you already know that i’m yours ft. hamzahthefantastic
sypnosis: at a loud house party, hamzah’s effortless charm draws attention from everyone-including people who aren't you. jealousy simmers, but when you finally confront him, he reminds you with infuriating confidence that he's already yours. a soft, possessive moment follows, where jealousy turns into reassurance and belonging.
paring: hamzah x reader
genres: romance, slight, angst, jealousy, fluff
the music in the living room was loud, bass-heavy, the kind that crawled under your skin and made everything feel too close. you’d been nursing the same drink for over an hour, perched on the arm of the couch while hamzah moved through the party like it belonged to him.
and that was the problem.
he wasn’t doing anything technically wrong. he never was. he was just… hamzah. relaxed confidence, crooked smiles, that stupidly smooth way he talked that made people lean in without realizing it. you watched him by the kitchen now, shoulder against the counter, talking to two girls you vaguely recognized. one laughed a little too loud, fingers brushing his forearm as if it was nothing. he didn’t pull away. if anything, he dipped his head closer, voice low, private—like he was letting them in on something special.
your grip tightened around your glass.
you tried to focus on your phone, scrolling aimlessly, but your eyes kept snapping back to him. the way his smile lingered. the way he tilted his head when he listened. it twisted something sharp and ugly in your stomach.
eventually, the group drifted back toward the couch. hamzah dropped down beside you like the universe hadn’t just personally offended you. his arm stretched along the backrest, fingers brushing your shoulder. you didn’t lean in. you stayed stiff, sipping your drink like it was the only thing keeping you together.
“you bored?” he asked, casual. teasing. his knee nudged yours.
“i’m fine,” you said too fast.
he glanced at you, eyebrow lifting. “yeah? don’t sound fine.”
you kept your eyes on your cup. one of the girls waved from across the room. hamzah waved back easily, that same smile still on his lips.
your jaw clenched. unbelievable.
by the time the party started thinning out, your mood had settled into something cold and tight. outside, the night air bit through the warmth clinging to your skin. you stood a few steps away from him, silent, replaying everything whether you wanted to or not.
he stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “okay. talk to me.”
you finally looked up. “you don’t have to flirt with everyone to be nice, you know.”
his brows knit together, then a half-smile tugged at his mouth. “what?”
“you were all over them,” you snapped, arms crossing.
he laughed softly, shaking his head. “baby… why are you acting like you don’t already know?”
“know what?”
he closed the space between you, hand settling at your waist like it belonged there. like you belonged there. “that you’re mine.”
the way he said it—easy, sure—made your jealousy feel small, almost silly. you shook your head anyway. “hamzah, that’s not the point.”
he tilted his head, studying you, eyes dark but amused. “it is the point. i go home with you. always. so what’s got you worked up?”
you hated how much the warmth of his palm grounded you. hated how your pulse betrayed you. he tipped your chin up with two fingers, smile slowing into something heavier, more dangerous.
“no one else gets me like you do,” he murmured. “be mad if you want, princess. i’m still yours.”
by the time you got back to his place, he was fully in remind-you mode. tugging you into his lap, mouth at your neck between words, voice low and confident.
“mine,” he murmured. “don’t forget that.”
and the worst part? you never did. he was cocky, infuriating, smug—an absolute problem.
your problem.
you huffed softly, half resisting, half melting anyway. “you’re so annoying.”
he grinned against your skin. “yeah. you love it.”
he leaned back just enough to look at you, hands sliding up your sides, slow, deliberate, daring you to pull away. when you didn’t, his smile deepened.
“tell me you know you’re mine.”
you swallowed. “i know—”
he leaned closer. “say it like you mean it.”
you grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulling him in until your foreheads touched. “i’m yours.”
his smile softened, satisfied. “good. and i’m yours.”
he kissed you then—slow, deep, unhurried—like nothing else existed. when he pulled back, his lips still brushed yours.
“next time you get jealous,” he murmured, arms tightening around you, “don’t wait. come take me.”
you scoffed, tapping his chest. “you’d like that.”
he smirked. “yeah. i would.”
and when you shifted, his hold only tightened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
right there.
with him.
please do not motify my works.
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