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The Fab Four - Blog Posts
Hmm, I could list a few things I've seen that strike me as fairly common, though of course they'll be different for everyone. These are just generalizations I feel like I see crop up a lot; maybe they'll help you get your feet wet with the fandom’s lore.
Obviously, the Fab Four are barely in the comic, but there seem to be some commonalities to their characterization that the fandom has built. For example, I feel like Fun Ghoul is typically fairly chaotic, probably the most so out of the main four, and on the reckless side. He’s probably the funniest. Also, he’s often skilled with explosives and quite fond of blowing things up. Party Poison is the leader, sassy, and often has a temper. Party laughs loud and shouts louder. I think Poison is also the one of the Fab Four most frequently cast as non-binary, but the gender of all the characters varies quite widely across fanon. There was a movement recently against Jet Star being cast as the Mom Friend, but I feel like he's still widely regarded as sort of a mediating force and generally a bit more on the thoughtful side, though obviously they can all be wild at times (there’s a certain minimum of chaotic energy required to be a Killjoy). Kobra Kid typically loves his motorcycle and likes to race it; I feel like he's usually kind of a cool dude(tm), or at least tries to be. And, naturally, Kobra and Party are almost always siblings.
Outside of the Fab Four, Cherri Cola writes poetry and has a poetry corner segment on his radio show; he's usually sweet and rather melancholy. Show Pony is even more chaotic than Ghoul, highly flirtatious, and even more widely headcanoned as nonbinary than Poison--I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone use "he" pronouns for Pony (though the actor in the music videos does for himself, but that’s not really relevant to fanon about the character). Dr. Death-Defying is something of a guardian of all the Killjoys, borderline omniscient at times with his radio broadcasts, and he serves as the grounding force behind a rowdy, chaotic gaggle of teenage rebels. His couch is always there for new Killjoys to crash on. He’s a comforting presence and a source of wisdom (though again, I’d say a certain amount of chaotic energy is present in all Killjoys, Dr. D included).
Anyways, I'm basically trying to summarize the headcanons of a bunch of people at once, and as it’s been said before, things are different for everyone. Just because I see these as throughlines for these characters doesn’t mean that they will be for everyone. But, those are some general impressions I’ve gotten through the fandom.
Also I realize I really only went for basic character descriptions, rather than anything about the setting or other lore, so let me know if there’s any other area of fanon I should attempt to sum up and I’d be happy to try :)
Could you maybe give a crash course on killjoy fanon? Like I read the comic and I just got here and I’m hella confused. I almost feel like I read a different comic than y’all lol
Okay my answer won't be good, you came to the wrong blog for something coherent, but if anyone sees this and would like to add on, please do!
I'm gonna start by saying basically there's just what little canon they gave us and you just make what you want with it, your own set of hcs and worlbuilding and characters' races and sexualities and genders and whatnot, it's free real estate.if the canon doesn't spark joy, you can throw it away,have fun with this.
I've been trying to write an answer for a couple of hours but i have nothing, I'm sorry this wasn't helpful at all. Someone give an answer to this?
Me, far out of my Whovian depths, scrolling through Killjoy stuff: Hey this artist’s style reminds me of Johannesviii.
*Sees whose art it is*
WAiT a SeCoND!
*whispers: they’re e v e r y w h e r e *
Anyways I am glad they are having a nice, restful nap. They definitely needed it.
The Killjoys can have a little nap… as a treat
(yeah I know they have a car in the music videos, not bikes)
Keep reading
George Harrison x classmate reader
Warning: I'm projecting A LOT here. I think this ones gonna b kiiiiinda long but I did take my time on it
Summary: you go to a small school and seeing George is the highlight of your day. Something happens and a simple chemistry project brings the two of you together
Your painfully small school had always seemed rather dull to you.
It certainly was quite the contrast compared to the big city you had moved there from, cramped and uncomfortable to your wide and spacious. You didn't know hardly anyone, and the people who did know you found you too strange to like all that much. Someone so big-city and upfront like was usually a bit too much for these small town people. All this made your school life more boring and bordering on miserable for you.
As the days ran their course, dragging on slower than anyone would think possible, and it seemed there might not be anything good to this school or area. Seemed.
