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kirbysdreamlandd · 5 months ago

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Hiii here's one idea based on the Barnyard Eclipse Mukbang!!!

Martin has a cousin form Croatia that is visiting Canada

She gets introduced to the gang (Mandy and Hamzah) and also the slushys

They all go together to the farm to see the eclipse

Mandy n Martin get one cabin and Hamzah n Y/N another… the whole one bed trope happens 😳

They end up cuddling while talking before sleeping - in the middle of the night he gets awkwardly HARD against her and the smut comes in!!! *cabin fever*🤭

Maybe we should keep it canon that he is a hardcore virgin?!🤨

love ur writing♥️

Barnyard Eclipse Mukbang

Hamzah X Y/N (Fem)

word count: 4k - longer than I expected lol, let me know if you want a pt. 2!!

After spending your whole life in Croatia, the European life was getting boring. You’d often caught yourself daydreaming about a change, about traveling somewhere new, somewhere out of the continent.

The last time your cousins visited, they couldn’t stop bragging about their Canadian life. Martin, in particular, was insufferable with his talk about his YouTube channel. He went on and on about “Slushy Noobz” and how his videos with his friend, Hamzah, were getting more and more attention. But as annoying as his boasting was, it kind of influenced you in a way.

So, when Martin randomly offered to fly you out to Toronto, you didn’t even think twice. The idea of leaving everything familiar behind, even just for a little while was too tempting to pass up.

The moment you spotted the signs written in English and French, it finally settled in: You had just flown a full 12 hours from Croatia to Canada to visit your cousin and his girlfriend.

By the time you checked into your hotel and began to unpack, your phone buzzed with a text from Martin.

Ah, right.

You’d completely forgotten that you agreed to be in one of Martin’s next vlogs. His pitch being “You’re just as stupid as us, the Slushies are gonna love you!”. And somehow, in a moment of weakness you’d said yes.

But what Martin hadn’t mentioned was that he’d booked an Airbnb for everyone to stay in. You sighed, staring at your neatly unpacked suitcase. Tomorrow’s paid-for room was now destined to sit empty while you stayed with your cousin and his friends in whatever far countryside of Ontario he deemed “So Eclipse mukbang coded”.

Oh well. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to making videos. Back when you were both kids, you and Martin used to make YouTube videos together sneaked away into your rooms during family gatherings. They were the kind of chaotic nonsense only 10 to 12-year-olds could conjure up, that’s why years later that channel was wiped off the website, never to be seen again.

Just as you were coming to terms with the Airbnb situation, another text from Martin popped up on your phone. He casually mentioned that Mandy and Hamzah would be joining and that “for the sake of the bit” Martin and Hamzah were gonna share a queen-sized bed while you and Mandy would have to do the same. You sighed, setting your phone down before diving onto the hotel room’s neatly-made bed.

As much as you tried to downplay it, you always enjoyed Martin’s company. Sure, he could be overwhelming at times, but dealing with his shenanigans was mostly fun. The two of you had a sense of unbounded silliness that you shared with no one else. While you usually kept that side of yourself hidden around most people, Martin always brought it out of you. With him, you didn’t feel the need to filter your humor or tone down yourself. It was an unspoken agreement between you two. A family bond of sorts.

The next day you met in Martin’s car, which was oddly being driven by his friend Hamzah, and you squeezed into the backseat.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Hamzah.” The brunette said looking at you through the rear view mirror, his thin glasses reflecting your face as you awkwardly waved in response.

From Martin’s description and based on his usual group of friends, you had expected Hamzah to be just as obnoxious. But, to your surprise, he gave off a surprisingly calm vibe. His polite introduction almost catching off guard.

“Yeah. He’s my other half” Martin chimed in grinning as he reached a hand on Hamzah’s thigh only for it to be quickly swatted away.

The two eventually started recording. After a series of exaggerated pouts and baby voices from your cousin, Martin’s girlfriend was reluctantly handed the camera, clearly giving in just to put an end to the obscenity of Martin’s pleads.

As they started talking, you noticed a subtle shift in Hamzah’s demeanor. His voice took on a slightly higher pitch, and he became noticeably more talkative. You understood the concept of putting on a persona, but you couldn’t help but wonder if, deep down, he was just as silly as you and Martin, if his videos made his truest self come out.

“So, you’re probably wondering who this is,” Mandy said as the camera flipped to face you. You froze, giving it an awkward deer-in-the-headlights stare.

“And yes, guys,” Martin interrupted from the backseat, leaning into the frame, “She is my girlfriend.”

Mandy gasped, swiveling the camera to capture Martin’s overly confident smirk, which faded fast under her glare. The whole car was quickly filled with an awkward atmosphere until Hamzah broke the silence with a stifled laugh.

“She’s your cousin, Martin, oh my god” She complained, panning the camera back to you with a defeated look on her face as though she was considering being single again. You scrunched your nose back to her, as a way of giving her your condolences.

“I’m Y/N. Martin’s cousin,” You introduced yourself, giving the camera a deadpan look. “And yes, I am unfortunately related to him.”

From the driver’s seat, Hamzah let out a low chuckle. You caught his amused glance in the rearview mirror. You spotted Martin’s pouting at the camera from the corner of your eye.

“So guys,” Martin cut in, clapping his hands together, reverting the audience’s attention back to him. “Right now, we’re on our way to the Airbnb—”

“—Brokeback Mountain Airbnb.” Hamzah interjected dryly, eyes on the road.

