#give me an old wurlitzer that still plays 45s

[rustbeltjessie]

somebody must have an orphanage for all these things nobody wants anymore // November 15, 2023 (Racine, WI)

[detroitbydark]

can we pretty please get a fluff blurb based on harrison giving you his varsity jacket that he wore in his insta post? please?

No warnings here. This is probably the tamest, most G rated things I’ll ever write and I absolutely love it. This is the first time in probably a month where I’ve really enjoyed writing something and felt like some of me was actually in it. Thank You!!  

So Here is the 1950′s AU no one asked for but I gave them regardless. I know it probably wasn't what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it regardless.     

You glanced at your math book as the Wurlitzer across the dining room swapped out one 45 for the next. The Five Satins has just finished crooning on about what happened ‘In The Still of the Night’. As the next record falls into place you glance nervously past your milkshake to the teens a few booths down. You have to bite your lip to keep from sighing.

Harrison Osterfield, star athlete in just about every sport he went out for, sat with a few buddies and their girls. You tried to be inconspicuous as you watched him smiling and joking. You’d been borderline obsessed with him since the 4th grade when your family had moved to town and bought the dinner, back when he’d been the only kid that had made the shy little girl feel welcome on her first day in a new school. Of course, you’d faded to the background of everything soon enough. You’d been so timid at the time. Even as you’d both grown older and Harrison’s star had begun to shine he still offered you a smile in the hallway when you passed. 

 It was such a cliche. The bookworm in the love with the football captain.

The first few bars of the next song had you laughing and shaking your head as you glanced back down at your textbook.

“Why do fools fall in love, Frankie?” You muttered as Frankie Lymon continued to ask his questions. Somehow when Harrison was in the dinner the jukebox always seemed to play something that struck you just so. Coincidence, you were sure.

You closed your book as you glanced at the clock on the wall. Your shift was going to start in just a few minutes and you needed to put your school work away and get your apron on. As if to emphasize the point your Dad poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Anytime now, Peaches…”

You felt your cheeks flush bright pink as you heard the laughs erupt from the other table.

“Peaches? I would just shit twice and die!” One of the girls, Betty Markle, explained from her spot pressed against Harrison’s side. When you dared to glance over, cheeks burning with embarrassment, Harrison catches your eye and for a split second it was just you, those fabulous baby blues, and your skipping heart. 

And then Betty ruined it.

“Run along…Peaches.” She cackled, shooing you along with pristine hands and perfect fingernails. The kind that had never worked a day in their life. The kind that got to hold the hand of the star quarterback.

Making sure to keep your eyes averted you made your way back into the kitchen, hands fulls of homework and your empty cup.

“Everything ok, Peaches?” Your Dad asks with a cock of his head.

“I’m good, Daddy, just trying to figure out this math” you lied smoothly.

“You’ll get it Sweetheart. Lord knows your smarter than your old man.”

You give your dad a soft smile and a roll of your eyes before you slip your apron on and tie a loose bow in the back. Before you head out you slide your arms into your old worn cardigan. It was fall and a chill was in the air.

“Peaches, baby, Wanda is going on break can you help her with her tables?”

You give a nod as you scan the room. There’s four occupied tables with Harrison’s group being the closest to you. You start with the farthest hoping Wanda would be done with her break before you’d get to them.

The regulars smile at you as you refill waters and take orders. You bring a sundae out for the Horowitz’s with two spoons. They were well into their 80’s and honestly the cutest couple you’d ever seen. You hoped someday you had something even half as amazing as what they seemed to have. Mrs Horowitz chatted with you in her thick Austrian accent while her husband made short work of the whipped cream on top of the sundae, pushing the lone red cherry in her direction.

“When are you gonna find a boy to share a sundae with?” She asks conspiratorially. You shake your head. You hoped she wasn’t trying to set you up with her nephew again.

“Not on my to-do list right now.” You say, smiling shyly. You watch her eyes dart behind you.

“I think that young man over there would do.”

Without a second thought you glance over to find Harrison smiling your way. Your head snaps back quickly and the elderly woman chuckles.

“He probably just wants some more fries.” You explain quickly. “He always gets more than he orders to start with” you’re babbling now, praying that Wanda comes back. Mrs Horowitz hums as you continue “in fact, last week he came in and had two malts and three orders of fries. I mean, I don’t know where he puts it all…” you trail off feeling foolish and the woman gives you a soft smile.

“Maybe you should go see what he needs, no?”

You take a fortifying breath before you nod and turn. Your shoes squeak on the linoleum and you try to hide the cringe that hits you. Your shoes weren’t as pretty or as shiny as the other girl’s saddle shoes and weren’t nearly as trendy as the neat ballet flats you’d seen Audrey Hepburn wearing, the same kind Betty and her friend were wearing now as you approach their table.