Except for those few times a week that would seem to brighten up your whole week, maybe whole month. Maybe longer. Those were the times when you got to your favourite class of the day, which was chemistry. This wasn't because of the classroom, or the teacher, or the coursework, or the students, but because of one specific student in that class that would always manage to catch your eye.
Most of the other students would avoid him due to his appearance, the stand-out leather jacket, the hulking messed up mat of hair. That coupled with the quiet and reserved air he had about him, people were either too intimidated by him or fawning over him. but God. You couldnt help but admire everything about him.
He played in a band, one that had recently gotten popular down at the local club, the cavern club. Everyone in the class knew that about him but most didn't realize how much his work consumed him. his tendencies to get distracted all class, his habit of falling asleep mid-lesson, him always being jittery or out of sorts because he would either be up so late playing a gig or practicing for the next one.
Everyone in the class knew that the cavern was an exclusive-type deal, with few becoming members in spite of its popularity. Your classmates from period to period would talk about how popular they were getting, so even you knew about the upcoming gig that the already infamous Beatles were set to play the following Saturday.
You noticed all his tendencies much more than you would ever like to admit. He would always be stamping one foot lightly, or humming a tune -- making the melody of what might be a new song. He would always fidget with his pencil in between working and had the horrible habit of not hardly getting any classwork done for one reason or another.
You were the one who was usally assigned to work on class projects with him, partially to help him up his grade, partially because you were the most neutral one in the class. Or so most people thought. You thought that too, for a long time. After all, it was you who least expected to fall so very hard for him in the way that you did.
His every motion, every word had you enchanted. You did try to work hard as you normally would, but he proved a decent distraction from the daily monotony. Through classes, you stole glances but tried not to stare. Through It was when you were assigned to a massive group project together, one that most of his (and your) grade was leaning on.
you hoped it would pose the perfect opportunity to get a little closer to him.
The project involves you both making a surprisingly large poster. How this would benefit you, you werent sure, but he needed the extra boost to his grade. Getting to work you both began cutting, pasting, writing, researching.
"feels a bit like kid's work, eh?" He would joke, smiling up at you In that toothy way he did.
You nod back shyly. It did feel pointless, childish. But you weren't one to complain. Not when you got a good excuse to spend time with him, at least.
The assignment proved tougher than you thought it would be, especially with the small work space given to you. It's not like they had much to work with in the first place; it was a small school in a town that felt even smaller. To say that you had limited resources would be a harsh understatement, but you had to work with it.
Though, limited resources did mean a small workspace, crowded and jammed next to all the other students in the small and yet claustrophobic classroom.
This meant that you shared the same tiny table space with George. It was certainly close quarters, Elbow to elbow and with hardy any room to move.
He would tape or glue down a part of the poster, only to look up and make eye contact with you, his soft brown eyes meeting yours. He would reach around you to grab a pair of scissors and you could hear his breathing, feel him hardy centimeters away from your body.
Then when you spaced out and he would tap your hand lightly to get your attention, the contact making you flush and tearing your attention back to the present moment. You didn't realize it but you had practically been staring, stumbling and been acting a shaky mess the entire time you worked.
It wasn't like he didn't notice this, of course he did. He almost found it funny. He would chuckle under his breath so you couldn't hear it when he caught you staring at him. Then, when he noticed how frazzled you got when he touched you, even in the smallest ways, he began doing it more often. Brushing his arm up against yours when he reached across the table or touching his hand to yours when passing you a pencil, subtle motions so you could feel him at all times.
When work on the project slowed down and you stood up to admire the work, George kicked his feet up on the table, and it seemed he was fumbling for a cig.
Reaching through the pocket of his leather coat, rummaging in search of the box he stops to look up and ask you if you "had a light on ya."
Before you reach to grab anything he says again "could really use it after all that" and shoots a wink in your direction.
You almost miss the subtle gesture, and barely catch onto his flirtation.
A bit flushed, you rummage through your sweater's thick pockets in search for the box of matches that you knew was buried there. Flipping the small box open and fumbling to light the match, you hold the flame up to his lips.