“The Brokeback Mountain Airbnb— where we’ll be both sleeping together in the same bed!” Your cousin announced with way too much enthusiasm to the camera. Mandy groaned audibly, leaning back to create as much distance as possible between herself and the camera.

As the drive neared its end, the car turned onto a quiet gravel road. Up ahead, a cozy lodge came into view, the air carrying a blend of woodsmoke and the earthy scent of barn animals, reminding you of the rustic surroundings.

Approaching the entrance of the house, Hamzah pulled out his phone to text the owner.

“Jesus, there’s barely any signal.”

“Hey, get off your phone,” Martin said, his voice teasing. Mandy pointed the camera at him, capturing his exaggerated performance. “Enjoy nature, man.” he added, spinning around dramatically in the air.

That’s when Mandy stopped the recording as Hamzah, too focused on trying to find a way to access the Airbnb, didn’t bother to pay attention to Martin’s antics.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Hamzah muttered after a while, tucking his phone away into his pocket. “I guess we could just start eating.”

You left Hamzah and Martin as they wandered toward two stray chairs they’d found just outside the farm. The camera, Popeyes chicken, and those stupid eclipse glasses in hand.

You and Mandy had agreed to avoid participating in the mukbang and eat in the car earlier. Maybe it was a bit out of spite: you couldn’t help it as the guys stared at you with hunger in their eyes while you devoured your chicken, still insisting they were gonna have to wait until they get to the Airbnb to start the “Mukbang”.

You realized you and Mandy got along better than expected—your shared love for animals and the casual shit-talking behind the guys’ backs bonding you. As you left the kids to play, you decided to take a stroll around the farm, bumping into a tall man with leather gloves and a broom in hand. He introduced himself as the owner and, much to your delight, offered to show you the barn animals. You told him you’d wait for the guys to catch up, and he handed you the house keys before walking off. Both of you giggled at the thought him encountering the two guys hunched over their chicken in the middle of his yard while filming a YouTube video.

Once inside the house, you and Mandy headed to the first bedroom you found. The room was cozy, with a large bed and a homely vibe you both loved. You tossed your bags on the bed and settled in, chatting and making yourselves comfortable.

But as the two of you were discussing about how much money adopting an alpaca would cost you, Mandy began sneezing more and more frequently. She sniffled, rubbed her nose, and you noticed her eyes started to water.

“Mandy, you okay?”

“I don’t know. I might be allergic to something here,” she replied, her voice a bit stuffy. “My throat is itching.”

You looked around, trying to figure out what could be causing the problem. That’s when your eyes landed on the large framed picture above the bed. It was a beautiful floral arrangement, but those colorful flowers were as beautiful as they looked like they were likely to cause an allergic reaction.

“Are you allergic to some type of flower?” you said, pointing above you. “It might be that frame over there.”

Mandy sneezed again, looking miserable. “Ugh, this is so bad.”

Without wasting any time, you helped Mandy pack up her things. “Come on, let’s change rooms.”

You grabbed the keys and led her out, making your way to the second cabin. The other bedroom was much more spacious, you realized it was probably the one the guys booked for themselves to sleep in.

“Oh well. They’re gonna have to take the floral one” You said as you set you things to the side of the bed, taking a seat on the colorful bedsheets. Mandy thanked you, while she got remaining sniffles out with the tissues you gave her.

You were both laying flat on the bed relaxing when the light reflecting into the room began to dim, Mandy tilted her head, noticing it too. Curious, you stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. Peering out, you spotted the two guys who had brought you here, standing behind a camera and exclaiming excitedly at the sky.

“They grow up so fast.” Mandy commented, her eyes darting over the two figures in the distance before walking over to the opposite window, her phone propped up to take a picture of the eclipse happening in front of her.

“Careful, you’re looking at it with no glasses on” you teased, mimicking Martin’s exaggerated tone. Mandy responded with her usual deadpan stare that she usually reserved for your cousin.

Once she finished taking her pictures, you both decided to step out and meet up with the guys. The sky was already fading back to normal as they wrapped up their mukbang. The chairs were deserted, but Martin and Hamzah were still nearby, camera in hand.

“Did you see that, Mandy?” Martin called out enthusiastically walking toward you, his glasses still on, making him look as ridiculous as it was the over-excited energy he greeted his girlfriend with.

“That was actually beautiful, man” Hamzah added, carrying empty Popeyes boxes and a tripod with ease as he started heading back toward the cabins with the rest of you.

You filled them in about the allergy situation, and they quickly agreed to switch rooms. Martin made sure to announce the plan to the viewers, turning the camera back on.

“Okay, so, we got a smaller room for us,” Martin narrated, zooming in on the bed before panning to Hamzah’s unimpressed expression as he scanned the space. “But that’s okay. It’ll bring us even clos—”

His words were abruptly cut off by the anticipation of a loud sneeze, his left hand flying up to his nose as he sniffled. “Damn, big-ass sneeze” Hamzah teased, taking the camera from Martin so he could grab a tissue.

But the sneezing didn’t stop. Each sniffle grew louder and slimier, making Hamzah let out an audible “eugh” as he watched his friend’s mucus drip onto the tissue.

“God, I might be allergic to lilies too” Martin joked weakly, before Mandy demanded he evacuated the cabin. After stepping outside for a while, Martin’s sneezes started to ease, confirming your and Mandy’s suspicions.

