#hamzah x reader

[kiraa1221]

thinking about thug hamzah in the new camping video and @giuliannna’s dealer!hamzah

[kiraa1221]

Oh my god dude I’m ovulating holy fuck

[kiraa1221]

i’m working on a macklin nsfw alphabet and the second part to my hamzah fic omg so many things to do

[swalaylala]

guys give me recommendation of good hamzah fic, been craving a good one lately🥲. anyways if you have a good one pls tag me or comment🙏

[kiraa1221]

i’m thinking more about writing again, but i have no ideas…load my inbox pls

[milaxbae]

i need more hamzahxreader fics...like WHERE'D YALL GOOO???

[chalantzah]

send requests… if i get more than 5 actual good ones i’ll come back….

[wheeler-kissed]

just business - plug ! hamzah x reader 🚭

hamzah sold weed. among other things - but weed was what he was majorly known for. it wasn’t a bigg deal. he was just that guy on campus, the one everyone talked about but no one actually knew - hoodie pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved into his pockets, that permanent lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned against some wall or usually his car, exchanging cash and product without breaking a sweat. he was “mysterious”— or at least, that's what everyone said. girls whispered about him at parties, guys half-respected, half-feared him.

and well, you were the exact opposite.

typical good girl. straight a's (well, until recently), responsible, polite. you showed up to your classes early, highlighted your notes in three different colors, and avoided anything that even hinted at trouble. that's why it felt so wrong - so out of character - when you found yourself standing awkwardly at the edge of the campus parking lot one friday night, fingers curling nervously around your phone.

to hamzah - 9:35 pm: hey... uh, my friend gave me your number? she said you might have...stuff.

it was pathetic. you'd stared at the message for at least five minutes before pressing send, your stomach twisting into knots. this wasn't you. you weren't the kind of girl who hit up a dealer, let alone hamzah of all. but you were drowning in unfinished assignments, the stress wrapping around your chest so tight you could barely breathe, and your friend had insisted.

"it's not thaaat strong. hamzah stuff is, like, chill. trust me it'll definitely help you relax. just try it once." she explained.

you almost backed out when you saw his response pop up a minute later.

from hamzah- 9:40 pm: meet me at the lot in 10.

and that's how it started.

you'd shown up to the parking lot with your heart in your throat, barely able to make eye contact when hamzah leaned lazily against his car, hands tucked into his dark green bape hoodie pockets, looking you over with an amused tilt of his head.

hamzah had been leaning against his car, arms crossed, hoodie pulled low over his face when he saw you pull up. his brows lifted slightly - a rare show of emotion for him. he hadn't expected you of all people to show up. he knew you - or at least, he knew of you. quiet, smart, kept your head down. the last girl he'd expect to get involved with him for drugs.

but he 100% wasn't complaining of course.

women weren't really his focus. sure i mean of course girls liked him and he knew that very well - they were drawn to the quiet confidence, the lazy smirk, the whole mysterious-bad-boy thing he apparently had going for him - but he never let it get further than that. kept it casual.

but you? you were different. it didn’t take much for him to realize that. it was undeniable that he was attracted to you, even from the first time he saw you - all shy and awkward, eyes darting around nervously, hair falling into your face. cute as hell. and when you pulled up that night, gnawing on your bottom lip like you already regretted the whole thing, hamzah knew he was in trouble.

"nervous, y/n?" he'd questioned teased, with a small smile.

gosh his smile was everything.

"relax. i don't bite." he joked with his arms up in defence eyes glinting slightly from the street lights.

(that turned out to be a lie.)

but what surprised you the most was how friendly he was from the very beginning. it became frequent, you'd hit up hamzah basically every week. on friday's. after the first two weeks he basically starting waiting on the text. he must've.

from the jump immediately picked up on how new you were to the whole scene - standing there awkwardly, clutching your phone like a lifeline, eyes darting nervously to the ground. he'd smiled, easy and warm, and told you to get in his car real quick. then he pulled out a grinder and papers, telling you,

"alright, let me teach you how to roll." you were terrible at it, of course. your fingers were shaky, and the paper tore more than once. hamzah had just chuckled, hands brushing over yours as he showed you how to fold it, tuck it, roll it right. and when you finally lit it, you hadn't even known how to inhale properly - which he teased you for mercilessly.