George leans back in his seat, taking a casual drag from the cig between his teeth. When he exhales the smoke, You almost swear that his eyes linger on you. It seems like hes taking In the sight of you, all your features from head to toe. You don't have much time to think on his stolen glances, however, as your professor calls the class' attention to her, making you both turn your heads.
The project has come to a close and all the students have to clean up supplies in preparation for whatever you all do next. The teacher instructs the class to put everything back in its place and you offer to run some things over to the trash.
"should I take this too?" You motion to a pile of glue and scissors.
"fine by me, though I would hate to make such a pretty lass do all the work"
He takes another drag of the cigarette, deliberately leaning away so the teacher wouldn't catch him in the act, keeping his eyes focused on you while he did so. "I'll get the paper scraps"
You nod, face a little flush as you picked up the scissors and glue, making your way over to the opposite side of the room. Your mind couldn't help but linger on the way he looked at you; that glint in his eyes, the toothy way he smiled and the almost teasing way that he approached talking to you.
You liked him, for sure. It was clear you were over the moon but now it felt like something was changing between the two of you.
You put the scissors back into their place, then walked over to where the glue was sitting.
He seemed to be . . . flirting? You thought that had to be the case with how he was acting. Though your fear told you otherwise. You worried he had caught on to your subtle affections, how could he though? when you hadn't even hinted at them. You didn't think you came off as obvious, did you? The thought crossed your mind that he probably just had a genuine interest in you, Could he like you back? In the same way?
You rolled the idea around in your head as you set the glue down, your thoughts running a mile a minute. Which, was in fact too fast for you to notice that you had left your box of matches sitting on the table next to George. You hadn't time to notice how he, out of fear of the teacher catching him smoking, of course, had taken the box of matches in his hand. And you were far too focused to notice how he took the pen used for the project and scrawled out his phone number on the inside flap of the box.
So you turn around and you walk back to George to see him setting the matchbox down at your seat and standing up "ya left this" he said simply as he shuffled over to the trash can to toss the scraps out.
unaware of what he had done, you slip the box of matches back into their place in your pocket and think nothing of what happened.
as the project wraps up and the class prepares to leave, George turns to face you
“ey, thanks for the help. I’d be failing without ya”
smiling you say “not a problem. Always” as you slide back down into your chair, the bell for that period rings, signaling the end of the class.
As the day came to a close and you got home, you settled down back at your house.
You flipped out a cigarette, and, Rummaging through your jackets pocket, you pulled out your matchbox, opening it to find a number signed with "call me - geo <3"
your face flushes.
You had a spare minute and this almost gurenteed that he had been flirting. What else was there to do but phone him?
In more of a hurry than you expected to be in, you rushed for the phone and dialed each number on the box, anxiously awaiting his answer. Luckily, he was probably near the phone and picked up right away.
"y/n? This you? I can't believe you actually called!'
He seems excited. Oh he seems excited.
"of course I would. How could I not" You respond simply
"y'know, I wanted to phone ya to tell ya something. You ever hear of the cavern club, y/n?"
Was he about to ask you out to a club? Dancing with George sure sounded fun. You had heard of the cavern, of course you had heard of the cavern. Everyone knew of it and everyone knew George played there.
"course I've heard of it. Don't you play in a band there?"
"ya. The Beatles, we've been playing non-stop lately. Getting bigger, I think"
George pauses, leaving a small opening for you to say something but you stay silent.
"ever been?' he questions
"no, but I'd like to" you respond.
"you really should go, I'd love to have you there. We could have a bite to eat after?"
'Yeah! That sounds nice" you say, excited and surprised by his offer
"would be nice to have such a pretty bird keeping me company"
You rush to respond but before you get the chance George shoots you a hurried "hope to see you there!" And you hear the line go dead leaving you to assume he's put the phone down. In spite of him, his nerves had got the best of him as he set down the telephone and slumped over next to it. Nerves on high, the only thing George could do was hope that he didn't offend you and hope you showed up to catch his show.
And that's exactly what you would do. After he gave you the rest of the details in the middle of chemistry, you knew you wanted to go.