“Aw, we’re united by allergies too!” Martin said dramatically, wrapping his arms around Mandy, who, despite being restrained by his hug, let a tiny smirk slip across her usual stoic face.

“Shit, this is complicated,” Hamzah muttered, sighing as he gestured toward you and Mandy“We can’t switch rooms with you again.”

He bit his bottom lip, frowning in frustration, before glancing at you. Silence stretched on as you and Hamzah shared an awkward stare-off, both silently acknowledging the inconvenient situation.

“I’m sorry,” Mandy gave you both an apologetic look as she wiggled out of Martin’s restraint “We could ask for the flowers to get removed…”

But that last sentence hung in the air, heavy with a shared hesitance among all of you.

“It’s fine” You and Hamzah both said at the same time, voices overlapping in different paces but carrying the same tension.

Mandy and Martin didn’t seem to have any objections, leaving you and Hamzah to share a one-bed room.

In the quiet of your cabin, an unspoken tension between you and Hamzah grew as you were settling into the once-again changed room. Even when you were doing something as simple as unpacking your belongings, every movement seemed amplified, making you both extremely aware of each other’s presence. Hamzah glanced over, clearly trying to keep things casual.

“You good with that side?” he asked, motioning to the bed as he set his phone and retainer on the nightstand.

“Oh, yeah.” you replied, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. You busied yourself with unpacking your pajamas, desperately avoiding his gaze.

Rummaging sounds came from his side as he fought with the zipper of his backpack, his voice breaking the silence again.

“This your first time in Canada?”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at him while you finished setting your things on the small wooden vanity. “First time anywhere outside Europe, kinda nervous.”

Hamzah shared a laugh with you, his shoulders easing as the tension in his chest seemed to slowly settle.

“Well, welcome to America, I guess. Though, as an immigrant, I’d advise you to go back when you still have the choice.” Hamzah’s tone remained the same, the last serious remark slipping out with a half-smile, as if it hadn’t been meant to land too heavily.

His hands fumbled with the things in his backpack, pulling out a crumpled receipt and some loose papers before setting it aside with a quick motion.

He then got up and walked around the bed over to your side, stopping in front of the door, something small clutched in his hands. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes but stopping to turn towards you.

“Wanna come outside?” he asked, his gaze catching yours, what seemed like a lighter being shuffled around in hand. His dark eyes lingered a bit, scanning over your face a couple of times, as if searching for something or perhaps just your reaction.

“Sure” you said, your voice steady despite the sudden rush of the moment. Without thinking, you dropped your things, completely unaware that you had left your phone behind.

You followed Hamzah outside, your gaze fixed on the back of his head, as if trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. The air outside was cool, and the silence between you both felt oddly comfortable.

You found a bench just outside the cabin, the stone wall behind it covered in vines and delicate flowers that made it look like it was straight out of a fairytail. But as Hamzah lit his cigarette, and cloud of smoke curled up into the air, you were pulled out of that very magical feeling.

“Want one?” Hamzah asked, catching your gaze on his cigarette.

You shook your head. “No, thanks,” you replied, your voice almost reflexive.

For a moment, you hesitated, a thought almost slipping from your lips. You were about to say “I stopped that years ago” but quickly shut the thought down. It felt like the kind of thing that might open up a conversation you didn’t feel right to have in that moment. Instead, you let the silence stretch a bit longer, the smoke hanging filling the air you two were sharing.

The sky had softened into deep blue hues, casting everything in muted shadows. Hamzah’s sharp features caught the soft glow of the unfolding moon, you watched the spirals of smoke blown out of his lips drift upward before dissolving into the night.

“I thought I finally stopped, you know,”Hamzah’s low voice broke the silence, a chuckle escaping mid-sentence.

You glanced over at him. He was already looking at you, though his gaze seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t meant to get caught. The cigarette dangled between his fingers, its ash tumbling to the ground below.

“Still, I carry a pack in my backpack,” he admitted, his tone hollow. “Guess I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

A humorless chuckle slipped out of him. His eyes dropped to the ground, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, you noticed the subtle tremor in his fingers.

Hamzah caught the way your eyes lingered on his trembling hand. His jaw tensed, and he lifted the cigarette for another drag, faking nonchalance.

“I’m only smoking ‘cause of nerves,” he muttered, the smoke curling from his lips. “This bed situation has been making me a bit…” He trailed off before biting the inside of his cheek. His words swallowed by hesitation.

“It’s hard to stop,” you admitted, your voice low but steady. “I mean, I’ve been there. Quit, started again, quit again… It’s a never-ending cycle.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth like a landslide, a reflexive need to reassure him colliding with an undeniable sense of relatability. Hamzah caught your gaze from the corner of his eyes, his expression softening, steady and quiet, as if he was carefully holding onto every word. When you fell silent, though, he didn’t look away. His expression seemed to be expectant, like he wasn’t yet ready for you to stop talking.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your coat. “Anxiety is something you have to battle, not cope with.”

The sentence hung in the air, heavier than you intended. Your tone came out too even, you almost worried it sounded cold. But the words were real—every bit of them was something you truly meant, words you wished someone had said to you when you were struggling too.

Hamzah’s silent response should’ve been unnerving, but it wasn’t. In fact, the way he looked at you, earnest, almost patient, made you feel oddly grounded. He nodded slowly, the corners of his lips tugging into a soft smile. It wasn’t a defeated one this time, but something warmer, more genuine. “That’s true” he said simply. But it didn’t feel like just an agreement for you, it was an affirmation that every bit of your words actually mattered.

