#hamzah

2 months in

you and hamzah would be a bit apprehensive about having you online in connection to him due to fears of how you would be treated

but the reception from mandy being on the channel eased his worries some.

though your relationship was relatively new, only actually knowing each other for five months and only dating for three, you were in agreement that you wouldn’t be in any content.

however hamzah really struggled to pretend that he wasn’t seeing someone, he liked you too much. he especially struggled when martin would have such open conversations about mandy

so he started giving little hints

“i’m going to come here with my girlfriend one day”

“if my girlfriend ever did that, oh boy”

“i be in my girls ear like -“

6 months in

you’d been in a few of mandy’s insta pics and stories, even posting some of your own. people just assumed that you were close friends with mandy (which you were, it’s how you met hamzah in the first place). but then hamzah would sometimes publicly comment inside jokes on them.

he’d then tell mandy to just start saying your name whenever she was telling stories that you were involved in.

“omg, i was out with y/n for a girls night and tell me why men are so embarrassing. there was this guy who got way too drunk for a wednesday night, stumbling all over the bar and threw up all over the entrance. I actually feel ill just thinking about it again, y/n had to douse me in perfume so i couldn’t smell anything.”

“sounds like a good friend.” hamzah tried to hide his smile, playing with his hoodie zip.

mandy gave him a sly smirk before looking at the camera, “she is.”

then he started bringing you up himself

“we were supposed to all go see fnaf last night but martin and mandy bailed so it was just me and y/n and i have to say it was pretty good.”

“yeah sorry about that, fish and carl were going crazy,” martin shrugged, “what did y/n think?”

“well, she’s been watching a bunch of josh hutcherson edits so i think she only went cause she has a crush on him cause she’s not a huge fan of scary stuff.”

“a woman with taste, huh.” martin said seriously, before he starting singing whistle by flo rida.

“nah, i don’t get the hype bro.” hamzah shook his head, disappointed.

martin looked into the camera, quizzically, “i’m sensing a bit of jealousy”

hamzah just rolled his eyes, opting to change the conversation.

9 months in

by this point people are pretty sure something is going on between you guys and are begging for you to be in a video.

once again mandy comes through, featuring you in some of her vlogs where the ipods see the first interactions with you and hamzah

your a bit shy, not really used to being on camera so it’s mostly just glimpses of you walking in the back while mandy talks to her followers.

now you guys are feeling a lot more settled in the relationship so your happy to be involved a bit more.

the biggest answer to the rumours was in mandy’s vlog when hamzah is driving to go look at cats and your in the passenger seat next to him instead of martin like usual. then you two in the back of clips playing with the cats together.

another moment when hamzah is finally getting blue and red, mandy and martin come to give hamzah some stuff for the cats and your sitting on the bed beside them watching mandy give him all the accessories and him subsequently passing everything to you to see.

and when the cats finally arrive at their new home, hamzah introduces you as their mother, with mandy, martin and chase being aunt and uncles.

your literally so enamoured with them, they’re so cute and chill and there are so many comments saying how sweet your interactions are with them.

i think even though you barely even spoke in the vlogs at the beginning, hamzah would have gotten reassured that people weren’t going to attack you online.

which led to him making it official; by getting you on for a patreon podcast episode.

you’d probably only agree to it because you thought that way less people would see as you’d still be slightly camera shy.

not knowing that people post clips on tiktok lol.

it would just be the two of you (red and blue popping in every now and then) sitting on his unmade bed, leaning against the wall, talking about random stuff. hamzah would have to tell you multiple times to talk into the mic because you keep forgetting.

“sorry about her, she’s a podcast guest virgin, we’re working on it, right?”

“uh huh.” you nod, with a shy smile.

and obviously hamzah would be teasing you constantly.

“y/n has been obsessed with me since 4freakshow -“

“lies!”

“you literally said you watched it”

“i said i remembered it, i had no idea that was you.”

“you literally saved the promiscuous girl vid.”

“again, wrong.”

“but you liked it?”

“…”

“see!!”

from then on you’d be talked about freely amongst the gang in videos, and grew to be a lot more talkative, going on the podcast a couple times.

Hamzah took notice of your pajama shorts, large t-shirt, and messy hair. He had no idea how your most disheveled look still made him stare.

You felt his gaze and looked at him, but before you caught him, Hamzah looked back at the tv.

Now it was your turn to admire. Hamzah had always looked effortlessly hot in your eyes, but movie nights especially. Something about his careless look made your heartbeat a little faster. Like this view of him, in pajamas, with strands of dark, curly hair flying everywhere, was only made for you. Especially when he wore his glasses.

This secret staring match lasted the whole movie.

Usually, when movie night ended and the icecream was finished, Hamzah would talk a bit and then head home. It always killed him to leave you.

However, this time, Hamzah planned on telling you something he’d been hiding from since he met you. He wouldn’t back out of it this time

To stall, and make the night continue, he started with a simple converstation. “Wait, so do you want to be in the video or not, ‘cause I completely understand if it’s too much. I know me and Martin can get, like, kinda weird but it's what the viewers like so…”

Hamzah was rambling and you knew that if you didn’t stop him now he’d go on forever. You leaned over, and quickly put your hand over his mouth, shutting him up. You were both already situated with your legs basically pressed together, so reaching him was no problem.

“You’re rambling, Hamzah.” you laughed and kept your hand over his mouth. “And yeah I guess I’ll be in a video.” You tried to seem bossy by pointing a finger into his chest “But it we better be playing Sims or Episode.”

Then you realised just how many places you were touching him…

Teasing in your guys’ relationship was the norm, but recently, it has started to feel more like flirting than friendly teasing. There’s been a lot more… tension.

He stopped talking when you covered his mouth and smiled underneath your hand.

Recently, everything you do has felt more like flirting, now that you think about it.

At first it was innocent, a few touches and remarks, because it felt comfortable. Now, though, something hotter brimmed underneath everything.

