#slushyvirus

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him while greeting him with a kiss. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past.

For Hamzah, it had more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.” My voice started to shake

Pull it together.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. All those hoodies look the same, part of the reason we sold so many.”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

hamzah x reader smut...nsfw warning

hi everyone!

below is my first ever smut so please be nice!

it ends on a pretty big cliffhanger so let me know if yall want a part 2. and i hate coming up with my own ideas so pleaseeeee send me prompts i will love you forever.

summary: you and hamzah are roommates and best friends. but when hamzah comes home pissed one day, y'all hash it out and things get heated.

warnings: nsfw under cut. if you are under the age of 18, do NOT read please.

word count: 3076

Also nnn mentioned. Don’t read if yk u don’t like this kind of stuff and yeah it’s nasty but alright! Enjoy!

Summary: Y/n is the manager for Slushy Noobz. She loves being apart of such an entertaining team. Being the manager came with a lot of responsibility. However, she was finding it hard to stay professional when Hamzah was around.

a/n: i hope this concept reaches the corporate baddies, enjoy <3

—-

The room buzzed with focused energy as everyone prepped for Hamzah and Martin’s big boxing match. Y/n stood at the edge of the practice room, clipboard in hand, eyes fixed on the monitor as she tracked every play with precision. Managing Slushy Noobz with their growing and dedicated fanbase was both a privilege and a challenge—one of those challenges being the guy currently making a beeline straight for her.

Hamzah.

She exhaled sharply, looking away and pretending to be engrossed in her notes. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go bother someone else.

No such luck.

“You look stressed,” Hamzah said as he stopped next to her, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. “That’s probably because you know the viewers are gonna be bored after I sweep this match.”

Y/n sighed, giving him a side glance. “Or because I know you and Martin are going to be running around bald soon," you said shaking your head, "there goes your TikTok edits.

Hamzah smirked. “That too.”

She had to bite back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leaned slightly against the desk, glancing at her clipboard. “You actually writing useful stuff, or just pretending to look busy so no one bothers you?”

She huffed. “I don’t pretend to work—I actually do my job.”

He knew this, he just liked to push your buttons.

“Good for you.” He nodded approvingly. “That’s one of us.”

Y/n finally looking up at him. “You’re impossible.”

Hamzah grinned, then tilted his head slightly. “By the way, you've been acting real serious whenever I’m around recently. What’s up with that?”

He was onto her. This wasn't entirely untrue, Y/n had slowly started avoiding Hamzah as her feelings became harder to ignore. This made her feel slightly guilty, but it was the measures she had to take to keep her job.

“Because I have responsibilities?” she shot back while keeping her eyes fixated on the computer in front of her.

He made a face. “Yeah, yeah. Or maybe you just don’t know how to act around me.”

Your eyes finally met his as your mouth opened—then closed. He said it so casually like he was commenting on the weather.

"He's just joking", you told yourself

His dark humourous eyes bore into yours as he patiently waited for a response. Before she could formulate a response, Martin called out, “Yo, Y/n! Can you come over here for a sec!”

Y/n took the escape without hesitation. “Duty calls,” she muttered, turning on her heel.

Hamzah watched her get up before he called after her. “Miss you already!”

As she ignored him, she couldn't help but replay that last comment over and over again in her head.

"Or maybe you just don’t know how to act around me."

She didn’t need to dignify that with a response. Mostly because he wasn’t wrong.

---

That evening, you were finishing up an email to a potential sponsor. (There were hundreds of them.) Y/n had just clicked send when Hamzah dropped into the seat next to her.

“So,” he said, resting his elbow on the table. “You avoid me all day just to end up being the last one here. Interesting.”

She groaned. “I did not avoid you.”

“You literally left mid-conversation.”

“Because I had work to do!”

He took a slow sip of his protein shake, eyeing her over the rim. “Uh-huh.”

She scowled. “Not everything is about you, Hamzah.”

“Big talk, considering I’m basically the headliner of this team.”

Y/n let out an exasperated laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “And yet, your working for me.”

She rolled her eyes, focusing on her computer, but Hamzah’s voice cut through again—quieter this time.

“For real, though,” he said, “I mess with you a lot, but you know I actually mean it when I say you’re good at what you do, right?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “…Thanks?”

“Don’t get weird about it.” He went back to scrolling on his phone like he hadn’t just said something out of character.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.

Hamzah might be blunt. He might be insufferable.