For the most part the looks that great you are vaguely friendly but there’s a glint in Betty’s eye as you turn your attention to Harrison that puts you ill at ease.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing on that algebra assignment?” He asks throwing you off. Of course you knew he was in your class but you’d never realized he noticed you in it. You fiddle with a button on your cardigan.

“I mean, I think I’ve got it but-“

“I could use some more water.” Betty’s face is sour as she asks. She points to her glass as if you couldn’t see that it was half full.

“I’m sorry” you stutter out, turning quickly to grab a pitcher of water. You hear Harrison’s voice, gruff and irritated but you can’t make out what he’s saying. Betty’s face looks even more pinched when you get back, like she’s sucked on a lemon. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest but you don’t care because Harrison is all smiles when he looks your way.

“So are you going to the game Friday?” He asks and you think it’s a real nice thing he’s doing trying to make conversation, be friendly. He must not realize that girls like you don’t go to football games. You shake your head, chew your lip (a horrible nervous habit your Mom had hated).

“I really need to work on the essay for English. Footballs not really my thing.” You try to explain. His smile falters. His buddies and the girls have begun chatting, seeming to have forgotten you, except Betty staring daggers. If looks could kill…

“Aww, come on Y/N. You should give it a try. You might have fun.” You watch him snap his fingers as if he’s just been hit with a brilliant idea. “If you come to the game I’ll let you borrow my practice jersey to wear.”

The table goes quiet with the exception of the strangled sound Betty makes in the back of her throat. You feel your face flushing as you try to stammer out an answer. How was he asking you to wear his jersey? As far as you knew Harrison Osterfield didn’t even know you existed. Those blues are probing you, like he’s willing you to say 'yes’. He runs a hand through his hair and, God above, you nearly swoon at his attention.

Suddenly there’s a wet splash and water and chocolate malt is splashing across the table. The pitcher is laying on its side as you suck in a sharp breath at the cold shock you’ve received. Your skirt is soaked and your white blouse is clinging to you in a way that makes you feel embarrassed and ashamed.

“What the hell, Betty!” Harrison is growling at the girl who holds her hands up.

“It was an accident Haz. Butterfingers, ya know.” You can’t even look her in the face. “I’m sure Y/N knows it was an accident, right?” her voice is saccharine sweet and as fake as the color of her hair.

“Y/N…” you don’t give Harrison a chance to say anything as hot tears prick at your eyes. You glimpse Wanda pulling her apron on from the corner of your eye. Her knowing gaze is already focused in on the table. She doesn’t try to stop you as you rush back into the kitchen and the small break room.

“I think it’s time ya’ll got your check.” She says firmly as Harrison watches the kitchen door swing on its hinges.

———

You sit in the back stoop for far longer than you should. Your dad stops out to check on you and ruffle your hair. You didn’t have a change of clothes and the chill of the air makes you shiver but it’s also cooling the hot rush of embarrassment you feel each time you think about what happened earlier. Wanda gave you the all clear after the group had cashed out but here you sat, not ready to go back to the scene of the crime.

If the ground could swallow you up whole you would happily allow it. You dread thinking about school the next day, about the smirk that Betty’s going to be wearing and the whispers and laughs you’ll hear in the halls. You let your head fall into your hands as you try to forget about everything.

“Um….hey, Y/N?” The sound of Harrison Osterfield’s voice has you sitting straight up. You move to stand and go back inside. 

“Please don’t go" His voice is pleading.

“Why, so you can laugh at me too?” You feel anger rising, flaming to life in your chest. Harrison takes in your narrowed eyes, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I come in peace, yeah? That was a messed up thing Betty did. I’m really sorry. Nobody else thought it was funny.”

Just as soon as the anger roared to life it’s flickering out. Your shoulders slump and you smooth your skirt. Your cardigan had taken the brunt of the milkshake while your blouse had gotten a couple splashes of chocolate but mostly the icy water. You’d be lucky if you could get the stains out of the cardigan. Wanda had mixed up a “fool proof" stain cleaner in the kitchen and it was currently soaking in a pot on the counter next to a pot of your dad’s famous chili. You shiver slightly as a soft breeze ruffles the hem of your skirt. 

“I suppose I can’t blame her for being mad” you say towing at one of the steps “her boyfriend offered another girl his jersey. Of course she was mad.” 

You jump when Harrison barks out a laugh. He quickly sobers when he sees you huff. 