But before you two could add anything more, Martin’s voice cut through the quiet night.

“Hey, we’re about to go eat dinner!” Your cousin exclaimed, walking over to you, car keys jingling in his hand. “You guys coming or…?”

“Just give me the keys, man.” Hamzah groaned as he stood up from the bench, a soft grin peeking through his rough act, swiftly catching the keys thrown his way by Martin.

In the car, you caught Hamzah’s gaze more than once. His eyes shifted between the road and brief glances at you, his steady expression almost as if he were ensuring both the drive and you were under control.

You dined at a Chinese restaurant in the area, despite you and Mandy’s earlier talk about wanting to try Ontario’s traditional country dishes. Hamzah had scoffed at the idea, insisting there was no such thing, and if there was, it wouldn’t be worth tasting.

During your second round of sushi rolls, Martin, mid-attempt to hit the ending scene from “Wicked”’s high notes, accidentally knocked over a bowl of hot soup. The contents spilling all over your light blue dress. Though the soup wasn’t boiling hot, Hamzah moved quickly to catch the bowl and then proceeded to dab at the stain with tissues while Martin apologized profusely. You laughed it off, even if the damp spot on your stomach left you trembling during the walk back to the car, the chill of Canada’s cold air biting at your wet skin.

Clutching your coat tightly in a futile attempt to warm yourself, you shivered visibly. Hamzah noticed immediately and leaned toward you. “You okay?”

“Just give her your jacket already” Mandy scolded, peering over Martin to shoot Hamzah an annoyed look.

Hamzah shrugged off his jacket without a word, holding it by the shoulders as he hovered it behind you. The awkward silence stretched long enough to make you wonder if you were supposed to laugh or not, but his steady expression made you quickly slip your arms through the sleeves, the jacket settled warmly around you, its length arriving to your thighs.

His hands brushed against your shoulders as he adjusted the coat, patting it into place with a casualness that made you undeniably flustered. But despite the warmth left on the coat from Hamzah, you found yourself longing for the heat of his hands on your shoulders, a thought you tried to brush off throughout the whole walk.

As you made your way back to the lodge, the chilly, pine-scented air wrapped around you, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns decorating the vine-infested walls. The chirping of crickets seemed to sing you a gentle welcome.

“Look at the stars!” Mandy exclaimed, elbowing Martin, a finger pointing up above. The group came to a halt, all turning your heads upward as one.

Above you was a sky so clear and full of stars it was hardly comparable to the light-polluted streets of Toronto. You stood still for a moment, mesmerized by the view, while Martin silently pulled out the camera.

“There’s the Big Dipper” you said while pointing toward a constellation, tracing its shape with your finger. The others squinted, following your gaze. “See? That’s the handle, and there’s the body.”

Hamzah stopped squinting to turn to the camera with a big confident smile, one that practically screamed a stupid joke was about to come out of his mouth.

“Bro, the Big Dipper is what I get at Dave’s Hot Chicken, know what I’m sayin’?”

His terrible attempt at comedy was met with two deadpan stares, as expected, from both you and Mandy. Martin the other hand stifled a laugh, but quickly collected himself, turning the camera around to film himself.

“I don’t know, guys, the only beautiful star I see is the one right next to me.” Martin said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend and pulling her close. Mandy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips as she reached out to rest an arm on his back.

Hamzah groaned, his eyes flicking back to the sky.

“Little Dipper’s right there, right?” He leaned in closer, his gaze following yours, hand extending to point up at the stars. “Though I call ‘em Ursa Minor and Ursa Major. Never heard of Lil’ Dipper.”

Hamzah joked, mocking your knowledge of astronomy, which made you elbow his side in frustration.

“Oh, but I’m sure you know all about Lil Yeat, right?” You shot back, your tone confident.

But you were met with a burst of laughter exploding from him, his dry chuckles paired with his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He wiped at his eyes, struggling to catch his breath. “Did you say Lil Yeat?” he gasped breathless.

You rolled your eyes as Hamzah tried to control his laughter, his hand rubbing his face frantically as he struggled to compose himself. He really didn’t have to mock you twice in a row, especially when the first joke was based on something you clearly had more knowledge on, and the second one being about a rapper’s name, one that you really couldn’t cared less about.

Hamzah hadn’t stopped teasing you about it, repeating “Lil Yeat” to Martin, who had the same, in your opinion, exaggerated reaction. The jokes carried on all the way to the cabin, where you two found yourself in after being ditched by the couple, who had conveniently decided they needed some “private time.”

“I’m gonna make you a Yeat fan one day, mark my words” Hamzah declared, locking the door behind him. That teasing smirk he’d been wearing all evening was still firmly in place.

“Can’t wait” you replied dryly, heading straight for the bathroom. You unpacked your cosmetics onto the small, cramped counter and began sorting through your skincare essentials. Just as you settled into your nightly routine, Hamzah started hovering in the doorway, holding a moisturizer and toothpaste. You quickly interjected his request to borrow some of your skincare products, cutting him off with a sharp look, but his insistent nudging came back the moment you pulled out a new product.

“Why not? There’s no way I can fit mine in this tight of a space anyway.” he whined.

“That’s what she said,” you muttered, dabbing your pricey Tatcha moisturizer onto your face.

The night passed quickly as the two of you argued over who had to take a piss the most all the way toplayfully shoving each other to claim the impossibly tiny sink.