But damn it, he was also kind of impossible to ignore.

---

Hamzah x (fem)reader

Description: It's the reader's birthday and she decided to host a "rager". Her friends are skeptical as she's never been interested in hosting parties. Little do they know, it was all planned with the hope that one person in particular would make an appearance.

a/n: I'm sure you can tell from my profile pic that I'm a huge Charli fan lol. This idea came to me as I was playing this album on repeat. Hope y'all enjoy <3

---

The bass thumped against the walls, the thick air overbearing with the smell of spilled drinks and hot bodies. You had never been one for house parties—especially not the kind filled with strangers you barely knew. But this made the party all that much more appealing right? Tonight was different.

Tonight was a gamble.

Your friends had raised their eyebrows when you’d proposed the idea. "Since when do you throw parties?" Taylor had asked, skepticism lacing her tone. You’d only shrugged, feigning nonchalance, while anticipation clawed at your ribs. You have just recently moved into a new apartment with lots of space, so this could be your chance to show it off. While everyone else thought this was just a random burst of spontaneity, you knew better.

You’d planned every detail of this night with one hope in mind:

that Hamzah would show up.

Hamzah had been your friend for years— at least, that was how you would describe him. You weren't even sure if he felt the same way anymore. Your friendship teetering on the edge of something more but never quite crossing that line. That was until one night you had said a few more words then you should have.

---

It had been late, just the two of you lingering in the glow of streetlights after the rest of your friends had gone home. He always walked you home.

His arms rested in his pockets as he looked down at you smiling while you recited a story you found hilarious.

"Can you believe that? She went that far all for some guy. I can't even imagine."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean, people do crazy things for the people they like."

You laughed, a little breathless, but his smile made your heart skip. It was like there was a quiet understanding between the two of you, a connection that lingered in the spaces between your words.

As we arrived at my apartment, something in the city air made me feel a bit too confident. Suddenly, words tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. "Honestly, I can only imagine going that far if he was someone like you."

Too much.

Hamzah stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape with wide eyes.

You had let your guard slip.

He hadn’t responded right away. His gaze had flickered, searching yours, his lips parting as if to say something—anything—but nothing came. The silence stretched too long, thick and suffocating, until finally, he had only managed a quiet, "I should go."

___

That was the last you had heard from him in weeks. You were too embarrassed to phone him or go by his house and apologize for making the situation so weird.

You tried not to scan the crowd too obviously, though your heart shot up each time the front door creaked open. Friends mingled, and people you barely knew were making out in corners. Almost everyone was enjoying themselves, dancing in dim lighting without a care in the world. Someone had taken control of the playlist, swapping your mix of what you liked to call, "gay club music" with Nettspend.

Still, no Hamzah.

You were starting to lose hope.

You went outside in an attempt to cool off. The view was the highlight of your new place. The city lights shined brightly as you looked down imagining what the rest of the world was doing tonight.

What he was doing.

Your head turned to see the steam rolling off the newly integrated pool on your balcony. Beside the view, it was your favorite part of the apartment, and one of the main reasons you fought so hard to secure this place. You looked back through the door you came from.

No one seemed to notice you were even gone.

You slowly removed the short dress you were wearing. As you kicked it to the side, you plunged into the warm water.

The warmth of the water wrapped around you, contrasting against the crisp night air. You let yourself float, eyes closed, taking in the sacred peacefulness. You felt your heart start to ache. You weren’t sure if it was the remnants of disappointment or the burn of anticipation that you couldn’t quite shake.

When you finally broke the surface, slicking your hair back and blinking against the city lights, your breath caught in your throat.

Hamzah was there.

Sitting by the edge of the pool, laying back on his arms, watching you with an unreadable expression. His dark eyes bore into yours with an expression almost unreadable The golden glow of the city cast soft shadows across his face, making the moment feel almost unreal.

You suddenly became acutely aware of your lack of clothes.

Your stomach twisted as embarrassment crept up your spine. You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, to maybe make a joke and defuse the tension, but nothing came out. He beat you to it.

“You always do this,” he said in a deep but quiet voice.

Your brows knitted together. “Do what?”

“Run away.”

You swallowed hard, shifting in the water as you hugged your arms around yourself. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

Hamzah let out a breath, shaking his head. “I wasn’t. I just… I needed to think.”

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure what to say to that. The air between you buzzed with an unspoken weight, the memory of your last encounter hanging between you like a feeling you couldn't shake.

