ezrawritesthings

[ezrawritesthings]

Working on 3 really big fics at the moment!

[ezrawritesthings]

Baby Mama Drama || Mick Jagger

Don't you think you've put up with enough bullshit from Mick? Maybe it's time you let him know how utterly pissed off you are. Maybe it's also time you took out some of your frustrations on the woman that knowingly caused your most intense heartbreak. Not like you and Anita ever got along anyway.

A/N: femme reader, she/her pronouns. Slut shaming, angst, cheating, cheating accusations, baby paternity questioning, blood, broken nose, hair pulling, violence. (And a huge shoutout to @omg-hellgirl's fanTASTic blog for helping me gather information for this fic!) Minors DNI.

You're angry. But you've always been angry. No one can piss you off quite like Mick Jagger. It's always been that way, but for so long, it's been what pulled you to him. He could piss you off and then calm you down so flawlessly. You loved him, and he liked to say he loved you. Maybe he really did love you. Perhaps his actions were more about who he thought he was than who was standing in front of you.

All along you've known you were different than his other girlfriends, wives, liaisons, lovers, whatever one wishes to call them. You were a guitarist, a vocalist, and you were on track to be only slightly less successful than The Rolling Stones. Frankly, you were fine with that. If you should fade into obscurity and only be known for your ties with Mick, you'd be content so long as he treated you right.

He's been treating you right.

For a month or so. Ever since you found out about the affair.

But you're still beyond angry regarding his last affair. Often enough, you and Keith liked to talk guitar, you liked to shoot whiskey and trade riffs back and forth, and you dragged Keith somewhere comfortable during his nods frequently. Mick used this to justify what he did, insisting you slept with one of his band mates.

You never did. You're adamant about that, because you know you never fucking did it. For all of your own faults, you're faithful to the ends of the world once you fall in love. So naturally when you stood your ground and stood up to Mick regarding that topic, he crumbled like concrete and knew he'd gone and fucked up.

For Anita, though? It was just fun. She had her fun and now she was done with Mick, leaving the two of you to pick up the shattered pieces all over again. And you hated her for it. Never have you loathed another woman as much as you hate that blonde.

She even invades your dreams. It's a peaceful sleep until you and Keith walk into a room and there she is, on her back or knees with Mick. You never close the door. You two stand there and watch until you're jolted out of your sleep. The dreams get progressively more vivid. Last night, you were able to hear Keith crying, something you hadn't heard before. Unable to turn your head to look at him, you kept your eyes on the vile display of infidelity.

Today hurts because you know you have to be around Anita for an extended period of time. How long? Who knows. Until the album is done, until Keith grows tired of her, until you finally put your big girl pants on and get on a plane back to your home state by yourself.

You've chosen to keep yourself sane with nicotine and marijuana, which works most of the time. A week into this fiasco of an album, and a thought has been brewing in your mind you can't ignore any longer.

There's a little toddler running around. Blonde hair and brown eyes. Marlon Richards is a funny little guy, you like to give him spoons to bang on the walls with, or show him how to fly a kite outside. Everyone spends time with Marlon, but the more time you spend with him, the more horrified you become.

You're aware Mick has children out there. It would be stupid to assume not, hell, he's told you about them. You've met his oldest, Karis.

Your mind hurts. Your heart aches. And you're getting angry again. Why are you thinking this? Why do you think Marlon should be a Jagger instead of a Richards? Fuck, it's tearing you apart.

That night, you woke up in a pile of other people. Keith to your left, someone you don't know to your right, but the needle is still in your arm so you can assume what you did. Not your first time trying heroin, but, you really don't want to make a habit of it. As you sit up, you take a moment to check Keith's neck for a pulse. Much to your surprise, he turns to look up at you.

"Beatin' like a drum, doll."

"I had to be sure. Can't have my buddy keelin' over." You give his neck a little tap before using your hands to push your body off of the floor. Keith moves to sit up, pulling his shirt and pants back into place and taking a moment to make sure you and everyone around him were not in a state of undress. He'd hate himself if he nodded out during an orgy.