So that same Saturday you got ready to go to his gig. You put on what you assumed was the most rockin outfit you owned. Your same leather coat paired with a dark sweater that complimented it and your shoes. You fumbled through your pocket for the membership card to the cavern he had given you, pulling it out of your jacket pocket to eye it. Feeling the smooth surface of the pamphlet you had signed, you couldn't help but get excited for his show. Your heart raced at the thought of him onstage, his hands against the fretboard and his eyes lowered to look your way as you smiled from the audience. Would he wink up at you? And what would he be like afterwards?
You had to save these thoughts for later as you got to the club, music filling the air and people, some familiar and some foreign, crowding the surrounding area.
You checked in with the membership paper, then stepped into the crowded club, unsure of how things would all turn out but excited to finally get to see more of George.
As the music filled the air and people crowded the floor, you wandered over to your seat for the show.
George played and he definitely played well. They all did, of course they did. The performance was a few other bands on first, then they came on fourth. The Beatles did a few covers, none all that bad; you liked the show and you swore you could see George stealing glances at you as you smiled up at them.
The show came to a close and some folks stayed around. Fangirls, admirers, friends of the members and a handful of people there to cheer on the bands that had given their performances.
Glancing around, you scanned the small bar for any sign of George or the other Beatles. You stopped in your tracks when you heard a whistle come from across the cluttered area.
Turning around, you saw George winking at you and gesturing for you to walk over and join him. You noticed his mates were off making talk with some other fans, so that left the two of you alone together.
"y/n! Almost didn't think you'd come. So how'd you like the show?"
"oh, it was great! I can definitely see why you're all local celebrities" you nudge George, joking a little bit
George leans down to look you in the eye and motions over to the bar nearby "what do you say we get us something to eat, huh?" He looks over to his band mates, signaling for them to let him leave you to it, to which he was met with chuckles and whistles from John and Paul.
You nod up at him, a shy smile on your face. George guides you over to a table in a secluded area of the cavern.
George looked down at you, menu in hand " they've got real good sandwiches here, y'know. Good bar food too."
A short pause
He nodded at you "dyou know what you want?"
You glanced down at the menu, then back up at him. The two of you seemed to hold eye contact for a moment, long enough for you to catch a loving look in his eyes before you passed the menu back to him saying "I think I'll have whatever you get"
George walked over to get order, leaving you at the table alone, but only for a brief moment.
The food was quick to get to you, and, he was right. It sure was good, even if a little overcooked but definitely way better than you expected it to be.
George ate quickly, almost like eating the cavern's food had become second nature to him with all the long nights he had spent there.
"howre ya liking it?" He asked as you took your first bite, he smiled down at you between mouthfuls of food.
"it's good" you replied.
In one moment, the room filled with soft music as another band came onstage to play a simple melody, you assumed they were only there for the sake of background noise.
As the night winded down, you and George ate to the sounds of the soft melodies drifting through the air.
You observed the band from across the room. They seemed to be a jazz group, and a rather small one for the kind of music that they played. In spite of this, the tune they had going seemed to be both dance-worthy and soothing to all the people in the club.
You got so lost in the atmosphere that almost didn't notice when George spoke to you, absentmindedly
"y'know, I was right nervous to call you. Ya should've seen me, making the whole telephone shake like that"
You weren't sure how to respond but it didn't seem you needed to, since he had more to say
"I've always fancied you, y/n."
George picked up his fork and made like he was playing with his food as he looked up at you, a sort of longing in his eyes.
"you're so smart. Bloody smart, cute, Witty, all those nice words"
You look up at him in surprise, as you feel your face grow redder. you don't know what else to do. You had suspected something like this but had no idea he would be so open about it. Maybe he was only trying to flatter you?
"right. If I keep freting over this it's gonna eat me alive" he continues, setting down his food to look you right in the eye, then taking your hands in his own.
"y/n. Ah. . . I know this might be a bit soon but, is this be a date?"
You glance back up at him, slightly surprised. Now you don't think he's just laying on the flattery.
"I'd. . I would like it to be. If you want it to be" you hesitate, his nerves wearing off on you
"right. Wait, really?" He beams that toothy grin of his, leaning over the table to look in your eyes
"yes, really! I've had the hots for you for a minute, George."