“Y/N, Betty isn’t my girlfriend. We’re not together. Not saying that’s not what she wants but I…” He takes a couple steps toward you, stopping at the bottom of the stoop. “Come on, you’ve got to realize I’ve been trying to ask you on a date for months.”

You try to stop your mouth from dropping open because, for all your smarts, that possibility had never even crossed your mind. Harrison gives you a lop-sided smile as he comes to stand one step below you. His eyes are nearly level with yours and you allow yourself a moment to appreciate how they crease at the corners when he smiles.

“I was so sick last week-“

“I just thought you liked fries…?” You can hear the hesitancy in your voice. Harrison’s fingers bump against yours and you look down as he takes one of you hands in his, rising to the same step you’re on. His fingers are rough and calloused. His class ring is cool against your skin.

“After last week, I could die happy without ever eating another fry in my life. I just wanted to see you and… God, I was trying to get the courage up to ask you to come to the game but I just couldn’t.”

It’s your turn to laugh. Why would Harrison need courage to ask you anything? You ask him as much.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Harrison’s free hand brushes against you cheek and goosebumps run amok on your arms. He misinterprets it and before you can correct him he’s pulling his Letterman jacket off and draping it around your shoulders. It swallows you whole but its broken in and warm. And it smells like how you always thought he’d smell, leather and after shave, smoke from a bonfire.  “You are so beautiful and smart and…. I can’t keep my eyes off of you. The guys have been ribbing me forever about it. You really didn’t know?”

You shake your head dumbly. You’d missed that one for sure. 

“So you want me to go to the game friday…”

“And wear my jersey.”

“And wear your jersey.”

“Because you like me.”

“Loads” He gives you that 10,000 watt smile and you return it with a shy one of your own. “And afterwards you’ll let me take you for a bite to eat or to a bonfire or…. I don’t care. I just want to spend time with you.”

You’re Mom had read you fairy tales as a little girl. You’d loved them but you’d never once thought you’d be in one. That’s what this was.  “OK.” You say finally.  He looks at you like he’s won the lottery. You’d only ever dreamed he’d be looking at you like he was now. 

“Can I walk you home?” He’s nearly vibrating  with excitement and you feel the same way.

“Let me run inside and see if I can find a sweater to wear.”   

Harrison shakes his head, “Just wear my jacket. It looks good on you.”

[kazosa]

Missed You

Wrote this last night when I wasn’t sleeping… Stuff happened… Anyway, it’s a CHOOSE YOUR WINCHESTER type story but still a reader insert. Just imagine it’s YOUR Winchester. Hope you like it, I was pretty tired! LOL

The Winchesters and the reader go way back. The reader fell in love with ____. For some reason, they broke off their relationship, until he walks into her bar one night.

     The one person in your life whom you’d always hoped would turn back up, but never, in a million years, thought he ever would, just walked through the door to your bar. The fact that you didn’t even own it when you knew him, made it that much more of a coincidence.

     You thought of him every time you lined up a shot on your pool table. He was the one that taught you how to play, how to hustle. You were playing pool against some punk kids from the local air force base. They probably thought you’d be easy to beat and you were almost done proving them wrong.

     “Eight ball, corner pocket,” you indicated your pocket with the tip of the cue. With one gentle stroke, the eight ball sank into the desired pocket and the game was over. You picked up your fat stack of cash.

     “Thank you, boys. I was a pleasure taking your money,” you said.

     Your waitress, Jeanie, was watching closely, knowing how your style of hustle worked. The young ones always bet big not knowing yet when to chill out. There had to be close to two of their full paychecks in that stack of bills. You were barely aware of your handsome friend standing at the bar talking to Carl, your bartender. As the kids walked away to settle their tab with Carl, you put two hundred in your pocket and gave the rest to Janie to give back to the kids, the ruse being she thought they dropped it.

     You walked quickly to the nearby bathroom to freshen up knowing Jeanie would give the money back to the two young men. You’d give fifty to both Jeanie and Carl when you got out of the bathroom. It was for their part in helping you. You hadn’t forgotten about the handsome man that had walked into your bar after not seeing him for at least ten years…

     Checking yourself in the mirror before heading back out, you smooth down your hair and call it good. Your unruly tresses would never be tamed. Playing something on the jukebox would help you calm down. You didn’t have a digital one like most places had these days. Local radio played over the speakers and when someone played from the jukebox, the radio would drop out and the jukebox would pipe up. Somehow, Bobby had found you an old Wurlitzer and sent it to you. You’d filled it with all of your favorite music on .45s.

     Carl had your drink ready for you at the bar and you pulled out the winnings and divvied up the portions to your loyal workers.