Luckily, everyone's properly dressed and you're able to stand on your shaking legs and pluck the needle from your arm. It gets tossed into the nearest bin as you stretch your arms above your head and start walking, wondering where the hell Mick got off to.

Keith trails behind you, running his fingers through his hair. Much like you, he wants to find Anita. Dare you both say after such a good nod, you fancy a shag.

Turning a corner, you stop walking so suddenly and so sharply that Keith walks right into you and stumbles backwards. Yet your feet have never been more firmly planted, your eye twitching at the sight.

Little Marlon is sitting on Mick's lap on a couch, next to him is Anita... and he's whispering in her ear. Though she seems disinterested, you can tell just how much she loves the attention, the slight blush to her cheeks as Mick bounces the teething toddler on his leg.

There's a lot going through your mind, but the main thing is that you're about to explode. And usually, you have your explosions when it's just the two of you. It's all over and the fuse is lit when Anita looks at you with such a knowing look. She knows what you think. She wants you to think that.

And you do.

"Get your son, Keef."

"Pardon?"

But there's no time to answer him when Mick hears your voice and turns to look at you. You're stomping over to the trio on the couch, your face getting progressively more reddened. Immediately both Keith and Mick know hell is about to be unleashed on earth through you, so Mick hands off Marlon to his proper father who scoops him up and out of the way.

Your eyes are on Anita, the blonde unmoving. Her eyes stay fixated on you and you just want to grab her neck and wring the life out of her.

"What were you two havin' a chat about?!"

"... he was telling me how good I look in this dress, actually." With those words, Mick curses under his breath and gets out of the line of fire. Catfights can be hot. This one is going to be scorching.

"Are you sure? Are you sure he wasn't askin' if Marlon's a Jagger?"

"Whoa!" "Wait, whoa!" "What?!" You hear Mick and Keith reacting to your question with nothing short of confusion, as if the concept never crossed their minds.

"Darling, please, we should-" Mick reaches forward to try and take your hand, wanting to soothe you and make things be okay again. It was not going to work.

"GO JERK YER PRICK, YA SEEDY TWAT!"

Mick lets go of your arms and puts both of his hands up, blue eyes going wide.

"A woman knows who the father is. A woman always knows..." Anita finally stands up, looking into your eyes and crossing her arms. In her defense? She does look great in that dress. But you'd never admit it. "You'd know that if you weren't barren, I'm sure."

You feel your eye twitch, the duo of men watching you have their focus shifting from the incoming brawl to the young toddler in Keith's hands. Staring at him, trying to silently figure out which of the men he looks like. He looks like Keith... sort of...

You're not barren! You just may be the only woman Mick Jagger didn't knock up in the first few minutes of speaking to him, and you're quite proud of that. But the way she says it...

"You're such a fuckin' skank! And a horrible actor to boot! You're not pretty enough to be such a... a bitch!"

With that sentence, you lunged for Anita, grabbing her hair at the root and balling your fist up, cracking her right in the nose. Crimson starts to pour down her face and that was when Keith placed Marlon on the ground, he and Mick dashing forward to grab you by an arm each.

"Let me go!"

Keith obliges, only to go to his darling Anita and place his shirt to her nose. Though, he knows she deserves what just happened. So, he can't really scold you... or be mad. You're his friend. You two worked through the heartbreak of your beloveds cheating together side by side.

Yet as Mick grabs you around the waist, you thrash against him. "Let me go, Mick!"

"You're batty! You've absolutely lost it! Keef's genes are strong in this little guy!"

"Me arse!" You finally wiggle away from him, standing to face him. He looks like he's expecting you to punch him next. And, frankly, you're considering it. How good it would feel to crack him in the nose too. But you know you can't raise a hand to him. How could you live with yourself?

"I'm going home. You can... have your little parties and make your little album and have that bitch around, but I won't be a part of it!"

"Darling don't be like that!"

"Fuck you, Mick! Fuck. You!"

Those being your final words to the man you love, you left that night. A series of hotels, flights, and pain sent you back home to be alone and dwell on your thoughts. You're not sure if doing that whole charade in front of Marlon was a good idea. You're also not sure that Marlon looked like Mick in the slightest...

But you know one thing.

Punching Anita Pallenberg is going to be what you're remembered for, until long after your death. And that makes you smile like an idiot.