When you finally made it to bed, you were relieved to find it wasn’t as small as you’d feared. Though not too spacious, it fit both of you well enough under the heavy blankets.

“Holy shit—your foot!” Hamzah suddenly yelped, jerking his leg away when your icy toes brushed against his calf. His warmth was so inviting, though, that you couldn’t help but inch closer.

Without warning, you extended your leg again, letting your foot rest against what you quickly realized was his thigh.

“Oh my god—“ Hamzah groaned as your heel pressed into his skin. He flinched but didn’t pull away immediately, giving you just enough confidence to push further.

Smirking, you placed your foot completely flat onto his thigh, his body warmth radiating like a heater to the entire sole of your foot.

“You better stop.” he threatened through chuckles, his leg jerking involuntarily as his hand darted out to grab your ankle. You yelped, trying to jerk your leg free, but his hold only tightened, restricting your movement. In a burst of resistance, you pushed forward with more force than you intended.

The sudden motion sent him lurching forward, his chest subtly pressing against your back. You both froze, the laughter still caught in your throat as you felt the fabric of Hamzah’s shorts tickling your thigh.

You quickly turned into a flushed mess, your face heating up as you felt a firm bump against your backside, Hamzah’s breath quickening against your ear.

#hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah the fantastic #slushie #slushynoobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah fic #out of character.

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kirbysdreamlandd · 6 months ago

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Hiii do u write requests for gn/male reader?? Ik ur hot ones fic was gn but it wasn't labeled so I just didn't know if it wasn't intentional or not. Also are u only writing for Hamzah rn?

Heyyy! I’d honestly be open to giving it a shot. Normally, I’d stay away from writing things I’m not too experienced with, like male/male relationships in this case, but I don’t think it’d be too different. Also thank you for reminding me to label my Y/N, I usually just go with the flow when assigning the gender, unless I specifically want it to be female.

That said, I probably won’t be able to write smut as I’d be very much struggling with that, I’m sorry! Also, yes, I’m only writing for Hamzah right now.

But thank you for the ask! Don’t be shy about requesting what you’d like me to write about, I’ll usually be writing back and possibly working on making it work for you!

#hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah the fantastic #slushie #slushynoobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah fic

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kirbysdreamlandd · 6 months ago

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fanfic from the hot ones video when he’s showing around his house and then he accidentally walks in and readers asleep and martin’s filming like oh😅😅😅 whoops guys LMFAOAOA

࿔Hot Ones

Hamzah X Y/N (GN)

Fluff, SFW, Smooching, One-shot

“So, yeah. This is my lovely office.” Hamzah clasped his hands together and smiled at the camera, his voice full of mock pride.

Martin panned the shot, slowly revealing the full extent of the room. The cluttered desk, the half-filled water dispenser, the messy bed—but he suddenly stopped.

“Oh, and what is that?” Martin asked, shuffling closer to zoom in on the side of the bed.

Hamzah craned his neck to look over Martin’s shoulder, his face falling as the recorder’s screen framed a blue, square-shaped transparent wrapper sitting on the nightstand.

Instinctively Hamzah swung an arm out, shoving the camera away so hard it made a loud thud along with a slap on Martin’s hand.

“Ow, dude!” Martin whined, fumbling to keep hold of the camera as it nearly slipped from his grasp.

Hamzah’s face turned an alarming shade of red, his eyes refusing to meet Martin’s as he muttered, “Anyway, guys,” and quickly turned on his heel toward the gaming desk. “This is where I do a lot of my work.”

He kept his back to the camera, rambling about the standing desk and his computer, giving his cheeks a moment to return to their normal color.

“Guys, Hamzah was hiding—” Martin started, his teasing tone immediately ticking Hamzah off. “—a furry costume under the bed.” He finished, Hamzah’s widened stare stopping him in his tracks.

There was a beat of silence as Hamzah stared him down, his lips twitching as if he were trying to hold back a smile. Finally, he sighed dramatically and threw his hands up. “Alright, you got me,” he said, his tone suddenly over-the-top serious. “I guess the truth is out.”

Martin’s laughter escalated, and he zoomed in on Hamzah’s mock-defeated expression. “Yeah? What kind of furry are you, then?”

“A wolf, obviously.” Hamzah said, crossing his arms as he leaned against his desk. “Lead of the pack, they all follow me. It’s a lifestyle, not a choice.”

Martin nodded, the camera now drifting over to a collection of framed AI-generated art hung haphazardly on Hamzah’s wall.

“So, uh… is that it? Are we done with the tour?” Martin asked, raising a brow as Hamzah glanced around the room.

“Not yet!” Hamzah said, perking up as if struck by inspiration. “We still haven’t shown you the bedroom. Let’s go.”

The camera panned over the surprisingly clean room—a tidy desk in the corner, a mirror mounted neatly on the wall, and then…

“Oh!” Hamzah froze mid-step, his hand glued to the handle as his eyes landed on you, sprawled out on the bed. The blankets were tossed aside, and you were snuggled deep into his beloved Playboi Carti hoodie, the oversized fabric practically swallowing you as you slept peacefully.

Martin leaned behind Hamzah, while he lowered the camera. “Uh oh.” he whispered.

The creak of the door opening and Martin’s voice stirred you from your sleep. Your eyes fluttered open groggily, your head lifting just enough to see the doorway—and the unmistakable sight of Martin holding a camera.