His eyes and smile widen
"Bloody hell. I hardly noticed! I was worried that I was coming on too strong. Huh."
Shaking your head, you assured him that wasn't it at all.
-
The chairs scratching against the floor, George and you both stood up at the same time, preparing to leave.
George looks behind you, like he's just noticed something. Turning around in your seat, you notice paul motioning over to him.
He walks over to Paul, you guessed that he had to remind him of something.
"Well, I've gotta run back and grab my guitar. Looks like I left it backstage."
George was back, standing next to you and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Thought Tumblr would like my Altoid wallets of the Beatles. Gonna make one 4 Bowie or the other two if I can find more Altoids.
idk why George is sideways ignore him
Record player // George Harrison x reader
Warningz: Not revised at all, kinda rushed. Gn reader
Summary: meeting George and the other Beatles (only Paul + John) at a record store. 1962
Note!!!: this is my first time writing 4 George so if it sucked that's why!! This wasn't revised but I think it's fine lol
You slip on your coat and your shoes, flicking the lights out before locking your front door and stepping outside into the chilled air. It was a nice, slightly breezy day out and You had decided to head out to a small record store you had seen downtown.
You're house wasn't too terribly far and, as aforementioned, the weather was surprisingly nice that day. You walked past your apartment, then down the street, the wind blowing lightly against your face. You turn a corner or two, leading you up to the front step of the small, brick building housing the record shop. As you step in, you find yourself inside a warm and dimly lit brick shop, filled with musical instruments and records of all genres. The place is dusty and a little dingy, but not at all in a bad way. A record player sits off to the side next to the checkout counter, and the wall opposite it is lined with various instruments, (mainly string) with one lone drum kit resting in the corner.
As you walk in, you greet the cashier politely and begin to walk around, exploring the unfamiliar store. You flip through the records closest to the counter, beginning with the jazz, just searching for anything that you might like.
The shop was small and relatively empty aside from your quiet presence.The records were organized in alphabetical order, so that was the order by which you searched them, taking out and holding any that interested you. Through the A's, B's, C's, then to the D's and. .. . . You turn your head to look at who enters as the shops bells ring
A loud clamour interrupted the quiet atmosphere of the small shop as a group of three ragged boys walked in, instruments in hand. One boy, the one with an almost baby-faced look (Paul obviously) haphazardly set a guitar onto the front counter, asking if the guitar could be repaired. You tried hard not to stare as you eyed the instrument, it was in rough condition alright. The sides of it had burn marks on it and the whole fretboard looked as if it had been run over by a bike. Poor thing.
In spite of this condition, the boy just leaned a leather sleeve covered arm against the glass counter and gave the shop owner a cheeky grin. The taller One of his mates shakes his head at the boy, while the other seems to be looking away and smoking a cigarette, nonchalant about the situation. You glance back down, opting to focus back on the records and silently watch how this whole scenario might unfold.
The lad with the dainty face, who you soon find out is named Paul, starts trying to convince the store owner that surely the guitar isnt beyond repair. Because of the small size of the store, you have no choice but to overhear all of this, listening to the interaction as your fingers trace their way over to the E section. ..Elvis. . .Ella Fitzgerald. . . You took notice of how some of the records were out of order, like someone had put them back that way and they just hadn't been checked. Without realizing it, you soon become engrossed in the task of looking at the records, picking up new ones every so often.
You don't look at the group any more because of your focus, and cease to notice how the group had mostly dispersed across the store. It seemed that Paul had shifted from trying to convince with the owner to just settling for buying a new guitar, and was browsing around along with one of his mates. The third one, taller with an obviously curled mop on his head for hair, was peeking over, eyeing the records just across from you.
You hardly notice him, then hear a sudden "thunk!" Which wakes you up from this focussed state. You look over to see the source of the sound, eyes falling upon the taller lad as he reaches down to pick up the record he dropped, at least that's what you figured considering the noise and the timing. his eyes meet yours for a long second before he reaches a lanky hand back to the shelf putting the record back in its place.
You try your best not to notice, but as you continue browsing, the same lad seems to be stealing glances in your direction. He hadn't noticed you prior to locking eyes with you when he dropped the record, and it had just then sunken in to him that there was someone so beautiful and eye-catching next to him.