[ezrawritesthings]

THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT! I wanted to explain the children's names. I picked them totally randomly based on the most random names I could find, because Keith gave a few of his own children very unusual names. I thought it would fit a bit well for the names to be borderline terribad, haha. None the less? THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES!

Just A Chapter || Keith Richards

You never actually wanted to divorce him. Hell, you tried to make it work for as long as you could. Talking to Keith used to be easy, you used to be able to understand him. He used to listen. While your family tells you you're too young to be divorced, you know in your heart you're too young to become a widow. Because, surely, his lifestyle will kill him eventually. A/N: she/her pronouns, femme reader. Angst, angst, angst. Pain. Pain. Pain. So much pain. Some smutty bits. Minors DNI.

It was fun at first. Honestly, you and Keith had a lot of good times together. The key difference between you two being that you could keep from having a good time all the time. You were always more mature than him, despite him being a few years older than you. That never seemed to matter in the grand scheme of things.

Keith liked to bring you flowers. He loved to kiss your cheek and push a bouquet of red roses wrapped in cellophane into your hand. He'd call you gorgeous, tell you how beautiful you looked even if you felt like hot shit. No matter how horrendous your new haircuts were, he called you his little trendsetter.

Walking the streets shopping and going about your business had been rough when the paparazzi started hounding you. Especially when Keith was with you. Yet, he taught you how to ignore them, and slowly but surely, you were able to tune out the whole world and only focus on him.

The proposal, in true Keef fashion, had been less than romantic. A night of tearing up a hotel room with the other Stones members and groupies ended with him on top of you in a mattress strewn onto the floor, under a blanket, going at it like wild animals, he'd climaxed holding himself so deep inside of you, you thought a cough might produce his semen in the back of your throat.

"... marry me?"

You had been stuck in your own post-orgasm haze and unsure of what he'd just asked. All you could do was nod at him. You would have married him the first night together if he had asked. All he would have had to do was say it exactly like he just did, and you would have been his wife two years sooner.

Unfortunately, things went progressively downhill after the wedding. There's a lot of fondness in your chest regarding your past and how your relationship started. All the good times, the parties, the candid photos. But when you got pregnant with your first son, Urijah, you decided to stop everything. Drinking, drugs, cigarettes, all of it.

You had a complicated labor with Urijah. Everything that could go wrong indeed went wrong and you thought, you hoped, it would be a wakeup call for Keith. That almost losing you in childbirth would make him go straight. And it did, for three whole months.

Sex became mechanic. It was still good, but you were fighting against the clock to climax before a black tar nod ended your entire night. It started to become embarrassing, making you feel boring or like you lost your sex appeal after bringing his son into the world.

That hurt the most.

Through some miracle, or some poorly timed non-heroin-nodding sex, you ended up pregnant again. When your son Barzillai was born, it was easier, quicker, and you didn't almost die. Yet with a three year old at home and now a newborn, your worries about your marriage only grew.

The worst night of your life was when both of your children caught the flu, and you went downtown to drag Keith out of whatever nod he was in to come home and be a damn father. Mick tried so hard to get you not to knock on that door, not to then open that door. So much so that he stood there feigning shock, trying to pretend he had no idea your husband was balls deep in a blonde you'd never seen before.

There was no words to describe the amount of pain you were in watching your husband get his cock bounced on by someone who wasn't you. It took a solid five seconds for him and his lover to notice you were standing there, and he looked much like a deer in headlights... once he recognized you. How badly you wanted to go postal, but instead, you turned around to kick Mick fucking Jagger right in the balls before you left. Keith chased you, but wasn't smart enough to get into a car and follow you home.

You didn't argue with him when he finally came home. He got on his knees and screamed apologies until he woke both of your children up, only pissing you off further. The distance between you two only grew from that moment, his affairs got more frequent, and he totally stopped trying to have sex with you.

Urijah's eighth birthday was the final straw. He'd shown up shitfaced and fell right into the cake. Snoring as he laid on the table. You swore it would be the last time he humiliated you.

