I’ll tell you what I want what I really really want:
I wanna memorize where another persons moles are I wanna know exactly how many freckles or dimples or scars they have I wanna be able to look really closely into their eyes and see all the different colors and the light reflecting in them I wanna know what their favorite everything is I wanna watch all our favorite movies and shows together I wanna sing songs with them while we cook dinner I wanna fall asleep with our legs tangled together listening to the sound of their heartbeat and their breathing I wanna try new recipes we found and see whether they’re good or not I wanna go on vacation and make souvenirs with them I wanna do face care or makeup with them I wanna dress up and have matching costumes with them I wanna get up to shenanigans with them I wanna cry our eyes out together while we watch a tearjerker I wanna learn and write songs for them I wanna hold their hand in public and not be ashamed or embarrassed at all around them I wanna be a safe space for them I wanna talk all the time like we’re two best friends at a sleepover I wanna notice every new wrinkle and crows foot and smile line and know that we’re growing old together and that our kind of love will last forever because we were meant for each other
updated June 14 2026. Going through some of the lists sporadically and placing dialogue prompts in their respective sections. My focus this time around is enemies/lovers prompts.
PLEASE reblog if you use any of these/wanna share with your writer friends!!
do you think you could do a Steve randle x reader fic where reader is steve's greaser girlfriend and she's hanging out around the DX while he and soda work
she's just like sitting on the counter and chatting with him and soda between customers and watching while he works on cars and stuff like that
thank youuuu it's okay if you can't/don't want to do this but I would love it so much if you did🫶
-🦆
It has been four months and I SINCERELY apologize for how late I'm getting this out 😭
But it's finally been written and is here, I hope you like it!
wc: 1k
cw: fem reader, 'baby' and 'doll' as nicknames, potentially some very slightly ooc moments, reader calls Steve 'Stevie', Steve hating on Ponyboy, Steve and reader hating on socs, mentions of smoking, no use of Y/N (idk if we're cheering or booing about this one), not sure how well I implied reader being a greaser, improper English/grammar in the dialogue (especially from Steve)
“Was that his dad’s cash?”
The question leaves your mouth the second the doors of the DX shut and the cropped-haired blond boy looked far away enough for you to ask it.
“I don’t think I’m legally allowed to disclose that information to you,” Steve snorts, sorting the bills and coins into the register.
“Aw, come on, Stevie,” you groan, stepping closer to him so that the wooden counter is the only barrier between the two of you. “You have like, five classes with him. You’ve never heard anything about a job or somethin’ like that? Or braggin’ about what his dad paid for?”
“No,” he huffs. “I don’t listen to his dumb conversations. Why do ya wanna know anyway? He’s just some random Soc.”
You place your hands on the countertop, pushing yourself up and plopping down to sit on it. “I was talkin’ to Ponybooy earlier—”
You have seen Steve in many situations when he just couldn’t find the answer. Really tough car problems or math tests at school. But even so, he’s wearing what you think might be the most confused look ever.
“What made you wanna talk to that kid? Were you on drugs or somethin’?”
“He actually makes pretty interesting conversation,” you shrug. “Anyway, I was talking about my lab partners and how pretentious and annoying they are, then he starts on this bullshit about how ‘Socs have it rough, too’.” You pretend to gag. “I couldn’t look at any one of them and tell you a single rough thing they have going on in their lives. Their only problems are probably just their butler putting too much chocolate in their fresh-baked cookies.”
“Or that their air conditioner’s too cold,” Steve grins.
“Their diamond shoes don’t fit right!”
“Their steaks are way too juicy.”
You and your boyfriend spend quite a bit of time laughing over all of the hardships and suffering that the esteemed people of the West Side must go through every day.
“Oh, and it must be absolutely terrible for them when they—” Your next little joke is interrupted by the creak of the floor under you and Steve, and you break your gazes from each other for Soda to grace your view.
“What’s got you guys hooting and hollering so much over here?” He crosses his arms across his chest, lifting an eyebrow. “I can’t hear the radio.”
“Soc problems,” you laugh. “What do you think they ‘struggle’ with on a day-to-day?”
Soda takes a moment to think, his lips pursing before they curve upward in a smile. “Their Mustangs go too fast.”
“Ooh, that one’s good. But I bet Stevie here could fix up any car to be as fast as a Mustang.” You lean in slightly closer to him, and his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer to his side.
“That’s right on the money, baby,” your boyfriend grins. “Soon as I cleared it out, got good tires, got a cold air intake in…” He continues on about car parts and engines and horsepower and stuff for a good four minutes. You’re absolutely not listening to or understanding a single word that leaves his mouth, but you look up at him with interest on your face anyway so he feels like you are. The sparkle in his eyes and the grin on his face whenever he talks about this kind of thing are so wonderful to gaze at anyway, so you don’t mind much.
When the bells jingle on the door again, you slide off of the counter, busying yourself with the snacks on the nearest shelf.
You wander around the DX aimlessly, grazing your fingers over plastic bags and candy wrappers, glossy magazines, and frosty bottles with different soft drinks in them. Some of the items on the gas station shelves leave their places there and find a new home in your hands.
The group that had come in are at the counter now, handing their stuff to Steve as he checks tags and punches numbers into the register. Once they leave, you take their place opposite your boyfriend at the counter.
“Hey,” you smile, placing your items down between the two of you. A pack of Marlboros, a Pepsi, and a bag of gummy bears. “I’ve secured my goods.”
Steve grins, already ringing up your things. “All great choices, doll. We’re sharin’ these once they’re paid for, by the way.” He holds up the cigarettes before handing them to you, but you put them back on the counter as you flip your purse open to find cash.
“What’s the total?” You ask, most of your attention on feeling around for the cool metal of coins in your bag.
Steve makes a face, reaching over the counter to take both your hands. “Zero for you. I got this one.”
“Aw, come on, Stevie. I’ve got enough.”
“I know you do.” He releases your hands, moving his own to his pockets to find his wallet. “But I’m payin’.” He fishes out a nickel and two quarters and tosses them into the drawer of the register. “There.” Your stuff is pushed back across the counter and towards you.
“Thanks, Stevie. You didn’t need to do that.”
“I’ve gotcha covered.” His eyes move to the clock above the doors, and then quickly back to you. “I’m off in ten minutes,” he tells you, a sparkle in his eyes as he pats the Marlboros. “And I think I mentioned smokin’ these together?”
The corners of your mouth lift, and you take the cigarettes from under Steve’s hand, your other stuff also being pushed into your purse from the wooden surface to clear it off. You push yourself back up to sit on it, and gaze into your boyfriend’s eyes, lit up the same way they were when he was talking about cars earlier. “Yeah.” The eye contact breaks so you can look at the clock, too. “Ten minutes, Stevie. I’m countin’ them down,” you tell him, a jokingly stern look painting your face.
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