“Martin—?” you mumbled, still half-asleep as you scrambled to sit up from the compromising sleeping position you were in.

Martin mouthed a “Sorry” as he exited the room while Hamzah walked over, now standing beside you by the bed. His posture was stiff, as if bracing for the worst.

“I’m so sorry,” Hamzah started, his voice unusually quiet, his eyes darting over your body nervously. “We were filming and… I forgot you were asleep here.” He tugged at his beanie, his eyes filled with a worried, apologetic expression.

You wiped the sleep from your eyes with the long sleeve of the hoodie, trying to collect yourself. “It’s fine” you muttered, still half-dazed, your voice raspy from sleep.

As your vision cleared, you noticed something odd. A slight tinge of red lingered in Hamzah’s pupils, and his lips seemed oddly swollen and glossy. You furrowed your brows, leaning in closer to get a better look, and then instinctively reached out, grabbing his face to level with yours.

“What the hell happened?” you asked, a little alarmed, your voice a mixture of concern and confusion.

“What?” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by your sudden move. He wiped his lips quickly, but it only made it worse. “No, it’s—uh, I’m fine.”

You furrowed your brows even more, a growing sense of worry creeping into your chest. “Hamzah, you look sick. What’s going on? Do I need to call somebody?”

Your head turned, frantically scanning the room as your heart raced to find your cellphone. You were already reaching for it, about to call someone, when you felt Hamzah’s hands gently hold your wrist, pulling you back to his side.

With his face still in your hands, Hamzah couldn’t help but smile, a flutter of warmth filling his chest as he saw the genuine worry etched on your face. “It’s the spicy wings, babe.” he said softly, his voice slightly strained as he cleared his voice.

Your face relaxed as an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. You took in Hamzah’s face once more, the swelling on his lips and the unshakable calmness in his demeanor finally making sense.

“We were doing Hot Ones.” he said, his voice still carrying a bit of a raspy edge as you gently brushed an imaginary piece of dust from his face.

“That means you’ve got more suffering to go through?” you whined, your shoulders dropping with disappointment.

“Not as much suffering as you put me through.” he teased, an exaggerated sarcasm in his voice. “This is what I get for marrying my ball and chain.”

Before you could throw him the usual annoyed look, he grinned and leaned in closer. You didn’t even have time to protest before his lips pressed softly against yours. The slight swell of his lips was tender against your own. The saliva that had gathered in Hamzah’s mouth from the spicy food mixed with yours, making the exchange even more slippery.

“Tell me when you’re done swapping spit!” Martin’s voice rang from the other room, making you both instinctively pull away, trying to hide your smiles. “We’ve got more wings to try.”

Hamzah scoffed, amused, before using his hands—resting on either side of you—to push himself up.

He murmured a soft “Love you” before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. You sat on the bed, the quiet stillness surrounding you. The only thing left of Hamzah was the lingering scent of his cologne that clung to his black hoodie.

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the moment. You felt a slight sting on your tongue, a reminder of Hamzah’s spicy kiss still lingering in your mouth.

A/N: yaaaaaallll this was written in 2 hours, I had such a writer block in the beginning (what’s new?) but it didn’t turn out as bad as i thought. Hope you enjoyed 💙

#hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah the fantastic #slushie #slushynoobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah fic #out of character.

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kirbysdreamlandd · 6 months ago

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Bye he’s so……………… sfhemfjjfjsk

#hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah the fantastic #slushie #slushynoobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah fic #mandysiphone #out of character.

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kirbysdreamlandd · 6 months ago

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Hamzah takes you christmas shopping

Hamzah X Y/N (FEM),

Fluff, SFW, One-shot

Hamzah comes home on Christmas Day with a surprise—A whole day of shopping just for you.

Oof, I rushed to post this since it’s already New Year’s! Hope you all have a fantastic year ahead and enjoy this unproofread, late fic!

You were comfortably sat on your bed, fingers tapping on the keyboard of your laptop while your lilac Apple AirPods Max—so kindly gifted to you by Freddie Dredd—rested snugly over your ears, drowning out the world with a soothing mix of your favorite jazz songs.

In your hands was your “Out of Character” mug, its handle cracked and glued back together—a casualty of Hamzah’s infamous lack of attentiveness. The poor mug had met its fate during one of your kitchen debates over what to DoorDash, a conversation that had somehow spiraled into a messy, laughter-filled makeout session right there by the countertop.

Every time you held the mug, you couldn’t help but recall that memory: Hamzah half-apologizing between kisses, both of you too caught up in the moment to care about the loud crash behind you, and the mug shattering to pieces on the floor.

Hamzah had insisted on replacing it a with another. “We have millions of others in the warehouse.” But for you, this wasn’t just any mug. It was the one that had seen you through everything. From your first awkward visit to his apartment after a Hinge date, all the way to the day you packed up your tiny studio and moved into his house.

You both had ended up buying so many other mugs over time; ones with stupid sayings like “Mama Needs a Coffee” to match your equally ridiculous “Mama Needs a Blunt” shirts.

But no matter how many novelty mugs came and went, it was always that one “Out of Character” mug that ended up in your hands.

That piece of history was now filled with the hot chocolate you and Hamzah had lovingly prepared together that morning, the steam rising in soft spirals before meeting your lips.

That morning had been full of festive joy. You and Hamzah had spent hours decorating the Christmas tree, hanging each ornament turning into a competition for who had found the most ridiculous cringeworthy decoration at Walmart.