The next day, you started divorce proceedings. The day after that, you moved out and took your sons to live one county over. In hopes that he wouldn't come to find you when he got served. And, somehow, he hadn't. It led you to believe he didn't care.

Today's the big day. Your sunglasses keep your eyes from the flashes of photographers invading your personal space as much as they can. Keith walks next to you, both of you carrying paperwork of various kinds. It's almost over. You don't have to worry about him anymore after just a few more moments of being his wife.

Yet, as you steal glances, you can't help but think he looks... good. That you wouldn't mind trying for a little girl sometime, that he always looked so good in that leather jacket.

Then you remember the blonde. You remember the numbers of groupies and pretty girls he ran through for the past six years or more. And your cunt dries up and you focus on getting into the courthouse.

When he holds the door for you, becoming the dividing line between you and the paparazzi, you almost tell him thank you. But you refuse to speak to him. You haven't said one word to him since you moved out, and you'd like to keep it that way.

But as you trot down the courthouse hallway, Keith grabs your arm and pulls you to face him.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he looks down at you, and you try not to look at him through your sunglasses. But his eyes... they always pulled you in. "Darling, do we have to do this?"

"We already started it," you reply, trying to ignore his grip on your arm. It feels so tender. Like for the first time in oh so very long, he cares for you.

"No, love, you started it."

"I started it?! You... you with your seedy prick and Jack Daniels bottles and needles started it!"

"... okay I suppose I did start it."

You pull away from him and turn to walk away, but he's hot on your trail, jumping in front of you. "Wait! Love, just wait a moment."

"What the hell do you want from me, Keef?! You already took everything! My youth, my love, my sanity!"

"Is... that really how I've gone and made you feel?"

"Yes! Oh sweet merciful God, Keef! I saw you with a whore, then you always came home smelling like whores, when you actually returned home! I've spent years cleaning you up and cleaning up after you so Urijah and Barzillai don't see you like that and all you've done is toss it back in my face! You've taken a massive dump on what we once had! I wanted to be the girl at the end of your story... but I'm just a chapter."

"I don't want you to just be a chapter."

"Too bad! I've mothered your children and that is as far as we'll go together!"

"... yet you're keeping my surname?"

"... I've found it fits me better than my maiden name."

Keith exhales, placing his hands on his hips. The look on his face says he knows you're right. No truer words have ever been spoken and he's to blame for everything. "When I do croak, just know I croaked still in love with you."

And just like that, he's walking back down the hallway. Much like you, he wants this over with as quickly as possible.

When it's all over and you two emerge from the courthouse once more, you're no longer married. Walking down the same steps you once walked down in a pink and white gown when you picked up your marriage certificate, you're no longer the wife of Keith Richards... and for some reason, it hurts more than you expected.

"Keef, wait," you speak to him as he walks ahead of you down the steps. He turns to look at you without saying anything, just giving a nod. "... do you think we did the right thing here?"

"... nope!" The smile he gives you is shit-eating. "Not at all!"

[ezrawritesthings]

Just A Chapter || Keith Richards

You never actually wanted to divorce him. Hell, you tried to make it work for as long as you could. Talking to Keith used to be easy, you used to be able to understand him. He used to listen. While your family tells you you're too young to be divorced, you know in your heart you're too young to become a widow. Because, surely, his lifestyle will kill him eventually. A/N: she/her pronouns, femme reader. Angst, angst, angst. Pain. Pain. Pain. So much pain. Some smutty bits. Minors DNI.

It was fun at first. Honestly, you and Keith had a lot of good times together. The key difference between you two being that you could keep from having a good time all the time. You were always more mature than him, despite him being a few years older than you. That never seemed to matter in the grand scheme of things.

Keith liked to bring you flowers. He loved to kiss your cheek and push a bouquet of red roses wrapped in cellophane into your hand. He'd call you gorgeous, tell you how beautiful you looked even if you felt like hot shit. No matter how horrendous your new haircuts were, he called you his little trendsetter.

Walking the streets shopping and going about your business had been rough when the paparazzi started hounding you. Especially when Keith was with you. Yet, he taught you how to ignore them, and slowly but surely, you were able to tune out the whole world and only focus on him.

