Enemies To Lovers Hate Lwk Warranted Cause Why Are U Beefing Every Ten Minutes Just To End Up Together

Would absolutely love some more teenage dirtbag hamzah.. maybe smth like meeting/getting to know his friends (aka Martin n Mandy)

The Booth at BENNY’S

70s hamzah..

The first time you meet Hamzah’s friends, it’s at some dimly lit pizza joint called Benny’s, the kind of place with cracked red vinyl booths and a jukebox that only half works. The whole place smells like melted cheese and grease, and the floors are just sticky enough to remind you that generations of teenagers have sat exactly where you are now, huddled in a booth, stealing fries off each other’s plates, talking about nothing and everything at once.

Hamzah’s next to you, his arm draped lazily along the back of the seat, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder. It’s casual, but it’s something. He keeps glancing at you like he’s trying to read your expression, make sure you’re okay, because Martin is a lot. He’d warned you about that on the way over.

“He overstimulates people,” Hamzah had said, cigarette balanced between his lips as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping out some invisible rhythm against his knee. “Talks too much, says weird shit, but he means well. And Mandy’s cool. She’s just—” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’ll see.”

Now, you see.

Martin is across from you, mid-story about the time he saw a guy punch through a vending machine because his Snickers got stuck. He’s reenacting the whole thing, wild gestures, full sound effects, even a dramatic recreation of the guy’s emotional breakdown afterward. “Dude fell to his knees, right there in the hallway. Hands bleeding, Snickers in his mouth, just sobbing. It was beautiful.”

You’re not sure if the story is real, but it doesn’t really matter. He’s entertaining.

Mandy is next to him, sipping her soda like she’s heard this one before. Which, she probably has. She catches you watching her and just smirks, leaning in a little. “Don’t let him overwhelm you. If you ignore him long enough, he short-circuits.”

“I do not,” Martin protests, offended.

She just raises an eyebrow and turns back to you. “So. What’s your deal?”

Hamzah shifts beside you, like he’s nervous about what you’ll say, but you just tell her the basics, where you’re from, what you do, how you met Hamzah. The last part gets Martin’s attention.

“Wait, wait, wait— let me guess,” he interrupts, squinting dramatically at you. “You saw him from across the room, all broody and mysterious, and just had to know who he was.”

Hamzah groans, kicking him under the table. “Shut the fuck up.”

Martin grins, undeterred. “Or—or maybe he said some deep poetic shit and won you over, huh? That sounds like him. Just staring at the stars, all like, ‘You ever think about how small we are in the grand scheme of things?’

You snort, shaking your head. “Actually, he just asked if I had a lighter.”

Martin slams his fist on the table like you’ve just told him the greatest joke of all time. “CLASSIC.”

Hamzah groans again, sinking lower into the booth, but you can tell he’s smiling a little.

The conversation keeps flowing, movies, music, the weirdest things you’ve ever seen on public transport. Martin jumps from topic to topic like a pinball, Mandy rolling her eyes but still smirking at him like she secretly finds it funny. Hamzah mostly listens, watching you more than he watches them, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll laugh at the right moments, if you’ll understand their inside jokes, if you’ll, fit.

And you do.

Somewhere between stealing the last slice of pizza off Hamzah’s plate and making Mandy laugh with some dumb story about your childhood, you realize you’re not nervous anymore. You like them. And, maybe more importantly, they like you.

Hamzah nudges your knee under the table, subtle but warm, and when you glance over, he’s already looking at you. Soft. Happy. Like he knew this would work out all along.

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo @yearlyism

rest in peace angel 🤍

We moved on from Lisa Frankenstein too fast..

It’s not gay if it’s in a three-way

I’ll take him just like this🙏🏽

introducing..

໑ 70s POPULAR GIRL QUEN

“Girls are never supposed to be powerful or confident or assertive. But why not?”

POPULAR QUEN… whose laughter rings through the halls, rich and unfiltered, turning heads because it’s too bright, too alive to ignore.

POPULAR QUEN… whose stare could slice through steel, yet softens for those clever enough to keep up and kind enough to deserve

POPULAR QUEN… who holds secrets like jewels, tucked away and gleaming, never careless with them, unless you make her careless.

POPULAR QUEN… whose skin catches the light like it’s always golden hour, her presence warm but untouchable, like the last flicker of sunset.

POPULAR QUEN… who could break hearts just by forgetting names, yet remembers the way her friends take their coffee.

POPULAR QUEN… who sees through the cracks in people, sharp-eyed and steady, offering kindness like a rare, fleeting thing.

POPULAR QUEN… who doesn’t need a crown to rule, her presence alone bends the room, like gravity pulling everything toward her.

POPULAR QUEN… who laughs louder than the music at parties, head thrown back, untouchable in her joy, like the world exists just to entertain her.

POPULAR QUEN… who doesn’t start drama but will end it with one sentence that feels like a slap and a smile.

POPULAR QUEN… who holds herself like she’s invincible because she’s had to be, but lets the right people see the cracks.

POPULAR QUEN… who remembers the little things you told her once, your favorite song, the snack you love—and brings it up like it’s nothing, but it’s everything.

POPULAR QUEN… who pretends not to care, but you notice how her eyes light up when you actually listen to her stories.

POPULAR QUEN… who holds onto old letters and birthday cards in a box under her bed, rereading them when the house is too quiet.

POPULAR QUEN… who talks and talks until she’s tired, and then sits quietly, staring off like she’s somewhere far away.