Maybe you took it too far sometimes, with very obvious innuendos and such, but you couldn’t help yourself when it came to him. However, in the back of your mind, there was that voice reminding you that Hamzah is probably just being friendly and you were overthinking it.

You didn't want to take that chance, so you never brought up the obvious shift between you two.

You kept your hand on his mouth a bit longer than was probably normal, but the look that Hamzah was giving was almost magnetic. There was something in his eyes that was brand new, and raw. He lightly grabbed your wrist and moved to hold your hand instead, his eyes still locked on yours.

It was silent until he opened his mouth, deciding to speak up.

Now, Hamzah decided. Now he would tell you. “Y/n, there’s something I’ve been meaning to-”

“You should really start wearing your glasses more.” You winced internally at the accidental compliment/confession that slipped out.

“What?” He had a physical reaction to your sudden outburst and started laughing. “What’re you talking about? My glasses? What, why?” He seemed super nervous , and you could tell by his familiar awkward smirk from when we he’s flustered. If only he knew what that slight upturn of his lips did to you.

His laugh, your proximity to each other, and his just overall look meant your insides were basically jelly. He was still holding your hand, and once you realized it, the rosy blush spreading up your neck was inevitable.

“Don’t tease, you obviously know why.” You answered, looking away to try and hide the blush.

“Yeah?” He asked, in the most sensual voice you’ve ever heard from him, while looking down at your intertwined hands.

You were extremely surprised by the sudden deepness of his voice but decided to hide your reaction. Instead, you rolled your eyes and sat up to take your bowls to the sink. You needed to get away before you let your impulsive thoughts get the best of you.

He let you walk away, contrary to what his mind was reeling with, slowly dropping your hand as you moved away.

He watched you as you walked, with his eyes on the way your shorts were slightly riding up, and how your legs were on full display.

You set the dishes in the sink and turned to head back but were surprised with Hamzah’s towering figure.He followed you into the kitchen and was standing right infront of you. He was situated with one hand on the back counter and the other on the island, blocking your way out.

Instead of arguing, you just put a hand on your hip, and looked at him. Nervousness consumed your mind as you fully realized just how close to you Hamzah was standing. Instead of moving away, however, you stayed close, catching his familiar, minty scent. You looked back into his eyes-His eyes that held the exact same searing gaze as earlier. He seemed to make nonverbal promises. Of what? You weren’t sure but how he was looking was almost dirty.

“Y/n, what I was saying earlier…” Hamzah began again but briefly stopped for a second and looked at you expectantly.

“What?” You asked confusedly why he stopped.

“Oh, just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to rudely interrupt me again.”

You scoffed and faked hurt, “rudely?! I complimented you!”

“Yeah, I guess.” His smirk was back and his eyes were on yours. If it was anyone else, eye contact would have made you look away. Except Hamzah isn’t just anyone, and his eyes were like pools you could drown in.

He moved an inch closer, testing the waters. When he saw a slight pink to your cheeks at his closeness, he gained sudden confidence.

“Don’t let me leave tonight.” He suddenly spoke.

You were taken aback with his words, “What, like lock the doors? Are you going to transform at midnight or something?”

He let out a breathy laugh, but his tone never shifted.

“You know what I mean, Y/n.” A deep breath. “Let me stay. Let me show you what I…”

“Hamzah. Of course you can stay over. I’d never push you-”

“No, y/n that’s not…”

A beat of silence passed until you softly spoke up.

“What, Hamzah?”

“Let me show you what I think about everytime I’m near you.”

His words were ringing in your ears and your entire body almost had a physical reaction to what he was insinuating.

“Let me show you what I’ve been imagining for the past 5 damn years, Y/n.”

You were stunned, because 5 years? That’s almost for as long as you’ve known him.

“5 years…” You tested the words out loud and it was like an award winning melody to your ears.

“Yeah, 5 years. Actually scratch that. 6 years.” He stood closer, and spoke quieter. “Since I saw you for the first time I’ve been holding back from you. From admitting how I feel because I was afraid I might lose you.”

Like a dam, you broke. Anything along those lines were exactly what you’ve been wishing for, and here those words were, out in the open.

Finally,

You grabbed the front of his hoodie with surprising strength and pulled him down to your level.

Before you could follow through and kiss him, you just held his lips near yours instead.

You both shared one breath, staring at each others' lips. You stayed like this, too afraid to ruin the moment if you went too fast. Just the whisper of Hamzah’s lips against yours filled you with an insane amount of need.

However, Hamzah took the invite of your pouty lips and closed the distance for you.

Unable to contain the years of built up desire, you kiss him back. Hard.

He almost stumbles forward as you pull his hoodie closer to you. He smirks into the kiss at your eagerness and you swear that simple action could make you drop to your knees if he wasn’t holding your waist.

His fingers were digging into the fabric of your t-shirt, basically molding into your waist. It’s like you skipped the slow-getting-hotter part of the kiss and immediately skipped to fully making out.

Hamzah licked the inside of your mouth, making you release a quiet mewl from the back of your throat.

He parted from your lips, barely. Just enough distance to catch your breath before he dove back in. It was almost feral, the way he moved from your lips to your cheek to your jaw. He grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you up. Your immediate reaction was to wrap your legs around him and hold him as close as possible.

Right now, being chest-to-chest, literally holding one another wasn’t close enough.

He slowly carried you back to the couch while making small licks and bites along your throat.

He placed you on the couch and immediately followed, covering your body with his.

“Y/n…” He spoke your name with a deep rumble, into your shoulder before kissing your pulse under your jaw.

You unlatched your lips to take off his glasses and setting them beside you. You would have loved for him to keep them on but you could tell how annoyed he was getting with them when he tried to kiss you.

He watched your movement carefully, and let a mental picture of how hot you looked under him.

When you came back to him, he immediately put his lips back to the spot on your neck that he figured out was the sweet spot where you made the most noise.

“Hamzah..” you answered, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging it up, signalling you want him to take it off.