Then, in the silence, he said it.

“I like you.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he continued, his voice softer now, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to say it. “And I freaked out when you got close because I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too quickly. The warmth of the pool did nothing to ease the chill spreading through your veins—not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his words.

You started to move towards him.

Reaching for the ledge, you pushed yourself up slightly, just enough to get the bottom half of his clothes wet.

The space between you dissolves into nothing. Your fingers found his jaw, your fingers finally meeting at the side of his mouth before leaning in.

The moment his lips met yours, it was like everything clicked into place.

Your mouths moved against each other in fever as if you were both making up for lost time. Which you definitley were.

In one swift movement, he pulled you out of the water completely so that your drenched body was straddling his. The tension that had been lingering for weeks melted in the heat of the kiss. He tasted like the city night and something inherently him—something you had been wanting for longer than you cared to admit. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the slick fabric of your bra, grounding you in the reality of it all.

When you finally pulled away, foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours, you couldn’t help but smile.

"So..." Hamzah said out of breath, "Who’s the lucky guest of honor?”

You shrugged, ignoring the way your pulse betrayed you. “Dunno. Just… felt like celebrating.”

He chuckled at this, something dark in his eyes shined as he leaned in close enough for only me to hear.

“Happy birthday, then,” he murmured, voice softer now.

Maybe—just maybe—the gamble had paid off.

---

hamzah x reader

summary: The reader's friend has been trying make a move at Hamzah ever since she started seeing his online personality. While the reader tries to be a supportive friend, her feelings seem to be getting in the way of things. What if he feels the same?

this came to me in a dream, hope y'all enjoy

---

"Oh my god I can't do this"

It had been like this for almost an hour now.

You and your friend Holly were in the bathroom of Mandy and Martin's apartment. Music echoed in the background as Y/n leaned against the bathroom door tapping her foot as she started to get impatient.

"Seriously girl, just go talk to him. It's really not that deep, you're making it harder than it needs to be."

Y/n didn't care if she was being blunt it was what her friend needed to hear. She had always prided herself on being a good friend. Always offering to be the DD. Always listening to the boy's problems no matter how often she recommended the friend should just break up with him. So after Holly begged her to try and hook her up with Hamzah, the answer would obviously be yes. Why wouldn't it be? Being straightforward and honest came easy, so why did she feel she was holding something back.

She gripped the door handle once more, "Just follow my lead, it's all gonna work out."

Holly let out a sigh of relief, "Seriously Y/n.. what would I do without you."

Y/n flashed her a reassuring smile before turning with a more serious expression flashed her face. Y/n knew that this was Holly's first time actually meeting Hamzah, but it definitely wasn't hers.

Hamzah had been talking to Y/n over Instagram DM's for months now. From casual replies to story posts to sending each other random memes, it was easy to determine they would get along once they finally met each other at a party.

It was almost intimidating how well they got along, Y/n admired all the effort he put into his channel and how well he managed it all. Turns out, thousands of girls felt the same way.

With Holly's hand in yours, you searched for a familiar face through the crowd until you ran into Mandy.

She turned around looking surprised, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you two." Mandy pointed behind her, the boys have been so obsessed with that karaoke machine, I should have never purchased it."

Y/n looked past Mandy to see Hamzah and Martin singing karaoke together as if it were a competition on who could make the most noise. Hamzah wore a pink colored shirt that fit him a little too good with a hat that allowed his dark curls to peak through.

"That's a inappropriate way to describe your friend" she thought silently.

Y/n thanked Mandy before walking up to the boys with microphones. As she approached them she could feel a slight tug on her arm as she turned around to meet Holly's worried expression.

"Don't worry" she mouthed as she continued her way over to the duo. Her heart seemed to beat harder as she reached out to touch the arm of curly-haired boy. Probably due to him being the subject of the night.

As he turned to look at you, Hamzah's face practically lite up at the sight of your face.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" He reached down and hugged you with his one free hand and still held the microphone in the other. "I kept asking Mandy about where you ran off to." Y/n chuckled into the embrace. "I wasn't even gone that long,"

"Felt like ages." He muttered. Y/n tried not to think about how just one arm completely wrapped around her waist and how his fingers dug into her hips just right.

Holly cleared her throat.

"Shoot" She almost forgot why she was here.

Y/n released Hamzah with a jolt as she stepped to the side to introduce her friend, "I wanted you to meet Holly. Holly this is Hamzah, Hamzah this is Holly."