     “You ever gonna quit hustling the customers, boss?” Carl asked.

     “Doubt it. I give most of it back,” you defended yourself. “Both sides win.”

     “What do you get out of it though?” he wanted to know.

     “The satisfaction of whooping their dumbasses,” you grinned, not sorry in the least. Those boys were cocky and kept saying how good you were “for a girl.” They thought they would take you in a best of three, but you’d only needed the two games.

     You’d just taken a sip of your favorite drink when one of the .45s from the Wurlitzer started playing, the beginning guitar notes of “The Weight” by the Band reached your ears. You didn’t have to look, you knew it was him at the jukebox…

     “Excuse me,” you noticed his voice had gotten deeper, “would you like to dance?”

     You turned around to look up at the most handsome man you had ever known.

     “Hi princess,” he looked at you with kind eyes. “Been a long time.”

     You only nodded, unable to find words, instead you gulped your drink in hopes the alcohol would loosen your voice.

     “How about that dance?” he asked gently.

     You took the hand he offered, ignoring the shocked stares from Jeanie and Carl, as he led you to the small dance space near the jukebox. It felt so good to be holding his hand again, knowing this was real and not a dream. Once on the dance floor, he pulled you to him, unsure how you’d respond. He put his finger under your chin.

     “Look at me, sweetheart,” he said.

     The boy you’d known had changed into the man in front of you. Your eyes went over every inch of his face, every wrinkle, every scar telling you a story. It was his eyes that had changed the most. When you’d known him, his eyes had shone with the bright cockiness of youth. Now that he was older, they were still bright, but the shadows of heartbreak and loss had threatened to cloud them. A small smile touched the corners of his mouth.

     “Still as beautiful as the last time I saw you,” he said, putting his arm around you and clasping your hand to his chest, gently swaying with the music. “I’ve missed you.”

     You leaned into him, your arm around his waist, head resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your cheek.

     “I should never have left you,” he said swaying with you to Blind Faith’s “Can’t Find My Way Home.”

     “I’ve missed you, too,” you admitted. “Are you staying now?”

     “I came here for you, hoping I could convince you to come with us.”

     “Us? Your brother?” you looked up at him. “You’re still hunting, both of you?”

     He knew it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. It would be nice to have a normal life again, but that just wasn’t in the cards for him and he accepted that now. What he wanted was what kind of normal life he could have with you, and his brother, hunting. He wanted to spend forever with you, no matter how short or long it might be.

     You’d missed him terribly and the adventures you’d gone on with him and his brother and that gorgeous car. Knowing what was out there, saving the world gave you comfort, but you’d always wished you were with them. You noticed the weird things in the newspapers, you’d seen the weird things occasionally pop up in your town. Ever since buying the bar, you’d kept a go-bag stashed under the bar for whatever big-bad found its way to your door.

     “We never really stopped,” he said. “Will you come with us?” He stopped swaying to look down at you.

     You couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, “Let me tell Carl and Jeanie what’s going on.” You got up on your toes and lightly kissed his lips. God, you’d missed him. You’d noticed the wave of relief wash over him. You’d go to the end of the world with him, he needed only to ask. He gave you the smile you remembered and saw the boy you fell in love with so long ago once again.

     Carl told you you were crazy, but he smiled at you as he handed you your go-bag from under the bar.

     “Don’t forget to check in once in a while!” he called after you as you dashed out the door with the love of your life.

     The coolest classic car you’d ever had the pleasure of riding in was sitting in the parking lot in an easy to get out of space. She still looked beautiful. They’d taken good care of her. His brother was sleeping in the back seat so you and he slipped in as quietly as you could.

     Feeling the same excitement you always did when you went on an adventure with him, you looked over to see if he was feeling the same way. It was like no time had passed between you two. You slid back over the bench seat to him like magnets drawn to one another. You kissed him with everything you had.

     “Could you not do that while I’m in the car?” his brother said from the back seat.

     “Hi, sweetie,” you said to him, huge grin plastered on your face.

     He looked at you through sleepy eyes. When it dawned on him who you were, he immediately sat up and hugged you from behind, kissing your cheek.

     “Damn good to see you, (Y|N),” he said. “Now maybe my brother can quit moping every time we come up this way.”

     Your love started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, hurtling the three of you down the lonesome main street of your hometwown and down the highway. You’d miss Jeanie and Carl, but not nearly as much as you had missed Dean and Sam. Being in that car with them felt good, it felt right. This was where you belonged and it felt good to be back.

     Nothing is ever perfect, but when you’re with the one you love, even the moments that aren’t perfect feel perfect. You had him back and nothing would ever change that, you wouldn’t let it.