“You sure?” He asked you, looking in your eyes for the first time since you started kissing. He took note of your red cheeks and matching swollen lips. He was so absolutely obsessed with you.

“Hamzah, If you couldn’t tell, I also have feelings for you and want you to go back to kissing me.” You teased him. “Without your shirt though” you smiled innocently and pulled his shirt up to reveal his chest.

“Such a smartass.” He smiled and pulled his shirt completely off and discarded it somewhere behind you. He was still smiling as he reconnected your lips, and the feel of his grin in your kiss made you smile as well.

The whole thing was unreal.

You felt so…happy in the moment, like nothing could compare. Like this is all you’d ever wanted and needed.

He slowly lifted the hem of your shirt as well, exposing your soft skin and thin bra. He could see the peaks of your nipples poking through the fabric and the image made him want to kiss every part of you he’s never seen.

To be truthful, any sight of you made him want to kiss you like that, but specifically right now, his pulse was very prominent in the lower part of his body from the current view.

You sunk your teeth lightly into his lower lip, and he replied by kissing you harder. He couldn’t hold back his desire at one point, when you started letting out breathy moans into his mouth- he jerked his hips against yours. You really felt just how much he needed you just then. The small pressure from his growing erection against you made you throw your head back and grind along lift your hips to meet his.

He started slowly grinding into you until you were full on dry-humping each other.

If Hamzah felt like this with clothes on, you only wondered what he felt like-

Your thoughts were interrupted by Hamzah grabbing your ass, then moving his hands along the back of your thighs. He lifted them up so you could wrap them around his back.

He rutted faster against you, and you swear you could feel his full length against you now. Your panties were soaked at this point and the wet spot growing on the front of his grey sweats showed that you had the same effect on him.

He sighed into your ear, both arms now propped on each side of your head. “Fuck, i’m gonna come in my pants from you, gorgeous.”

You let out a soft whine at the pet name and dragged your nails down his back, undoubtedly leaving scars. “Then just come like this, Hamzah. Show me what I mean to you. Like you prosmised.”

Erotic noises escaped your lips from the insane friction. You arched and dragged your hands back up his back and into his soft curls, tugging lightly.

“God, why haven’t we done this before” Hamzah sounded pained as he whispered, shutting his eyes tight from the upcoming sensation.

“I have no fucking idea. We were both too much of pussies to admit anything.” You replied in between short breaths.

He chuckled, but basically choked on his laugh when you reached into his pants to properly feel him.

“Yeah,” He agreed, and kissed you roughly, smashing his lips into yours and making your teeth clash at times.

“Fuck I’m..” You started to warn him, but he already knew.

“Me, too.”

He shifted the smallest bit but for some reason his new position made the friction ten times stronger. Hamzah’s hard bulge was hitting the perfect spot that made your panties rub against your clit in a way that made you gasp.

“Holy shit Hamzah” you gasped and arched your back to meet his chest. He laid more of his weight on yours, feeling your nipples through your bra.

“wait before we…” He looked you in your eyes and silently asked to take your bra off by slowly pulling down a strap from your shoulder.

“take it off of me, Hamzah.”

He wasted no time and took off your bra, exposing the peaks of your nipples. He immediately moved a hand to play with your breasts, giving each of them attention. “God, you're beautiful. even better than I imagined.”

His words made you want more so you arched you back again, making him shut his eyes tight at the friction.

“Fuck, baby,” he said softly.

He kept one hand next to your head, where he held himself up and moved the other from your breast to rub you through your shorts. “Hamzah please..please touch me”

He slipped a teasing finger past the waistband of your shorts. But you were done with foreplay and just needed him. His hand went past your underwear, finally reaching where you needed him.

He tested it by swiping two fingers along your folds.

“so wet f’me, yeah?”

“yeah…please Hamzah.”

“don’t worry baby.” At the same time he spoke he sunk two of his fingers into you, curling them at the perfect speed, while using his thumb to rub your clit.

how he was so good at this, you had no idea.

You wanted to please him as well, but when you looked at his tent, a wet spot was already extremely prominent.

“hey,” he turned your focus to him.

“Just let go baby. I'll come with you. seeing you like this….having you like this is already getting me off so bad.” his strokes became faster and your breathing got harder.

Before you could release, he took his fingers away and replaced them with rough grinding of his hips again.

Seconds later a feeling so strong washed over your body, draining you and your mind. Hamzah came right after you. The connected spot between you was soaking and warm with both of your come leaking through your pants.

“Jesus, Y/n if thats what its like with clothes on I can't wait until-”

“Yeah.” You laughed short with your eyes closed at the familiar words- he practically said out loud what you’d been thinking the whole time. “Trust me, I'm suddenly very impatient to find that out.” You admitted with a smile and opened you eyes, looking at him through your lashes.

Fucked out and sweaty Hamzah was breathtaking. And now he was yours to admire, without any secret staring.

Hamzah kissed you softly, still with passion but not as feverish. He slowly moved you both into a sitting position before he stood up with you in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“What I said I would,” Is all he said. You were a bit confused until he spoke again.

“I'm gonna show you…” He kissed you long then finished his sentence. “I’m gonna show you i’ve imagined every fucking day.”

Your body grew immediately hot again.

“Alright. Show me.” You said quietly into his ear, nibbling it once as he carried you upstairs and into your bedroom. “But you might need to tell Martin your gonna film the video another day…”

He smiled big with his perfect teeth and shook his head with laughter.

— march 2024

hamzah is hungry beyond belief.

martin's already assured him both over facetime and text that he's on his way with their full course meal of chinese takeout— currently sat in the basket of martin's rented bike, jostling up and down with every bump of the toronto pavement without a doubt. yet his stomach is still throwing a tantrum, depraved of any nutrients while his brain repeats in a neanderthal-like manner "food. coming. soon." in hopes of reducing the pressure within his poor stomach.

he opens instagram, needing some sort of an escape, because naturally a little doom-scrolling will ease his (dramatic but still very real) pain. somehow, among the ridiculous animal reels and comedic twitch clips on his explore feed, he stumbles upon a reel from you. a girl with a different quality and charm to your face and character than anything he's seen in other content creators.

not only does your bubbly yet elegant voice keep him watching but the subject matter is rather fitting— you're cooking a homemade chicken pot pie for the first time. in the video you talk about how often your mother would prepare it growing up and now it's become a popular craving for you. hamzah watches intently as if he were ready to get up and make his own pot pie alongside you.