POPULAR QUEN… who gives hugs that linger just a second longer than expected, like maybe she needed it too but won’t admit

POPULAR QUEN… who laughs so hard she has to wipe tears from her eyes, shoulders shaking, and for a moment, she’s just a girl, not the queen of the room.

POPULAR QUEN… who will roll her eyes at your bad joke but fight back a smile because she secretly loves that you tried.

POPULAR QUEN… who teases you without mercy but softly fixes your collar before you walk away, like she can’t help but care.

this one was for the 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 girlies

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba11s @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

too GIRLY

70s teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

Hamzah had never seen a room like this before. It was pink, not overwhelmingly so, but in a way that felt intentional, soft yet loud, like her. The walls were lined with posters, some of musicians he knew, others of actors from old movies he hadn’t gotten around to watching. Trinkets and jewelry littered her vanity, bracelets stacked like small, colorful towers, rings scattered like forgotten treasures. Everything had a place, even in its slight messiness, and it smelled like her, warm, sweet, something floral but grounded.

He sat on the edge of her bed, hands pressing into the plush comforter, looking around like he was stepping into a world he wasn’t sure he belonged in. He wasn’t used to softness like this. His own room was plain, bare except for his boxing gear, a few records, and his camera sitting on the dresser. But hers? It was a reflection of her, vibrant, lived-in, a place that didn’t just exist but felt.

“You like it?” she asked, standing near the vanity, watching him take it all in.

He scoffed, running a hand through his bleach buzz. “It’s… a lot.” Then, softer, “It suits you.”

She grinned, walking over and plopping down next to him, the bed dipping under her weight. “You mean it’s too girly for you?”

Hamzah smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Nah. I think I like it.” His gaze flickered to the pink ruffly pillows, the delicate lace curtain fluttering from the open window. He turned back to her. “It’s nice.”

And it was. Not just the room. The feeling of being there, of sitting close, of knowing this was a space she felt safe in, and that, somehow, he’d been allowed into it too.

The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the blinds of her bedroom, painting soft golden stripes across her walls, her floor, the tangled sheets beneath them. Hamzah wasn’t sure how they got here, sprawled on her bed, bodies pressed together, warmth curling between them like the scent of her perfume. It was always the same, something light and sweet, like vanilla and flowers, something that made his head feel foggy whenever he got too close.

His hands trembled slightly, but not out of fear. It was something else. Something deep in his chest that clawed at his ribs, telling him that this, whatever this was, was just as thrilling as it was terrifying.

She lay beneath him, half-laughing, half-breathless, pink lips parted just enough to make him want to kiss her again. He did. It was soft at first, hesitant, searching, but then her fingers tangled in the back of his bleach-blonde buzz, and suddenly, he was kissing her like she was the only thing keeping him breathing.

Somewhere between the way she sighed against his mouth and the way his hands skimmed the warm skin beneath her shirt, that nervousness melted. Not completely. Not all at once. But enough. Enough for him to help her out of it, leaving her in that ruffled pink bra he swore was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. It had a tiny bow in the middle, delicate lace tracing the edges, the kind of thing he never thought much about until now, until her.

His fingers ghosted along her waist, and she shivered. He swallowed, feeling like his heart was somewhere between his throat and his stomach. “You okay?” His voice was quieter than usual, like he was scared of breaking whatever fragile thing was holding this moment together.

She nodded, looking at him with something warm, something trusting, something that made him feel like maybe he could do this, maybe they could figure it out together. He kissed her again, slower this time, letting the world outside her bedroom slip away, letting himself get lost in the feeling of her, the way she fit against him, the way she made him forget everything except her.

They weren’t in a rush. There was nowhere to be, nothing to prove, just hands exploring, lips meeting, skin against skin, and the quiet thrill of knowing they had all the time in the world.

@issysh3ll

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

maybe we'll meet at a bar he'll drive a funky car 😛

⋆ MYLENE’S MASTER-LIST

smut & fluff

. readers ໑

࿐ ࣪ ۪ INTRODUCING 𝒜NGEL READER

࿐ ࣪ ۪ INTRODUCING DEER READER

. sturniolo ໑

random pair science project in THE 70s

christopher sturniolo fics..

introducing.. 70s DOUCHEBAG CHRIS

introducing.. 70s BABYDOLL READER

I’m not in LOVE

the DRIVE IN

skating in CIRCLES

matthew sturniolo fics..

introducing.. 70s LOSER MATT

FROSTED FLAKES pt.1

FROSTED FLAKES pt.2

nathan does fics..

introducing.. 70s STONER NATE

how.. 70s STONER NATE listens to music

introducing.. 70s PREPPY READER

treat me like a FOOL

collages

70s chris

what’s in LOSER MATT’S camera?

how they would dress in THE 70s

. slushy noobz ໑

introducing.. 70s TEENAGE DIRTBAG HAMZAH

the WARRIORS

the WARRIORS pt.2

the BLONDE

too GIRLY

introducing.. 70s WEIRD KID MARTIN

their favorite songs/music taste in THE 70s

random pair science project in THE 70s

collages

How they would dress in THE 70s

Their favorite songs/music taste in THE 70s

. the white lotus ໑

lochlan ratliff and reader..

SOMEONE NEW

PINKY PROMISE

FULL MOON

Lochlan and 𝒜ngel reader

. challengers ໑

introducing.. 70s GOLDEN BOY ART

. other (celeb) ໑

quen blackwell fics..

introducing.. 70s POPULAR GIRL QUEN

70s quen

introducing.. 70s STONER TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

k-drama fics..

introducing.. 70s LEE MYUNG GI.

I hate my family I hate my family I hate my family omg I hate these hoes