"baby, you gotta breathe in through your mouth," he'd laughed, watching you cough.

you tensed at the nickname. it wasn't the first time he'd called you that - he threw it around so easily, so casually, like it didn't mean anything - but it always hit you differently. always made your stomach tighten uncomfortably but in a good way as if that made any sense.

it was so hard to just... relax when you were around him. he made you feel too much dizzy, overwhelmed, unsteady, again in a good exciting way?. even now, your heart was racing for no reason other than the fact that his eyes were on you, sharp and amused.

hamzah’s hand smoothed over your back while you practicallywheezed and blinked back tears. "here - " he leaned in closer.

"lemme show you."

after that, he made a habit of it. he'd often give you “discounts”, and most of the time, it was just plain out free for his “all time favourite costumer”.

he'd just shrug when you tried to pay him sometimes getting full on offended whenever you tried to offer him the money, flicking his lighter open and closed between his fingers as he said, "don't worry about it." but what made it worse - what made you hate how easy it was to fall for him the worst part being how he always stuck around afterward.

most of the time, after the exchange, he'd linger at your dorm for a bit — or sometimes you'd end up at his place instead. he never made a big deal about it. he'd sit on your bed, hoodie pulled low over his eyes, stretching his legs out and scrolling through his phone while you sat next to him, your legs curled underneath you-that was until he'd grab grab at them and drape them over his. sometimes you'd talk. sometimes you wouldn't. his company was so easy and comforting loud or quiet, so natural, you hated how much you liked it.

as cliché as it sounds, hamzah truly was nonchalant but not in the cringe way because he had more than a personality— no one apart from his friends knew his business, and he kept to himself. so whenever you were around and his smile and laugh slipped more and more along with his terribly amazing jokes, it was like seeing a whole different person. it felt... personal.

————

it was nearly 2 am on a wednesday when you heard the soft knock on your dorm room door. you sighed, pushing your laptop aside, the screen still flooded with unfinished assignments and endless tabs. your heart jumped despite yourself - you knew exactly who it was.

when you opened the door, hamzah was leaning against the frame, his dark curls peaking out prettily from under his beanie, hands still tucked into his hoodie pocket. his eyes were heavy-lidded, that same lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

"ma," he dragged out, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. his eyes flicked down to you - oversized sweater, no makeup, hair messy from stress - and his smirk softened into something quieter. "been workin' too hard again?"

"you say that like it's my fault," you shot back, but there was no real heat behind it. hamzah just chuckled, shrugging off his jacket and flopping onto your couch snuggling up to you like he always did as if he lived there. and in a way, he practically did.

"i heard you were at some party last night." you hated how bitter your voice sounded. "some girl said you were with her." you said not looking at him but fidgeting with your nails.

he stayed quiet for a couple seconds, the corners of his lips turning up. "it's just business, baby. you know that"

you hated how much that word made your chest tighten. business. like it was all so simple. like it didn't mean anything. you wondered, not for the first time, if you meant anything to hamzah at all. if he was like this with everyone - all the other girls he sold to. did he kiss them like that? stay over at their place like this? you thought about asking him, about demanding an answer - but you didn't. you were too scared of the answer. too scared that if you pressed too hard, he'd pull away entirely.

so you swallowed it down, the ache curling in your throat. you decided to keep it to yourself out of fear of losing him altogether.

hamzah’s gaze sharpened when you didn't respond seeing the bothered expression on your face. his hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair. "what?"

"nothing," you shook it off.

"you sure about that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

you nodded your head dismissively

hamzah sighed lowly before sitting up straight and making you face him.

“listen you’re my girl alright? don’t need to worry bout’ any of the other girls i’m selling to you know that” he says in a serious tone truly staring at you.

“okay….” you muttered trying to hold back a stupid smile due to the reassurance.

“we good?” he questioned earning a nod from you as the smile finally slips through.

hamzah’s gaze flicked down to your lips, his smile turning lazy again. "what am i gonna do with you, huh?"

"i don't know," you whispered.

"i do," he murmured.

and when he kissed you this time? that was anything but just business.

please do not motify my works.

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