"You said that already" Holly said softly.

"Did I? Well... you get my point." Y/n looked back to Hamzah to see him he was staring back at her almost in disbelief.

Hamzah blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a daze. His usual easygoing smirk returned, and he turned to Holly with a friendly nod.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Holly hesitated for a second before shaking it, her grip noticeably stiff. Y/n could feel the tension rolling off her friend, and she silently begged Holly to just relax. This was what she wanted, right?

"You too," Holly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/n talks about you a lot."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Did she really? Before she could gauge Hamzah’s reaction, he chuckled, looking between the two girls.

"All good things, I hope?"

Y/n forced a laugh, ignoring the way her palms suddenly felt clammy. "Mostly," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "Except for the part where you butcher every song you sing."

Hamzah gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I was putting on a performance. It’s about passion, not pitch."

Martin, who had been silently watching the exchange with an amused grin, finally spoke up. "Man, you’re gonna pretend like you weren’t just screaming into the mic?"

Hamzah shrugged. "I was creating a vibe."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the slight shift in energy. She glanced at Holly, who still looked nervous but was at least smiling now. That was progress.

"Speaking of vibes," Hamzah said, tilting his head. "You’re acting different tonight."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to figure something out. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just... different."

Holly laughed, breaking the moment. "Probably because she’s been hyping me up for this conversation all night."

Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "This conversation?"

Y/n winced. So much for being subtle.

"She thinks you and Holly would make a great match," Martin chimed in, completely oblivious to the way Y/n’s stomach twisted at hearing it said out loud.

For a split second, something flickered in Hamzah’s expression—too fast for Y/n to catch. Then, he smiled. "Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded quickly. "I mean, yeah. You seem cool. And I think we’d get along?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, and Y/n resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to help, but something about this whole situation felt... off.

Hamzah glanced at Y/n again before turning back to Holly. "Well, I appreciate the intro," he said smoothly. "But I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this."

Y/n frowned. "Expect what?"

He hesitated, then grinned. "You playing matchmaker."

Her stomach dropped. There was something in the way he said it, something that made her feel like she had completely miscalculated. Before she could respond, Hamzah lifted his mic again.

"Anyway," he said, turning to Martin. "We got a song to finish."

And just like that, the moment was over.

Y/n watched as he walked away, laughing as Martin passed him the next song choice. Holly exhaled beside her.

"That wasn’t terrible," she murmured.

Y/n nodded numbly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

--

The night continued as if nothing had happened. Holly chatted away, occasionally stealing glances at Hamzah, and Y/n did her best to stay present in the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere.

She kept replaying Hamzah’s words in her head. You playing matchmaker.

Why did it sound like there was something more behind them?

After a while, Holly got up to get another drink, and Martin was too busy butchering the lyrics to some 2000s throwback to notice the way Y/n was zoning out.

That’s when she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

"Hey," Hamzah said, voice lower than usual.

Y/n turned to him with a surprised look plastered on her face. "...Hey."

He exhaled, drumming his fingers on the table. "So... Holly, huh?"

Y/n forced a smile. "Yeah. She’s great, right?"

Hamzah tilted his head, studying her. "She seems nice."

There was something careful about his tone, something measured. Y/n suddenly felt exposed, like he could see right through her.

"You don’t seem convinced," she pointed out.

He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s not that." He paused, then shook his head. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Y/n’s stomach tightened. "Okay?"

Hamzah leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to set me up with someone else?"

Her breath hitched. Feeling as though she had just been accused of murder. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes searched hers, serious now. "Is it because you actually think we’d be good together? Or because you’re trying to convince yourself of something?"

Y/n’s pulse quickened. "That’s not—"

"Because if it’s the second one," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "then I need you to tell me right now."

Y/n swallowed hard. The air around them felt heavier, charged. "Hamzah, I was just trying to—"

"To ignore this?" he interrupted.

She froze.

Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, as if frustrated with himself. "Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I thought maybe I was imagining things. But then you tried to push me toward Holly, and all I could think was—why would you do that? Unless you were trying to avoid something."

Y/n’s heart was pounding now.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t rushed. Just quiet, steady.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he said. "Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll drop it."

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. Because she couldn’t say it.

"What would Holly think?"

As if he could read her mind Hamzah sighed and spoke again, "Can you please stop thinking about what everyone else wants and just tell me.. what do you want?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt matched with a sudden urge to jump on top of the boy in front of her.