"hey! the hell are you smiling at?" martin's voice is breathy due to his trek to and from the chinese restaurant. he walks into the living room holding a crinkly plastic bag reading: "thank you! have a nice day!" with that big, yellow smiley face in between.

"huh? nothin'." hamzah dismisses and adjusts himself on the couch, "come on, 'm starving!" he reaches his hand out to take the food from martin before patting the seat next to him.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

— june 2024

"so when are you gonna come see us?"

it was a surprise to see hamzah follow you on instagram a few months ago. you'd heard his name thrown around in certain spaces of the internet but never really indulged in any of his content.

his instagram had the format of a shitposting ten-year-old but it only made you curious about the humorous twenty-something. eventually you'd watched a youtube video of his; completely laughing your ass off and finding your eyes chasing after hamzah whenever he was in even the tiniest of frames.

it was never a serious crush by any means, just a nice piece of secret eye-candy who also happened to have a great personality and an enviously good work ethic (the effort martin and hamzah put into their videos was astonishing to you).

so you were quite nervous to be the first to dm him, in hopes of a friendship or a least a quick exchange of "hey." it was only right — you two had been liking each other's poss and stories a consistent amount.

the mellow first exchange between the two of you in april blossomed into you both constantly talking in your free time; your friendship quickly to developed a flirty back-and-forth dynamic that sometimes borders on way more than platonic. eventually martin was added to your consistent facetime calls and you’ve even let them convince you to create a discord account to play minecraft and grand theft auto online with them.

and now you’re lying on your leather couch with both of their faces displayed in your laptop’s screen, eager to hear your response.

“i don’t know…” you play with a loose end of the sweater you’re wearing, “what would we even do?”

they both stay quiet for a moment before hamzah laughs, “why are you acting like you don’t wanna say yes right now?”

a smile slowly grows on your face “okay… gimme a second,” you begin to google flight information to and from toronto.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

— september 2024

yourusername

Liked by clairedrake, hamzahthefantastic, and others

yourusername Y’all didn’t tell me they get wild in the 6 , Omg??!! Highly requested video out neow <3

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chaserutherford 🍽️8️⃣ • ♥︎ by author

yourusername I rlly do miss u already 😖😖😖😖

ynfan01 ohhhh this was so necessary thank u mother☺️!! • ♥︎ by author

yourusername Mhm!!! Olivia Wilde head nod 💞💞

slushieeee333 y/n: slurping pasta , hamzah the whole time: 😊👀😍😊

thatmartinkid hey look ma i made it!!! 🫵😂 • ♥︎ by author

ynsnumberone THE FLIRTING WENT CRAZYYYYY

slushedyn her and hamzah are obsessed with each other i fear

thatslushykid COME BACK 2 TORONTO ASAP I NEED MORE COLLABS RN!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

hamzahluver45 ok but like it’s so obvious that her trying to flirt was just irritating them the whole time !! Like girl ..💀💀

hamzahthefantastic Posting our dms is already one thing , but TAGGING ME is actually crazy 🤔🤔 • ♥︎ by author

yourusername R u mad @ me Bby???? 😕

hamzahthefantastic BruhLmaooooooooooo

freakzahfan that's one too many "o"s just say u wanna kiss her my boy

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“oh!” you accidentally trip over yourself while walking backwards and stumble into hamzah, who was standing in front of the unfamiliar grocery store, watching you prepare to give an intro. “jesus,” martin laughs under his breath from behind the camera. he lowers the camera, showing his feet but still picking up his voice in the mic, “you good?!”

the clip cuts to you stood upright again, "i'm in the six!!!" you exclaim loudly, raising your arms above your head. "and i'm here with slushy noobz to add to my series where other creators "teach me" their specialty. you tug at hamzah's arm and pull him into the frame with you, "hamzah tell them what you and martin are gonna teach me," you look up a him while still holding onto his arm. you interrupt him before he even begins to speak, "oh yeah! martin is also here by the way!" you point and martin flips the camera to himself. "they're just leaving me out it's fine, i know i'm out already, just vote just vote," he references with a sigh before turning it back to you and hamzah. "don't start! chase is on his way to come and film for us-" "listen! this is our plan-- we're gonna teach you how to mukbang; everyone knows we're very qualified in this field and know everything there is to know about the subject, so, uhh, yeah we're kinda experts. i dont know, would you say that, martin?" hamzah rambles. "yeah, i think that's a good way to describe us" "perfect! then you're teachin' me how to kiss next, right?" you ask. hamzah goes from looking at you attentively (hanging onto your every word) to a face deadpanned as he glances over to martin trying not to smile.

the video cuts to a clip with the three of you, finally, all in one shot now that chase is behind the camera. you pull a cart out from its slot and push yourself on it before standing both feet on top of the tiny foot bar, gliding through the automatic doors.

next, a clip of martin speaking to the camera while you and hamzah look through different pasta sauces together, "okay we didn't really explain this well but essentially we're all going to cook a nice dish and then eat it together in front of you guys. isn't that cute?" "yeah, can't wait for us to mukbang together" hamzah speaks. martin turns back to the camera with a smirk, "i bet you wish you were mukbanging with us huh, chase?" "no. and you just made that word up." martin's face falls.

the entire grocery shopping trip is filmed with little moments like hamzah mispronouncing a few brand names, martin talking to strangers about which pasta noodle to try, and you randomly walking off into estranged aisles "just to see if things are really different here"

now, you're all back at martin's home; you read aloud the recipe and hamzah is stood practically on top of you as he also looks down at the phone, all while martin lays ingredients out of the counter. "okay simple enough," hamzah says. "yeah, and you're still gonna make me do all of the work anyway," martin huffs sarcastically. you giggle a bit, "martin the most you'll have to do is boil water, i'll force him to do the rest." "huh???!! who??" hamzah questions, his smiley face “accidentally” leaning far too close to yours. "you, duh!" you laugh and turn away to look for a large pot.

throughout the cooking process you slowly stop helping; talking to mandy while you two eat chips and salsa while leaning on the counter or petting the pets instead of doing any of the tasks given to you from the self-proclaimed chefs.