The free time after finishing up the Christmas decorating quickly became Hamzah’s excuse to pull off your matching set of pajamas. “What? I’m unwrapping my Christmas present.”

You smiled softly to the screen of your laptop, recalling Hamzah telling you at some point that this was the best Christmas he’d ever had. “I actually feel like I’m part of a family.” he had said. It wasn’t just about you two, it was about everyone: Mandy, Martin, and all the others who had made this Christmas feel complete for him.

You were so absorbed in your memories and hypnotized by the soft voice of Kali Uchis humming in your ears that you didn’t notice Hamzah returning from his trip to the store.

He started calling your name, the third time being when you finally heard the faint sound of his voice through your headphones. You quickly got up, pulling them off as you heard him make his way to the bedroom, still calling your name.

“Babe?”You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you greeted him. “Hey, what’s all this?” you asked, nodding toward the bags.

Hamzah grinned, shifting the bags around in his arms. “Christmas presents for the kids. Got a little carried away when I encountered the toy isle.” He paused, setting the bags down making a heavy clunk.

You peeked into the bag, spotting a huge Lego set that seemed to be Spider-Man related.

“D’you think Martin’s gonna like it?” he asked, catching you eyeing the purchase. “Bought a similar one for Freddie.”

“Oh, I checked out that Kawasaki we saw the other day,” Hamzah continued, his voice a mix of excitement and hesitation. “The owner said it’s a custom motorcycle, so it’ll probably cost a fortune. It’s not worth it, man.”

After setting down the other bag, Hamzah walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight into him. “I got a present for you, too.”

You tilted your head back to make eye contact, and for a moment you saw that usual smug expression on his face soften with sweetness.

“Hm? What is it?” you asked, your arms swinging around his hips. You couldn’t resist giving his butt a playful squeeze, but he immediately dodged it with a playful chuckle.

He grabbed your hand gently and placed it over his chest. “Me. I’m the present.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the playful scoff that slipped from your lips. His grin widened, and he giggled softly, still holding your hand, his fingers nearly intertwining with yours.

“I’m joking.” he added quickly and slowly pulling your hand from his chest, his grip firm as he moved it to the side.

You glanced down and noticed he was still wearing the pajama pants you’d bought him, the ones covered in little Santa Claus prints. The soft fabric clung to his legs, highlighting the shape of his thighs and emphasizing the curve on his crotch area.

“I know you wanna take these off me, girl.” he blurted. Your head snapped up caught in a guilty expression. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got things to do.” he said, his voice light and teasing, until his gaze flicked down to your outfit. He paused, his expression unreadable for a moment, and you suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness.

Hamzah wasn’t usually one to critique your outfit choices. If anything, he always found a way to compliment your carefully chosen looks, especially if they incorporated his own clothes.

“You might wanna dress up.” he stated, his voice low, but his eyes betrayed the sharp flicker of desire as they lingered on the flushed mark on your collarbone and neck, a reminder of that morning’s passionate need for each other.

You couldn’t help but flash a flustered smirk, but quickly snapped back, wondering what in God’s name he meant by “You might wanna dress up.”

You watched as he pulled away to carry the bags away, completely unbothered by your utter confusion.

“What the fuck does that mean, Hamzah?”you asked, crossing your arms as his head shot up. “Where are we going?”

He smiled, giving a smug yet amused look. With his hands now free, he fished his wallet out of the pocket of his hoodie.

“I’m splurging on you, babe.” he said casually, flipping his wallet open. Neatly stacked credit cards glinted under the light, and a Polaroid of the two of you awkwardly touching tongue tips in a photo booth peeked out from the folds.

You continued to stare at him, waiting for the punchline, unsure if this was still part of his joke. But his expression remained genuine, his smile softening into that familiar playful look Hamzah wore when he was truly happy.

“Come on, I’m taking you to wherever you want.” he said, walking toward you with a playful grin. “I know you like the matching PJs, but you’ve got to wear a lot more than that. It’s below freezing out.”

As he veered off to greet the cats with an exaggerated, high-pitched voice in response to their meows, you stood in the hallway for a moment before retreating to the bedroom. Your laptop still displayed the test you’d been taking. You closed it with a soft click, unknowingly letting out a relieved sigh.

Rummaging through your closet, you pulled out a long-sleeved black top and a comfy black silk skirt, simple but elegant. To keep warm, you layered on a fuzzy coat and wrapped a red scarf snugly around your neck.

For the final touch, your hand hesitated for a moment before reaching for the red lacey tights—the ones Hamzah always said made you look “like a sexy office siren”. A small smirk tugged at your lips as you slipped them on, pairing them with sleek black heels that completed the look.

You gave yourself a look in the mirror. The outfit was bold, a little outside your usual comfort zone, but that was part of the fun. You loved dressing up for dates; not just for the way it made you feel, but for Hamzah’s inevitable amazed reaction and silly comments every time you jokingly runway model-walked to him.

When you walked back into the hallway, his reaction was immediate. He paused mid-sentence, one hand still extended toward a cat that had been nuzzling him, and his eyes widened slightly before a lopsided grin spread across his face.

“Damn.” He said adjusting his beanie while attentively scanning your whole body. His gaze darted quickly, from your face to your chest, down to your legs, and back to your face before lingering there, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say more was left speechless.

“Blue got your tongue?” you teased, twirling around playfully, letting the silky skirt flare out slightly.