Hamzah exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Y/n, I like you."

The words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You—"

"I like you," he repeated, softer this time. "Not Holly. Not anyone else. And I think... I think you feel the same way."

Y/n felt like the entire world had just shifted.

Because, for the first time, she couldn’t run from it.

But she was done running.

Y/n placed her hand on the side of Hamzah's face and pulled him in for a kiss that made her forget about every person that could be watching around her.

He matched her vigor as their lips moved against each other with fever. His free hand grabbed at her waist as if it would disappear if he let it go for too long while his other hand softly ran up and down the arm still cupping his face.

Y/n broke the kiss with a shaky breath as she finally spoke, "I like you too."

The moment the words left her lips, something in Hamzah’s expression shifted. Relief. Something deeper.

"You do?" he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I do."

A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Then why were you trying to set me up with Holly?"

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Because I was just trying to make everyone happy. I thought... I don't know, I thought the two of you might have got along and I figured that was more important than what I wanted."

Hamzah chuckled, tugging her hand away from her face. "You really thought that would work?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. "It was worth a shot."

He shook his head, amused. "Y/n, I’ve only ever had eyes for you."

She felt her breath hitch at these words.

"From the moment we met," he continued, his voice quieter now, "it’s always been you."

Y/n felt her heart squeeze.

Banned

a/n: my first request and I am here to deliver- enjoy <3

---

The light of the camera beamed down on Hamzah like an interrogation lamp. His jaw clenched as he stared at the blinking red record button.

Off-camera, hidden just out of view, Y/n perched behind him on the couch, one leg tucked under her and the other resting against his side. Her presence was silent but very much felt—especially with the way her hand had wrapped firmly around the back of his neck, fingers pressing just enough to make him sit up straighter.

Hamzah inhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way she lazily traced patterns against his skin. “I hate this app, man,” he muttered under his breath.

Y/n leaned in just enough for him to hear her. “You love me more though, right?”

Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Unfortunately.”

Her nails dragged slightly down his neck, making him tense. “Then say it.”

He shot a glare at the phone, lips pressed into a thin line. This was humiliating. The end of an era. His comment section had been a lawless wasteland of chaos and unhinged admiration, and now… he was about to rip that all away.

All because his wonderful girlfriend didn’t appreciate thousands of strangers thirsting over him.

Hamzah exhaled sharply through his nose, staring into the camera like it personally offended him. “I need y’all to stop commenting ‘raw, next question’ under all my videos.” His voice was flat, deadpan. A man defeated.

Y/n hummed from behind him, fingers tightening slightly. “Why?”

Hamzah rolls his eyes to the ceiling, inhaling like he’s gathering every ounce of patience in his body. “Because I’m in a relationship, and I believe in the fundamental principles of commitment and the mutual respect that forms a relationship.” You could hear the smirk growing in his voice, “I’m also being forced to say this.”

Y/n’s grip grew tighter as Hamzah audibly winced. Hamzah looked away from the camera to fein an innocent look. “Isn’t there one more thing?” Y/n hummed as she ran her nails down Hamzah’s neck causing a soft shiver to roll down his spine. His facade cracked for a split second before he cleared his throat, forcing a nonchalant expression.

“You sure you’re not just making things up now?” he teased, though his voice betrayed him.

Y/n smirked, tilting her head. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Hamzah sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine,” he muttered before turning back to the camera, knowing there was no escaping this one.

“Also… I’m in love with my girlfriend.” Hamzah stops the video and stares at the screen like it holds the weight of his dignity.

"I hope your happy." were his final words as his thumb hovers over the ‘Post’ button before finally pressing on what felt like a nuclear launch button.

Y/n plants a quick kiss on his cheek, hands now playing with the curls on his neck. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“There goes my single-guy persona,” he mutters, watching the screen like it might explode.

Y/n chuckles, fingers still lazily twisting his curls. “Oh please, like anyone believed that in the first place.”

Hamzah exhales dramatically, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Let me have my delusions in peace.”

“Not a chance,” Y/n grins, stealing another kiss. This time, her mouth meeting his. “You’re officially off the market—better get used to it.”

Hamzah rolls his eyes, but the small, helpless smile tugging at his lips betrays him. Despite his complaints, he knew there was no one else he’d rather ruin his so-called persona for.