Time had passed with you taking your time to look through the store. Soon enough, his friends take notice of his quite obvious interest in you, with Paul elbowing him and telling him to quit his staring, and the other saying he ought to make a move before you notice and think hes creepy.
You begin glancing around the shop, searching for a title of a record you would recognize, looking, scanning, searching and. . . . finding it. You calmly walk over to the record, it was one from an artist you had enjoyed listening to in the past and wanted to hear more music from, so you were so happy to find that they had that. You try to pull the record out from the shelf it was on, only to find that it was so wedged in between others that it would hardly budge. You spend what had to have been at least two minutes tugging at the vinyl before you heard a "need any help?" Coming from the taller lad, who was now at your side. "Uh, yeah that would be great." You reply, glad to at least get the record out. He pries it out with ease, handing it to you almost in one whole motion. "There. Glad I could help ya"
You look up at him as hes speaking, now noticing how cute his face seems, with his prominent canines that almost resemble fangs alongside his well shaped jaw and lovely dark brown eyes. He looks down at you in a caring way, passing the vinyl over to you. You then take it in your hands, your cheeks reddening slightly as he continues to gaze at you for a moment.
You notice that from behind him, one of his friends seem to be looking at the two of you, one snickering and the other half whisper half chanting, sort of cheering him on.
He looks back at his friends before looking shyly back down at you. "Ey, . . . Good choice, that's a nice album, great listen" he motions to the record, now in your hand. you could feel yourself acting shyer than usual, considering how attractive he was "oh, yeah. Thank you. I haven't been able to find much of this artists music."
"Right. They're pretty good though, aren't they?" He scratches the back of his neck when saying this. You nod back up at him, happy that he's sharing this with you.
He walks to the glass checkout counter, with you following not too far behind, record in cupped in your hands. He gently handed the cashier the set of guitar strings he's buying, then turning back to look at you, holding his hand out. You look down at his hand, mildly confused.
"The record." He paused, looking back up at your face, thinking about how pretty you looked "I'd like to pay for it, if thats alright with you"
You're eyes widen as you hear him say that, definitely not expecting him to make that sort of offer towards you, someone he had just met. He waits patiently for your response, a moment of silence passing between you two. His mates continue to watch the scene play out with you and him.
As the silence continues, it nearly becomes awkward, though you cut through it when saying "I hardly know you, I don't even know what your name is."
He pauses, taking a moment to let what you said sink in "it's George, and you seem sweet." He looks to the side, adverting his gaze out of shyness, his face reddening slightly "besides, you're real cute. I wouldn't mind buyin it for ya"
Your eyes widen as you look up at him, still in a surprised state as you nod your head again, saying "I'm y/n, and uh, that's so sweet of you. Thank you" allowing him to buy. You look happily back up at him, his eyes meeting yours; cheeks flushing a shade darker at his kindness. He passes the money to the store clerk, then hands you back the record, slipping it into your hand suprisingly gently. He guides you outside of the store, exiting himself then holding the door open for you to join him.
You step outside, noticing the rest of the lads staying behind to talk to the stores manager once again. You thanked him again for buying your record, to which he stops you mid-sentance, telling you that it was no problem and he was happy to for someone as cute as you are.
As you tell him that you'll be walking back home soon since you've bought what you had planned to, he looks deep into your eyes. "Could I have you stay just a minute longer?" He inquired, taking hold of the cuff of your sleeve, pulling you a little very gently.
Your eyes meet George's, with his cheeks flushed a shade of red, and an awkward but longing gaze looking down on you. "Sure, but only if it's short" you respond
He hesitates for a moment, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to without embarrassing himself. "I was wondering if you'd like to be mine."
A shocked look spreads across your face, not quite expecting this. You continue to listen intently, with George finishing what he wants to say "I know. I know we only just met, but I've got a good feeling about you, you know? You're real cute, kind, have great music taste." He points a long finger down to the record currently being held under your arm.
"You seem like you would make a lovely partner, y/n" George continues, looking off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness.