His only response was a breathless laugh, shaking his head as if to snap himself out of it, but his dark widened eyes were still glued to you.

You sauntered over, the click of your heels echoing in the hallway, and leaned in close. Pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, leaving behind a faint red lipstick mark.

“Girl, I want you to get my tongue.”He teased, laughing softly, before his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer just as you tried to pull away. Your faces were inches apart now. His eyes flicked down to your lips, a hungry look quickly growing in his pupils, as if the red lipstick unlocked a new craving in him.

But before he could lean in for the kiss, you broke away, giggling, leaving him standing there with his lips slightly parted. You grabbed your bag, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as you made your way toward the door.

The mall was alive with the chatter of couples picking out Christmas gifts, the soft clinking of cash registers blending with the festive music playing. Despite the cold air that that clung to your fuzzy coat when you’d stepped inside, the warmth of the mall enveloped you, Hamzah’s presence beside you only adding to the coziness.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze would occasionally flicker to your outfit. How his lips curled into that knowing smile, along with the same teasing glint in his eyes.

Hamzah inisisted on getting you the chocolate-covered strawberries you’d been eyeing every time you passed the food stalls. The vendor, grinning at Hamzah’s excitement, threw in a jar of pistachio cream and even offered a Christmas-themed spoon for free, saying that Hamzah was “doing the right thing by spoiling his lady”.

Your next stop was a cute pink store filled with Hello Kitty and other Sanrio gadgets. You picked out a few skincare products, making sure to grab some that could be shared between you two. Hamzah had a habit of stealing your moisturizers anyway, so it only made sense. When he showed you the cherry-scented lip balm, bejeweled with tiny Hello Kitty figures, you couldn’t help but tease him. “Yeah, you could use some of that too.” Then you found yourself rummaging through Hello Kitty blind boxes, your hands practically trembling with excitement. You had to complete the collection, and Hamzah simply shook his head as you grabbed a handful of them.

“It’s an obsession” he muttered, the familiar reference slipping from his lips before he sighed dramatically. “I miss Martin.” he added, the usual remark he weaponized to draw your attention back to him.

The next stop was a high-end boutique, the kind brimming with luxurious fabrics and well-dressed staff who hovered nearby, ready to pounce on you the moment your gaze lingered on anything, ready to recommend the priciest item in the store.

Though your first reaction was to scoff at the price tags, Hamzah was relentless, insisting you try on a couple of dresses. You hesitated at first, but once you stepped out of the fitting room, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes widened along with a bright smile.

You ended up buying two dresses, each one serving a different vibe but equally gorgeous to you.

The first dress was a chic, long-sleeved design, its soft fabric and delicate details perfect for the cottagecore look you liked. The way it hugged your figure and complimented your features made you feel like you were stepping out of a Pinterest board. As you twirled in front of the mirror, the airy fabric flowing around you, Hamzah’s voice cut through the fantasy you were immersing yourself in.

“Nara Smith can move over,” he said, his eyes wide, pointing at you and pretending to talk to an imaginary audience. “This is the perfect trad wife.”

Then came the second dress, a complete contrast. It was a lacy, see-through, short dress that had you questioning how you’d even find the occasion to wear it. It clung in all the right places and left little to the imagination, with a daring open back framed by pearly curtains. The moment you walked out, Hamzah’s face shifted from playful to serious as he quickly stood up, his hand instinctively reaching to shield you as you turned.

As you passed the sneaker store, a couple of pairs caught your eye. Shoes that matched some of the items on Hamzah’s wishlist. The temptation was too strong, so you subtly steered him inside. He hesitated, but you were persistent, convincing him to try on a few pairs making him walk around the aisles a few times.

“Are you sure they fit well?” You asked worried, follwing Hamzah with your eyes as he awkwardly paced up and down the store aisle.

“Yes, mom.” He plopped back on the chair with an exaggerated sigh, while you leaned down to press on the tip of the shoe, making sure that there was enough space for his toes.

After much deliberation, he finally settled on a pair of black metallic shoes, admiring them with a satisfied look on his face. As you both approached the cashier, he fumbled for his wallet. You quietly handed over your card as the cashier processed the purchase, a small smile exchanged between you and the employee behind the desk while Hamzah continued make small talk, oblivious to the transaction happening right in front of him.

Once the bag was handed to him, you made your way out of the store, giggling to yourself about the little secret you held from him.

The mall had completely drained both of you, the energy spent on shopping, teasing, and trying on clothes leaving you feeling more tired than you’d expected. You both ordered two caramel macchiatos at the Christmas-y looking coffe shop and made your way back to the parking lot.

Hamzah’s tired smile, the smell of coffee, and the undeniable Christmas spirit that seemed to be everywhere around you ignited in you a calming serenity.

The warm AC hummed through the car as Hamzah turned the key, the motor rumbling to life. The car’s screen lit up, and the soft, jazzy tones of “Santa Baby” by Laufey spilled through the speakers.

“Oh my god, the spirit of the Christmas is here, literally.” Hamzah said, faking a surprised expression while extending a hand towards the screen.

“Santa, if you’re hearing me, please bring Hamzah that Kawasaki he’s always wanted.” you said, glancing at him with a playful smirk as he chuckled, steering the wheel with one hand.

Little did he know, his beloved motorcycle was waiting for him in the garage, tied up with an exaggeratedly big red bow and a red lipstick-stained note resting on top of it.

#hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah the fantastic #slushie #slushynoobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah fic #out of character.

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