---

We Listen, And We Don’t Judge (Until We Do)

a/n: I love this idea! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you enjoy <3

---

You adjust the camera, making sure the frame is just right before hitting the record. "Hey guys! I'm sure from the video title you could tell what we're playing... "We Listen, And We Don’t Judge!" you announce with a bright smile. "I had to jump on the trend, and today, I have a special guest…"

Hamzah raises a hand awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Hey, everyone… uh, yeah. I’m here. To listen. And not judge."

You and Hamzah sat on the couch of your apartment as the boy shifted uncomfortably next to you. While you had both planned to have a chill night in, Y/n convinced him to make a video on her TikTok account before they went out to get the food. Little did he know, she had something up her sleeve.

You grin mischievously. "Perfect. Let's get into it."

"We listen, and we don't judge," you both say in unison, humor lacing your tone as Hamzah gives you a quizzing look.

The first ‘confession’ pops into your mind as you say aloud. "I only pretend to like my best friend’s boyfriend, but I actually think he’s the worst person ever.’"

Hamzah tilts his head. "Wow, that’s rough... so are you just trying to be supportive?"

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a smirk. "Yeah… but, that's just how I feel you know?"

Hamzah frowns slightly. "What do you mean?"

You shrug. "You know… sometimes people just tolerate others."

He chuckles uncertainly. "You don’t mean… me, right?"

You quickly move on, continuing on to the next lie, "Okay, next one—‘I only pretend to laugh at my friend's jokes because I don't want to hurt their feelings, but honestly, they’re not funny at all.’"

Hamzah shifts beside you, his jaw tightening. "That’s… kinda mean Y/n. I mean, you should just be real."

You glance at him. "Yeah. I guess I kinda just do it to not hurt their feelings."

His face falls, just a little. "Wait. You pretend to laugh at my jokes?"

You clear your throat, pretending to move on again. "Okay, next one! ‘I once told someone I loved them, but I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want to be alone.’"

The room goes eerily silent. Hamzah looks at you, really looks at you, and his expression darkens. "...What?"

You try to laugh it off. "I mean, haven’t we all said things we didn’t fully mean?"

Hamzah leans back, his face unreadable now. "Wow. I—uh. I don’t know what to say to that."

For the first time, guilt creeps in. His usual easygoing nature is gone, replaced by something guarded. You press your lips together, suddenly regretting pushing it this far.

"Hamzah, I—" You became acutely aware of the awkward tension. "It’s a prank."

He blinks. "What?"

You force a nervous chuckle. "It’s a prank! None of these are real. I made them all up. I just wanted to see how you'd react."

Hamzah stares at you for a long moment before shaking his head. "Right. A prank."

You reach for his arm, but he pulls back slightly. Not dramatically—just enough that you feel it.

You winced. "Hamzah, I swear, I didn’t mean any of that. It was just for the video."

He runs a hand down his face and exhales. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

You frown. "Are you mad?"

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "No, just… I don’t know. You really sold it, I guess."

Your stomach twists. "Hamzah, come on. You know I’d never say anything like that for real."

He finally looks at you, eyes softer but still a little distant. "Yeah. I know. But it still kinda sucked to hear."

You swallow hard, guilt settling deep in your chest. "I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay? No more pranks like this."

He offers a small, tired smile. "Yeah. That’d be nice."

You turn back to the camera with significantly less enthusiasm. "Alright, guys, uh… maybe don’t emotionally damage your friends for content."

Hamzah forces a chuckle, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Solid advice."

You stop recording, but the following silence is heavier than you expected.

After a moment, you sigh and scoot closer to him. "Hamzah, I really am sorry. I didn’t think it would hit you like that."

He stays quiet for a beat before finally meeting your gaze. "It just… made me wonder, you know? What if you actually felt that way about me?"

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I don’t. Not even a little bit. You’re my favorite person. I’d never fake anything with you."

His lips twitch into a small smile, more real this time. "Your favorite person? Even with my terrible jokes?"

You laugh. "Especially with your terrible jokes."

He finally relaxes, shaking his head. "Alright. I forgive you. But you owe me—big time."

You grin. "Deal. I’ll buy you dinner and let you pick the movie tonight."

Hamzah sighs dramatically. "Fine. But I’m not picking a movie, we're watching all of "XO Kitty" tonight.

You lay your head back on the couch dramatically. "Ugh... I did that to myself, didn’t I?"

He chuckles, this time a real one, "Yeah. But I’ll allow it."

---