Your expression shifted into one of sheer flattery and happiness, a smile spreading across your face as you heard his words. "I would love to!" You nearly yell, the excitement getting to you, almost forgetting you had only just met George. Though awkward, he came off as surprisingly charming and was so, so handsome in your eyes.
He smiled back at you, his fang-like canines poking out against the bottom of his pretty lips. "Ah, that's great love."
His gaze shifts back to the inside of the shop, where his mates seem to be paying for the instrument, almost a second away from walking out the door and approaching you.
"In that case, how about you meet up with me? Same place, this weekend? We could go out to eat after" George makes another offer, and its one you know you won't refuse. He seems to have slightly shaken off the initial nervousness, with a more comfortable tone to his voice.
You smile once more "yeah, that sounds great!" As you speak, Paul pushes his way through the door, guitar in hand, causing the bell on the shops door to Ring out. Paul starts chatting with George and as the lads get to talking, you figure it would be best to start walking back. Turning around, you lift your hand, keeping it low as you wave back at George.
Though hes being pulled in the opposite direction by both of the other lads, he turns his head around one last time. Looking at you walk away, he half-shouts "I can't wait to see you again, y/n!"
You feel your cheeks flush as you continue waving back in response, flattered by him. His words linger in the air and You cant help but smile at them, filled with excitement as you make the walk back to your apartment. You almost thought you were crazy, but you couldn't wait to see this beautiful, kind acquaintance again too.
My fanfic concepts list + ones that I've written
- perhaps this is a little too niche? But (for context) John Lennon and Bowie worked on music together + John was the main thing that got David into drugs ,, so maybe a thin white duke x John Lennon x reader
- Period comfort headcanons 4 the fab four
- David Bowie x Alien!reader
- young!(Teen) Ringo Starr x (ALSO TEEN OBVIOUSLY)Reader
- maybe teen Ringo Starr x reader where they meet while he's hospitalized??
- this is a big maybe but Yoko x John x reader poly
- Ringo Starr x artist!reader or all the Beatles x artist! Reader
- smth with George Harrison!!! I rlly wanna write 4 him but haven't gotten a good grasp on like,, his personality yet if that makes sense
- some sort of Pattie Boyd x reader where she gets with the reader instead of Eric Clapton
Note: plsss send me some suggestions/tell me if u like these!! I'm in the middle of a Ringo Starr x reader rn which will be up very soon.
𝘐'𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 (snippet)
1965!george harrison x member!reader
genre: gets kinda spicy bro
warning: drinking, sexual tension, yk wassupp
a/n: ik I said it was gonna be fluff and angst but I got a little carried away so its gonna turn into smut in the full fic, sorry not sorry. the first time i'm doing this, I'm still working on it but I thought I would feed y'all lol. I hope you all enjoy, feedback is always welcomed, let me know what y'all think :).
summary:
You’re a member of The Beatles, and you finally unwind in your hotel room after a long day of press conferences. But you get interrupted by someone who wants your company.
Era: 1965
“That was a good conference, eh, boys?” says John, while messing around with Paul, ticking him. “I don’t think I can talk anymore,” says Ringo, “I ran out of words to say and things to think”. I kept on looking out the window, head resting against it, “I need to get drunk when we get back,” I say with my eyes closed, fingers playing with the hem of my suit jacket. “Cheers to that love, I’ll be expecting you in my office,” says John in a funny voice. Suddenly, I felt someone tap my shoulder, opening my eyes, I looked up to see George staring at me, “What would you want? I can call Eppy to get us something while he’s out”. I stare at him, I look down at my hands noticing the red acrylic painting my fingers, then I say, “Vodka, ya’ll can get whatever, I just want that”. George nods his head while still holding eye contact with me. The car then comes to a halt, the door opens, the driver holds his hand out for me, and I get helped out of the car. “Thank you, Sir,” I say as he helps me onto the steps leading up to the hotel door. “No problem, Ms. L/N, I wouldn’t want to see you struggle up the steps, especially with those shoes,” He says while looking down at my heels, they arent easy to walk in but I had to wear them due to the height difference of me and the guys without them, then he looks at me and I notice how young he is. “He looks a bit older than me,” I say in my head, “Probably a year or two.” He isn’t bad to look at, honestly: Good smile, blue eyes, he’s around 5’10, a bit of a height difference. “Thank you, you’re very kind,” I say to him while smiling. He blushes a bit, he opens his mouth to say something— “You should get back to the car,” says George, “Wouldn't want to leave it running out in the open,”. Dropping the driver's hand, we both turn to look at him. He’s walking up to us with his normal stoic expression but his eyes seem a bit rougher, his guitar case is in one hand, fag in the other, while the other three are just snickering, hiding their faces with their hands and smoke for their fags. The driver is stunned; he looks at me, then looks down, obviously flustered. “Yes, I’m sorry, sir,” he looks up at me and says, “Have a nice day, ma’am. It was an honor to meet you”. I give him a soft smile, “Likewise”, I say as the hotel door opens and I walk in.