"this is literally your video! what the hell y/n?!" martin whines when he finds you and mandy making a tiktok in his "man cave" together after you'd told them you were going to the bathroom, "seriously mandy?" all of the audio can be heard from the mics on your clothing. "where was she?" hamzah says monotonous as he scrolls on his phone. "making freaking tiktoks with mandy of course!" you giggle as you walk into the kitchen behind him, "what? the food is practically done, we're just waiting on garlic bread!" you shrug and hamzah immediately turns at the sound of your voice. "well, you gonna at least show us?" hamzah asks casually placing his hands on the counter around you, trapping you in the space between him and the marble surface. "yeah," you tilt your head so you can look at his face as you make fun of his not-so-friendly gesture, "you wanna keep breathing down my neck like that while i show you?" he laughs and moves away to cover up the embarrassment of being called out. "stop!" you laugh and bring him back into frame forcing him and martin to watch you and mandy dance on your phone screen.

the four of you sit on the carpet with plates full of chicken alfredo and pieces of garlic bread laid out on martin’s coffee table. you all talk about your experience in toronto so far, how you and hamzah first met, … et cetera.

martin attempts to teach you canadian slang: “keener is big here.” “actually? what the hell does that even mean?” “it’s kinda like a try hard— people will call you a keener if you’re doing too much, basically.” “wait tell me more!” “i mean things like buddy is way too common here. some random old guys will call me that and it always throws me off??” “yeah they always say it so demeaning,” hamzah laughs. “do you guys actually say ‘eh?’ all the time? i feel like i haven’t noticed it a lot.” you ask genuinely. “i won't lie.. i say it more often than i like to admit!” mandy says. you’ve noticed that no matter if you’re the one speaking or not hamzah’s eyes keep glancing and sometimes full on staring at you (he really doesn’t mean to but he thinks he’s finally processing that you’re actually here with them after months of wanting this) you're flattered nonetheless.

at some point hamzah and martin recreate a scene in lady and the tramp, successfully slurping at the same noodle until hamzah retreats and martin sighs at his lack of commiting to the bit. you laugh along before asking hamzah’s to share a noodle with you with a smile slapped over your face, “me next?” he fights off any blushing with a roll of his eyes and his response of, “yeah? ask me again in a sec.”

after you’ve all finished eating, you complete the video with a big smile and a promise of more collaborations in the future.

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“Before you could respond to Mandy, a knock sounded at the door. She swung it open without hesitation, revealing Hamzah leaning lazily against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "You guys settled in?" he asked, glancing between you and Mandy. "Yep! And we're already planning to hit the pool later," Mandy said, grinning. Hamzah’s gaze flickered to you. “You swimming?” You shrugged. “Maybe. What about you? Are you guys joining us?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll let Martin know.” Then, shifting back into his usual laid-back demeanor, he leaned against the doorframe. “Anyway, Martin wants to start filming soon. Meet us in the lounge in twenty?” Mandy gave him a thumbs-up. "Got it." As soon as he walked off, Mandy turned to you with a knowing look. "You so like him." You scoffed. "Do not." She just grinned. "Sure, sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

After filming wrapped up, the four of you finally made your way down to the pool. The area was stunning—soft lighting, crystal-clear water, and a view of the city skyline beyond the glass walls. You emerged from the changing room in your—kinda tiny bikini—adjusting the straps as you followed Mandy toward the poolside. The water reflected the golden lights, casting rippling patterns across the tiled floor. You glanced up just in time to catch Hamzah’s reaction.

He had been mid-conversation with Martin, but the second his eyes landed on you, his words stalled. His jaw tensed, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. Mandy, of course, noticed immediately. She leaned toward you, whispering, “Oh, he so wasn’t ready for that.” You felt your face heat up but ignored her, pretending not to notice the way Hamzah’s gaze kept flickering back to you when he thought you weren’t looking. Martin and Hamzah jumped into the pool, splashing water everywhere. After a minute, you slowly dip into the pool with Mandy, the water was warm as you surfaced, running your hands over your face to wipe away the droplets clinging to your eyes. You pushed your wet hair back, blinking a few times to adjust to the pool lights.

Hamzah was talking to Martin about something, but the second you surfaced, his words completely died in his throat. His gaze flickered to you, just for a second, but it was enough to make his pulse stutter. His eyes traced the way your wet hair clung to your neck and collarbone, the way droplets of water slid down your skin, disappearing beneath the fabric of your bikini. And that damn bikini, so tight on you, wasn’t doing him any favours. It hugged your curves perfectly, molding to your body.

He leaned back against the pool’s edge, stretching an arm over the ledge like he couldn’t care less. But his fingers curled slightly, a small betrayal of the heat creeping under his skin. Mandy, ofcourse, smirked. “Hamzah, you good? You look kinda—flustered.” He exhaled through his nose, side-eyeing my Mandy. “It’s a heated pool, Mandy.” "Right," she hummed, clearly not buying it. You arched a brow at him, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You sure?" Hamzah met your gaze evenly this time, masking any trace of his wandering thoughts. He smirked, easy and practiced. "Why? You worried about me?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes before pushing off the ledge, swimming to the other side with Mandy.