The proposal, in true Keef fashion, had been less than romantic. A night of tearing up a hotel room with the other Stones members and groupies ended with him on top of you in a mattress strewn onto the floor, under a blanket, going at it like wild animals, he'd climaxed holding himself so deep inside of you, you thought a cough might produce his semen in the back of your throat.

"... marry me?"

You had been stuck in your own post-orgasm haze and unsure of what he'd just asked. All you could do was nod at him. You would have married him the first night together if he had asked. All he would have had to do was say it exactly like he just did, and you would have been his wife two years sooner.

Unfortunately, things went progressively downhill after the wedding. There's a lot of fondness in your chest regarding your past and how your relationship started. All the good times, the parties, the candid photos. But when you got pregnant with your first son, Urijah, you decided to stop everything. Drinking, drugs, cigarettes, all of it.

You had a complicated labor with Urijah. Everything that could go wrong indeed went wrong and you thought, you hoped, it would be a wakeup call for Keith. That almost losing you in childbirth would make him go straight. And it did, for three whole months.

Sex became mechanic. It was still good, but you were fighting against the clock to climax before a black tar nod ended your entire night. It started to become embarrassing, making you feel boring or like you lost your sex appeal after bringing his son into the world.

That hurt the most.

Through some miracle, or some poorly timed non-heroin-nodding sex, you ended up pregnant again. When your son Barzillai was born, it was easier, quicker, and you didn't almost die. Yet with a three year old at home and now a newborn, your worries about your marriage only grew.

The worst night of your life was when both of your children caught the flu, and you went downtown to drag Keith out of whatever nod he was in to come home and be a damn father. Mick tried so hard to get you not to knock on that door, not to then open that door. So much so that he stood there feigning shock, trying to pretend he had no idea your husband was balls deep in a blonde you'd never seen before.

There was no words to describe the amount of pain you were in watching your husband get his cock bounced on by someone who wasn't you. It took a solid five seconds for him and his lover to notice you were standing there, and he looked much like a deer in headlights... once he recognized you. How badly you wanted to go postal, but instead, you turned around to kick Mick fucking Jagger right in the balls before you left. Keith chased you, but wasn't smart enough to get into a car and follow you home.

You didn't argue with him when he finally came home. He got on his knees and screamed apologies until he woke both of your children up, only pissing you off further. The distance between you two only grew from that moment, his affairs got more frequent, and he totally stopped trying to have sex with you.

Urijah's eighth birthday was the final straw. He'd shown up shitfaced and fell right into the cake. Snoring as he laid on the table. You swore it would be the last time he humiliated you.

The next day, you started divorce proceedings. The day after that, you moved out and took your sons to live one county over. In hopes that he wouldn't come to find you when he got served. And, somehow, he hadn't. It led you to believe he didn't care.

Today's the big day. Your sunglasses keep your eyes from the flashes of photographers invading your personal space as much as they can. Keith walks next to you, both of you carrying paperwork of various kinds. It's almost over. You don't have to worry about him anymore after just a few more moments of being his wife.

Yet, as you steal glances, you can't help but think he looks... good. That you wouldn't mind trying for a little girl sometime, that he always looked so good in that leather jacket.

Then you remember the blonde. You remember the numbers of groupies and pretty girls he ran through for the past six years or more. And your cunt dries up and you focus on getting into the courthouse.

When he holds the door for you, becoming the dividing line between you and the paparazzi, you almost tell him thank you. But you refuse to speak to him. You haven't said one word to him since you moved out, and you'd like to keep it that way.

But as you trot down the courthouse hallway, Keith grabs your arm and pulls you to face him.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he looks down at you, and you try not to look at him through your sunglasses. But his eyes... they always pulled you in. "Darling, do we have to do this?"

"We already started it," you reply, trying to ignore his grip on your arm. It feels so tender. Like for the first time in oh so very long, he cares for you.

"No, love, you started it."

"I started it?! You... you with your seedy prick and Jack Daniels bottles and needles started it!"

"... okay I suppose I did start it."

You pull away from him and turn to walk away, but he's hot on your trail, jumping in front of you. "Wait! Love, just wait a moment."

"What the hell do you want from me, Keef?! You already took everything! My youth, my love, my sanity!"

