’t even need weed. Just one look, a single touch of his hand when no one was looking.
Martin’s still talking. Something about how he ended up in just his boxers watching Love Island with Mandy at 2am. Everyone’s laughing.
Except you.
And Hamzah.
You felt his eyes on you–quick, tense, and gone like it had never happened.
You knew it too well. The kind of knowing that burned under skin and behind closed doors.
âŹď¸Ź
Everyone's about to leave. Claire and Mandy saying their goodbyes to the cats. Martin drags Chase out of the kitchen, still mid-rant about his overcooked fries. Hamzah stayed like he's just the helpful friend staying to clean up.
Which he is...... kind of.
Hamzah throws a pillow back onto the couch and kicks his feet up as if the party had never stopped.
“Wanna see something crazy?” he says.
You raise a brow. “If that's some stupid shit Hamzah, You're leaving.”
He smiled, reaching something on his pocket and pulling out a half-used joint in a crusty Altoids tin. "Look what Martin and I didn't finish."
You laugh. “So you just have it with you the whole time and didn't say anything?.”
“But I wanted to smoke with you,” he says, “so let's finish it.”
You roll your eyes, but take a hit when he hands it to you. The smoke is nice and warm, quickly taking into your body. He's already leaning back and exhaling like if it's some kind of spiritual experience.
“You really stripped that man on 4/20?” you ask, laughing.
Hamzah chuckles. “He said he was hot. I said prove it."
“Dumbass.”
He smiles at you, lazy. “You scared I’ll try it on you?”
You start to cough a little. "I am not scared. You'd have to earn it."
“Oh word?” he says, puts down the joint into a nearby cup.
And then he moves closer.
Not too much. Just enough, his leg brushing yours, his hand ghosting along your collarbone, every movement tight with the things he couldn’t say. He craved you, and it was killing him to pretend he didn’t.
“Prove it,” you say.
He leans in slowly, as if everything is still a joke. But when his lips meet yours warm and slow—it feels like a stab to your chest.
The kiss starts soft.
It doesn't stay that way.
Your legs twitch. His hand slips gently to your waist. You pull off his hoodie, and he smiles gently against your mouth.
“Still not scared?” he murmurs, lips brushing your mandible.
“Shut up,” you responded back, grabbing him again.
His hoodie slips off. Yours comes next. Nothing special. You already know how this works. He throws your shirt off. The tips of his fingers trace the border of your waistband
The smoke still swirls in the air. Everything still smells like weed, perfume, and snacks.
His mouth meets yours again. Impatient. A bit familiar.
This is how it has always been–hot, hungry, and temporary.
Nobody knows about this.
And that is the fun of it.