Hamzah finally let out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the pool’s edge. His body still felt warm—too warm—but his expression stayed cool, unreadable. Martin said something, but Hamzah barely registered it, nodding absentmindedly as he dragged a hand through his wet hair. You swam over to Mandy, laughing about something, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. And maybe that was the worst part—how effortless it was for you. How you weren’t even trying, and yet, here he was, gripping the edge of the pool a little too hard just to keep his thoughts in check.

After a while, Mandy stretched her arms over her head, sighing. “Alright, I’m getting out. My fingers are all wrinkly.”You laughed, glancing down at your own pruned fingertips. “Yeah, same.” Pushing off the pool’s edge, you made your way to the steps, water cascading down your body as you stepped out. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver slightly as you reached for a towel. His gaze followed the slow trail of water sliding down your back, the way your bikini clung to you, emphasizing everything. He swallowed, shifting his jaw like it would somehow fix the heat creeping into his chest. Martin said something beside him, but Hamzah barely heard it. “You guys coming?” Hamzah cleared his throat, forcing his expression into something neutral. “Yeah, in a bit.” You hummed in acknowledgment, following Mandy toward the lounge chairs to grab your things.

As soon as you walked off, Martin shot Hamzah a knowing look. “You’re staring, bro.” Hamzah scoffed, leaning back against the pool’s edge. “No, I’m not.” Martin smirked. “Sure.” Hamzah rolled his eyes, pushing himself up out of the water in one smooth motion. He reached for his towel, rubbing it through his wet hair before draping it around his shoulders. “We heading up?” Martin grinned. “Yeah. Before you embarrass yourself any further.”

Back in your room, the soft hum of the AC filled the air as you stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying your hair while Mandy rifled through her suitcase. “So,” she said casually, holding up two of her dresses. “Are we going cute or fancy tonight?” You glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know, i’m not trying to impress anyone.” She wiggled her brows at you through the mirror. “It’s a fancy ass restaurant Y/N!! Plus, I wasn’t the one getting eye-fucked in the pool.” Your mouth dropped open. “Mandy!” She only laughed, pointing at the silky dress on your bed. “Wear this. You’ll shut Hamzah up real fast.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, your cheeks already warm.

Hamzah sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor like it might help him get his head right. He wasn’t sure why his chest felt tight—wasn’t like this was a date. Just dinner. Just the four of them. Still, he couldn’t shake the heat sitting low in his stomach, the way his thoughts kept circling back to the pool. To you. The knock came sharp and quick. He stood a little too fast, hand already on the door handle before his thoughts could catch up. When he opened it and saw you and Mandy standing there, that tension in his chest pulled tighter. “Hey! We’re ready!” You smiled at him. “Hey…you look good” he said before he could stop himself. “Thanks, you too” your cheeks flushed at his compliment, then suddenly Martin comes at the door. “Right, so let’s go then ladies!”

The elevator ride to the rooftop was quiet. Mandy and Martin chatted about the menu, tossing out guesses on what kind of dishes the place might have. You stood beside Hamzah, close enough that your perfume reached him in waves—sweet, clean, and way too distracting. He didn’t say much, hands tucked into his pockets, jaw relaxed like he was perfectly unbothered. When the doors opened, the rooftop glowed under strings of soft lights, the city skyline glittering around the glass edges of the restaurant. A hostess led you all to a sleek corner table with plush seating and a perfect view. You slid in next to Mandy, leaving the space across from you open—and of course, Hamzah took it. He settled in with one arm draped along the back of Martin’s chair, legs stretched out just enough to brush against yours under the table. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. But he didn’t move either.

The four of you scanned the menus, the quiet clinking of silverware and soft jazz filling the rooftop air. Mandy and Martin had fallen into another back-and-forth about what they were ordering, their conversation light and easy. You chimed in here and there, but your attention kept drifting back to Hamzah, across from you. His eyes weren’t on the menu. They were on you. Only for a second. Then he looked down again, fingers tapping against the glass of water in front of him like he needed to keep them busy.

Under the table, his knee was still pressed lightly against yours. It wasn’t much—barely anything, really—but you could feel the warmth of it. Feel the way neither of you had pulled away. “So,” Mandy said suddenly, eyeing the appetizers, “are we sharing or we just get what we want?” Martin grinned. “I’m starving. I don’t care.” You laughed, glancing at the menu again. “I’m good with sharing.” “I bet you are,” Martin said to you with a smirk. “You always pretend you’re not that hungry and then steal fries.” “That’s a lie,” you said, smiling at him. “It was one fry.” “One, she says” Mandy muttered, nudging you.

While they kept going, you felt it again—that shift. Hamzah’s eyes on you. You looked up to meet them this time. “What?” you asked softly, your voice just above the ambient music.He didn’t smile. Just tilted his head a little. “Nothing.” But there was something in his tone—like whatever he wasn’t saying sat heavy behind his teeth. Your legs shifted under the table, and his knee nudged yours again. This time, it didn’t feel accidental. Your breath caught, but you played it off, busying yourself with the edge of your dress.

The evening had dragged on longer than expected, the dinner filling with casual chatter and jokes, but underneath it all, the energy between you and Hamzah never quite settled. Every stolen glance, every near touch, every time he smirked or looked at you a little too long—it was all too much, too slow, but somehow still not enough. Finally, Martin, who had been quietly sipping his drink all night, let out a loud, drawn-out laugh. “I’m feeling it... I’m definitely feeling it” he slurred, trying to hold himself steady against the back of his chair. Mandy raised an eyebrow. “You good, Martin?” she asked, though it was clear she knew the answer. He swayed slightly before nodding. “Yeah, yeah... I think I need to sleep this one off. Mandy, you’re coming, right?” Mandy rolled her eyes but nodded. “Of course. Come on.”They stood up, and Mandy helped guide a stumbling Martin toward the door. The moment they left, the room fell quieter, and you and Hamzah were left behind. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. There was a pause. The tension between you was intense.