"Is... that really how I've gone and made you feel?"

"Yes! Oh sweet merciful God, Keef! I saw you with a whore, then you always came home smelling like whores, when you actually returned home! I've spent years cleaning you up and cleaning up after you so Urijah and Barzillai don't see you like that and all you've done is toss it back in my face! You've taken a massive dump on what we once had! I wanted to be the girl at the end of your story... but I'm just a chapter."

"I don't want you to just be a chapter."

"Too bad! I've mothered your children and that is as far as we'll go together!"

"... yet you're keeping my surname?"

"... I've found it fits me better than my maiden name."

Keith exhales, placing his hands on his hips. The look on his face says he knows you're right. No truer words have ever been spoken and he's to blame for everything. "When I do croak, just know I croaked still in love with you."

And just like that, he's walking back down the hallway. Much like you, he wants this over with as quickly as possible.

When it's all over and you two emerge from the courthouse once more, you're no longer married. Walking down the same steps you once walked down in a pink and white gown when you picked up your marriage certificate, you're no longer the wife of Keith Richards... and for some reason, it hurts more than you expected.

"Keef, wait," you speak to him as he walks ahead of you down the steps. He turns to look at you without saying anything, just giving a nod. "... do you think we did the right thing here?"

"... nope!" The smile he gives you is shit-eating. "Not at all!"

[ezrawritesthings]

me with my Rolling Stones and Gorillaz fics

Since y’all liked my niche fic meme so much here’s another one

[ezrawritesthings]

Touring with your father in 2024.

A few little drabbles about what it would be like to tour with each Stone being your father!

A/N: Femme perspective, she/her pronouns, extremely fluffy.

"She'll go for a run in the morning, I'm sure." Being a Jagger comes with a lot of expectations. Mostly being the most high-energy person in the room. Though your father is pushing 81, you're constantly trying to compete with him to be the most energetic person. In the crowd, you're dancing and filling up with pride the whole time, you can't believe your father still moves and performs the way he does! And when it comes time to retire to the tour busses, it's a game of which one of you can doze off first. Most of the time, though, your dad lets you win. Only because he knows how tiring it must be for you to follow the band around, and he truly loves and appreciates it.

"Wild, just like her ol'man." Being the youngest daughter means you didn't get to grow up with the rowdy version of Keith Richards. Yet, that seems not to hinder you in the slightest. You tend to stay backstage until the last second before disappearing into the crowd and then it all becomes a bit of a blur. You're not sure when the show actually started, just like you aren't sure when it ended and when you ended up at an afterparty with fans of your father and pseudo-fathers. It takes so many calls and texts to get you to the right hotel, and when you arrive covered in scents your father recognizes from his past, all he can do is smile.

"Out of tune?! Out of your mind!" You were the first person backstage to notice that somehow, your father's guitar was out of tune! Aside from him, of course. But Ronnie Wood would never admit it, and when that was the first thing you said to him after the show in Atlanta, he brushed you off and acted offended before pulling you into a hug, kissing the top of your head. After all was said and done and the lot of you were off to the next town, your father admitted he was out of tune and gave you a wink. Maybe he'll let you tune his guitar next time. Maybe.

"Hmm. How about that?" You wonder if your father has always been this mellow. Or if he's secretly doing some downers when no one is looking. While you tend to stay backstage and catch up on television shows you're missing out on, you do really enjoy the music that floods your ears at every show. So, it was a shock to Charlie Watts when he eyed you in the crowd in Las Vegas. You tried to keep your eyes on the other members instead of your father, but, he grinned at you every time you caught his eye. He always knew you would be a good crowd member.

[ezrawritesthings]

➜Masterlist⤵

The Rolling Stones⤵

Just A Chapter || Keith Richards Angsty, slightly smutty, slightly funny.

Baby Mama Drama || Mick Jagger Angsty, angry, violent.

One Piece⤵

Gorillaz⤵

Diary of a Wimpy Kid⤵

➜Charlie Wright as Rodrick

➜Devon Bostick as Rodrick

Headcanon Lists⤵ TRS: Touring as their daughters in 2024. Fluff, pure fluff.

[ezrawritesthings]

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