The boys and I went in the elevator to avoid the ruckus. When it opened, we immediately piled out and started walking to our hotel rooms. The boys go into John’s room, Paul asks me if I want to join, “No, I need some time alone right now”, I say as I kick off my heels. “Alright, love, we’ll get you at 5 sharp to start our fun,” He says, then winks. I giggle, and then I enter my room. “I need to shower,” I whisper while walking to the bathroom.
After changing into black sleeping shorts with a black long-sleeved shirt, I checked the clock; it was only 3:30, and I still had plenty of time to chill. I throw myself on the bed and close my eyes, beginning to succumb to slumber. *Knock *Knock *Knock, I open my eyes and huff my breath. I get up and open the door to see George standing there. He had changed out of the black suit, and he had a pair of black pants on, with a black turtleneck. He had a bag in left hand with a pack of fags in the other, “Could I hang with you? Ringo went to sleep, and John and Paul are in Paul’s room,”. Then he looked at my clothes and realized, “Did I wake you up?” He says with a tilted head. “No, I was just lying down,” I tell him. I don’t know why I lied, I honestly wasn’t expecting to see him until later. I make space for him to step into my room. He smells good, I keep my eyes on his back as we walk to my bed, his back shifts a little when his hand reaches into his pocket, showing off his slim but toned figure. Girl, stop. He turns to look at me and then throws himself on my bed, “How come your bed is comfier than all of ours? That’s not fair,” He says while looking up at me through the sheets. “I’m not the one who picked the bed for the rooms,” I say to him. I throw myself on the bed as well, turning to my right to be face-to-face with him, “Did you call Eppy?”. George scoffs, playfully offended, “Of course I did, I’m not John,”. He gets the bag and motions with his fingers to me, Come ‘ere. I scoot closer to him, then he pulls out a bottle of Buchanan Black and White. My eyes light up, immediately snatching the bottle from his grasp, “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite?”. His eyes widen a bit and he turns his head to the side, as a pink hue decorates his cheeks,” Shut up, you, we all know it’s Ringo.”. I look at him, still holding the bottle, “I could kiss you right now,” I say jokingly.
He looks down, then turns to me, “Don’t say things that you know you wouldn’t do”, his voice got a little deeper, speaking in his delicious accent.
The atmosphere in the room changed, and something sparked between us. I set the bottle aside, still holding eye contact with him as I get closer, and I stop once I get face-to-face with him. Slowly, I lift a hand, gently caressing his jaw, “You don’t know me, Harrison.” He looks surprised, I don't think either of us expected for this to happen, he leans a little closer, oh no, I close my eyes, It’s okay, let it happen, he smells like cologne, cigarettes, and mint, I could get drunk from his scent alone. He grabs my face, turning it to the side to bare my neck. I can feel his hot breath on my nape, his lips lightly pressing on it, going higher until he reaches behind my ear, and then he presses a kiss, making me gasp. “I want to see you try”.
a/n: LOL THATS ALL YALL GONNA GET RN. I'm really sleepy and I'm gonna try to write tmrw, gonna be really busy. Again, feedback is welcomed! I want it, I need it, I crave it, lmk if y'all liked and if you would like to see it all, might do some more :)))
I miss my wife. (grown man who has been dead longer than I’ve been alive)
PLASTIC ONO BAND-JOHN LENNON MOODBOARD
Im obsessed with plastic Ono band