“Well,” you said, shifting in your seat slightly, trying to play it cool. “Guess we should probably head up too.” Hamzah didn’t immediately respond, still leaning back in his chair with a lazy tilt of his head. Then, with an almost lazy smile, he pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, I guess so. Lead the way.” When you turned to head for the elevator, he followed close behind, but the silence in the hall was thick. The distant sound of your footsteps echoed, and each step made it feel like you were both trying to outrun something you weren’t ready to face. As you reached the elevator, you hit the button. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and the two of you stepped inside. It was cramped, the kind of intimate space where you couldn’t help but be aware of every inch of the other person. The air felt charged, heavy, with neither of you speaking as the doors closed behind you.

You could feel Hamzah standing close beside you, just a few inches away, his presence unmistakable. His gaze flickered toward you briefly, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. "So," you say, trying to break the silence, your voice coming out a little quieter than you’d meant. "Quite the night, huh?" Hamzah glances over at you, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, more than I expected. Martin’s... interesting when he’s had a bit to drink." You let out a small laugh. "I know. He’s a handful." There’s another brief silence. You glance at him, then quickly look away, focusing on the numbers above the door as they tick upward. "You're quiet tonight" you say softly. Hamzah shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "Just thinking," he murmurs. You raise a brow. “About what?” He hesitates, then shrugs, looking back toward the elevator doors. “You.”

You try to laugh it off, but your voice comes out uneven. “What about me?” He glances at you again, slower this time. “How you looked tonight. How you always look.” You look away, heat rising to your cheeks. The air feels thicker now, harder to breathe. The elevator hums beneath your feet. You can feel how close he is—your arms nearly brushing, his warmth impossible to ignore. “You know” you say after a pause, your voice quieter, “you don’t usually say stuff like that.” Hamzah leans slightly toward you. Not touching—but so close it feels like a touch. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think it.” Your breath catches in your throat, heart thudding against your ribs like it wants out. You glance up at him again—slowly this time—and he’s already looking at you, that half-lidded gaze unreadable but intense. “Why now?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. His lips twitch slightly, but it’s not quite a smile. “Because if I don’t say something tonight, I’m gonna regret it.”Your pulse stutters. The elevator hums softly, rising toward your floor at an infuriatingly slow pace. The air between you vibrates with unspoken things, with every almost-touch that’s happened all day. Every stolen glance. Every lingering second.

“You looked… so fucking good at the pool” Hamzah says quietly, voice rougher now, lower. “And then tonight—” He shakes his head once, like the memory itself frustrates him. “It’s been driving me crazy.” You swallow hard., cheeks turning red. “I’ve been trying to play it cool,” he admits, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth before flicking back up. “But you make it hard.” The elevator dings softly as it passes another floor. Almost there. And suddenly, the knowledge that you’re running out of time crashes over you. You shift to face him more fully, your back brushing against the mirrored wall. “Show me then” you whisper. “How crazy i drive you.” Hamzah doesn’t move right away. His jaw flexes once, and then he steps in closer, slow and deliberate, until there’s barely an inch between you. His hand comes up, resting just beside your head on the wall behind you, not quite touching but close enough to make you dizzy. “I want to kiss you,” he says, voice deep, looking up at your eyes. “Can i?”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly your mouths are crashing together, urgent and messy and hot. You gasp into him, and he swallows the sound, his hands finally landing on your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself as your back hits the cool metal of the elevator wall. His mouth moves over yours like he’s starving—deep, slow, then faster when you tug him closer. One of his hands drifts down, sliding under the hem of your dress, feeling your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin like he wants to memorize the shape of you.

You make a soft sound, and he groans into your mouth in response, the kiss turning hotter, heavier, his body pressing into yours like he can’t get close enough. Then all of a sudden-ding! The elevator doors open to your floor. You both break apart just barely, breathing hard, eyes locked. Neither of you moves right away. Hamzah’s chest is still pressed to yours, his hand resting against your thigh under your dress, like he forgot to pull away—or didn’t want to. You can feel his breath against your cheek, heavy and warm, and when he finally speaks, it’s in a voice so low it’s practically a growl. “You gonna walk” he murmurs, “or you want me to carry you?”

Your lips part, breath hitching as you start to respond,but you don’t get the chance. Suddenly, his arm wraps around your waist and the other around your legs, and you gasp as he lifts you like it’s nothing. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck, your dress riding up slightly as he holds you close. “Hamzah” you breathe, the sound caught somewhere between a warning and a plea. He doesn’t answer. He just starts walking, carrying you down the quiet hallway like he knows exactly where you’re going—and it’s the only place he’s been trying to get to all night.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you cling to him, chest to chest, your lips brushing his jaw as you glance up. His eyes stay fixed ahead, his grip strong. When you reach your room, he pauses just outside the door. Gently, he lowers you to your feet, hands lingering at your waist, his breath still coming fast and shallow against your cheek. Fumbling slightly, you swipe the keycard. The lock clicks. And you barely wait for the door to swing open before your hand curls around his shirt, pulling him in with you.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, his mouth is on yours again—rougher this time, sloppy. Like now that he has you alone, he’s not holding anything back. The door clicks shut behind you, and then it’s like something snaps. He crowds you back against it without breaking the kiss, his hands gripping your waist, then sliding lower—down your hips, your thighs, tugging your dress up as his mouth devours yours. It’s all heat and teeth and tongue. You moan into him, fingers tangling in his shirt, tugging it up over his head. He barely breaks the kiss to yank it off, tossing it somewhere behind him before he’s on you again, mouth moving along your jaw, down your neck. His teeth graze your skin, and he sucks on the soft skin, leaving a mark.

“I’ve been thinking about this for months” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and low and desperate. “Thinking about you. How you sound. How you taste.” His hands find the backs of your thighs, lifting you again, only this time, he walks you straight to the bed. You cling to him, your dress hiked up, legs wrapped around his waist as he lowers you onto the mattress, his body following, pressing you down into the sheets. You look up at him, chest heaving, lips parted. “Then stop thinking,” you whisper, “and do something about it. That’s all it takes.

His hands are everywhere on your body. He quickly takes your dress off, tossing it away, the cold air of the room hardening your bare nipples. His eyes drop, and for a moment, all he does is stare. He can’t believe you’re real, laid out beneath him like this. “Fuck” he breathes, voice strained. Then he slowly lowers himself and his mouth wraps around one of your nipples. You gasp, arching into him as his tongue swirls, soft at first, then rougher, teasing. His hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the nipple as his lips close around the other, sucking with slow pressure that has your back lifting off the mattress.

“Hamzah,” you whisper, your voice already wrecked. “Please, want more” Hamzah lifts his head slightly, his mouth glistening from where he’d been sucking on your nipple, eyes dark with heat. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough. “You want more?” His hand trails slowly down your stomach, the pads of his fingers caressing your soft skin until they disappear beneath the thin waistband of your panties. The moment his fingers dip lower, he groans under his breath. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” His touch is light at first—just two fingers sliding between your folds, collecting the slick that’s already gathered there.

You jolt slightly, breath hitching, whining softly, hips twitching up toward his hand. His other arm braces beside your head, keeping him hovered over you as his fingers begin to move, slow and teasing, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. After a minute he pulls back just enough to sit up on his knees, tugging your panties down your legs in one smooth motion. He drops them somewhere behind him without looking, gaze fixed between your thighs now spread open just for him. Hamzah leans in again, settling between your legs, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them wider.

A deep sigh leaves his mouth at the sight of you, then lowers his head, and licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy. You cry out, hips jerking, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth latches onto your clit, tongue swirling, then flattening, then flicking in perfect rhythm while his hands pin you down. He eats you like he’s starving, like he’s waited too long and finally, finally gets to have you. Your hands move to his hair, gripping tight, and he groans into you at the pull, tongue working deeper, faster, until your thighs start to shake around his head. He doesn’t stop. Not when you whimper his name like that. Not even when your hips begin to roll against his mouth, desperate and mindless.

He just holds you open and keeps licking—slow, messy, relentless. You're right on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your core, your thighs trembling around his head “Hamzah,” you gasp, voice high and needy. “Fuck—I’m gonna—” And he stops. He pulls back suddenly, his mouth wet, lips slick with you. You make a broken sound, halfway between a moan and a protest, hips still twitching in the air like your body’s chasing the orgasm he just stole from you. He looks up at you, flushed and breathless. “Nah,” he pants, voice hoarse. “Not like that. I wanna feel you when you cum.”

He’s already pushing his sweats down, cock thick, hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he crawls over you. Your legs part without second thought, welcoming him, and he grabs himself at the base, dragging the head slowly through your soaked folds. You whimper at the contact, hips tilting up, desperate. Hamzah hisses through his teeth. “Fuck—you’re so wet, baby.” Then he pushes in. The stretch steals the air from your lungs. He’s thick, filling you slow but deep, making you feel every inch as your walls clench around him. Your hands reach for his back, nails sinking into his skin.

He groans deep in his throat, forehead dropping to yours. “Shit—you feel so fucking good.” When he bottoms out, he pauses, buried to the hilt, letting you both feel it—how full you are, how tight, how perfect it fits. Then he starts to move. Slow at first, grinding deep, each thrust deliberate, dragging against that sensitive spot that makes your legs tremble. You gasp his name again, and that’s all it takes—he snaps his hips harder, faster, setting a rhythm that’s rough and needy and so goddamn good it knocks the thoughts from your head. Your body arches into him, mouth falling open, his lips brushing yours, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

“Can’t believe it took us—fuck—so long to do this” his voice deep and unstable. Your body tightens beneath him, every nerve lit up like fire, and Hamzah doesn’t let up. His hips snap into you, fast and deep, filling you over and over. He’s panting against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, like he can’t bear to be any farther than skin-to-skin “That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick and wrecked. “Taking me so fucking well,made for me.” You whimper at his words, thighs trembling around his waist, fingernails digging into his back as the pleasure builds hard in your abdomen. Every thrust knocks the breath out of you, and the way he looks at you—like you’re his, like there’s nothing else in the world but you—pushes you right to the edge. “Hamzah—fuck—I’m close—”

He drives into you even deeper, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot that makes you cry out. “Cum for me,” he groans against your ear. “Be a good girl and cum. Let me feel you.” And you do. Your whole body shakes, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave crashing so hard it makes you sob his name. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him so tight he swears under his breath. He brings his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply and passionately, leaving both of you breathless. “Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m—please, can i fill you up?” You quickly nod, and cling onto him tighter. “Please, i need you” you whine in his ear. His rhythm stutters, hips jerking once, twice—then he’s spilling inside you, thick and hot, buried as deep as he can get. He curses again, low and breathless, holding you tight as he throbs inside you.

He doesn’t move for a long moment, just stays there, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting, skin slick with sweat and still trembling from the high. His nose brushes yours, and for a moment, everything is quiet but the sound of your breathing and the dull thrum of your racing heartbeats. Then, slowly, gently, he kisses you again—this time softer, slower, but still desperate. Like he’s trying to say everything he doesn’t have words for. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough but full of concern as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head immediately, pulling him down for another kiss. “No,” you whisper against his lips. “I feel perfect.” He smiles at your words, so full of love that it makes your chest ache. He finally pulls out of you carefully, murmuring a quiet apology at the sensitivity, and disappears for a second to grab a towel from the bathroom. When he returns, he kneels between your legs, his touch gentle as he cleans you up, his eyes flicking to your face every few seconds to make sure you’re okay. Once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and climbs back into bed beside you, tugging the duvet up around both your bodies.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in close, tucking your head beneath his chin. His other hand finds yours under the covers, fingers lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs into your hair. “Wanted you. For so long.” You smile sleepily, fingers trailing over his bare chest. “You have me,” you say softly. “You’ve always had me.” He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you tighter. “Not letting you go now,” he whispers. “Not ever.” And with your legs tangled together and his heartbeat steady under your cheek, you fall asleep in his arms, warm, safe and more his than you’ve ever been.

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