There was a lot more to it, though the original was multi-fandom. It's on my deviantART in its totality if you want to see. These are just the Rocky Horror ones I wrote :3 A tad Columbia-centric, but that's never a bad thing. I generally just used the runtime of the song to write the story, though in the case of the Hello Kitty one, it was a bit different

Song: You're so Vain by Carly Simon
Characters: Frank, Columbia

At the first glance, he had been perfect. Sexy, suave, the best lover she had ever come across in her life...and the only one who happened to be a transvestite at that.
His true colours had come on later.
The manipulative shithead who used and abused her had stolen and broken her heart, and he knew it, too. Every part of her fucking hated him. But even more loved him for everything he was, and this confused and disgusted her. He had this ludicrous effect on everyone who he wished to bed at some point; they were putty in his hands within minutes. Unsurprisingly, she had been no different; blind, she had let him chew her up and spit her out twice and more, and she hated him and herself for it now. She had loved him, she really had. She should have known better.

Song: Heart-Shaped Glasses by Marilyn Manson
Characters: Eddie, Columbia

Pink-haired, high-voiced and a perfect mix of cute and sexy, he loved her to death. She was a lot of firsts for him. The first girl he had ever made love to in a cinema (not terribly subtly - they'd been kicked out - but it was the first time nonetheless.) One third of his first threesome - Frank had of course been the extra body, and the event had occurred per his request. The first person he had ever said 'I love you' to meaningfully. There were the high-school flings; the summer romances, and the one-offs with the sleazy hussies he seemed to attract somehow, and he'd spoken the words then to keep them happy, or in the heat of the moment.
She'd been wearing the most ridiculous outfit on their first meeting - he guessed it had been what she called pyjamas; a nightshirt, Mickey Mouse ears, high heeled Mary-Janes, fishnets, and these little red heart-shaped aviators. She'd worn them again at his request on their first date after they'd declared themselves as officially in a relationship (the same one as the movie theater incident) and the flirtatious little comment he'd passed in response to her playful advances in the ticket line he liked to believe was what had gotten him laid that night.
"Do you love me?"
"Don't break my heart and I won't break your heart-shaped glasses, sweetheart."

Song: Hello Kitty by Avril Lavigne
Characters: Eddie, Columbia

"Touch me and I'll kill you; come near me and you'll probably die anyway from whatever the fuck I have," Columbia moaned facetiously. The position that she was lying in probably wasn't comfortable in the slightest but she seemed to be happy enough in it. Her head was face down on her pillow; her butt was currently the highest part of her body and her legs were apart at the knees. Basically, she looked like she'd been thrown against a wall; it was funny to look at, yet probably shouldn't have been anatomically possible.

"Just me, doll-face," Eddie ignored her, waltzing into the room shared by the red headed groupie currently in bed with what she claimed was the bubonic plague, and the castle's live-in domestic, Magenta. The hulking rockabilly was wearing an open leather vest, a pair of grubby boxers, one sock and not an awful lot more than that; Columbia herself in pajama pants and a black and white bra. Mind you, for her this was pretty far off of an unusual outfit. Being the only human female in the castle, one would be inclined to think that Columbia would have the best dress sense of anyone. However, one would be very wrong indeed; the woman deemed her underwear, a pair of pyjama shorts, a tailcoat and her tap shoes appropriate attire for strolling out to fetch the morning papers.
He had assumed that what she had said was aimed at Frank, who was both a total hypochondriac and deathly afraid of earth diseases; however, she proved him wrong. "Eddie, I said bugger off."
"What's that, Princess? Can't hear ya," he teased, approaching her and kneeling beside her.
"Piss off," Columbia whined, shoving his face away from her before sneezing and falling over. Indignantly, she burrowed under her duvet so that basically all you could see of her was one hand and a tuft of brightly-coloured hair. "Eddie, I will sneeze on your face."
"Oh, is that a threat?" Eddie snorted in an attempt not to laugh - in the interest of the petite groupie in front of him not biting his head off - before clambering onto the bed and poking roughly where he thought her face was.
"Ow."
"'You okay, doll?"
"Nope," Columbia tried somewhat pathetically to kick him up the ass from under the covers. "You're sitting on my other foot."

In response, he shuffled sideways before pulling back the duvet and blowing a raspberry on her face.

"Eddie, please get off of me."
"No can do, babe."

She he went to retaliate, but let out a tiny, muffled sneeze before she could.
"You sound like a baby cat."
"Maybe I am - you don't know that. " Eddie lolled on his side, making puppy eyes at her.
"Play with me, kitten..."
"I hate you," Columbia grumbled, before leaping on top of him, unusually full of life given her present situation and placing a kiss on his mouth. She sneezed again, even more kitten-like than the last time, but he pulled her back via a handful of her hair. The playful smooches soon became a vicious game of 'who can get their tongue furthest down the throat of their adversary' (this was a typical makeout session at the Frankenstein Place; regarless of participants), and the pair eventually collapsed into a giggling mess on Columbia's bed, with mussed hair and clothing tugged open by the hands of the other party.

Eddie woke up with the man-flu from hell the following morning. But god DAMN, was it worth it.

Song: Backlash by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

Characters: Eddie

He had been a good kid right up until he'd dropped out of high school age 16. Well, he'd tried to be. He hadn't drank, he hadn't sworn, he hadn't smoked, he hadn't touched any of the shit he used nowadays even once. But school, or moreover the people there, had made his life a living hell for it. And he'd taken it out on his poor fucking mother. When he left, that had been where it started to go downhill. Until the night of the incident.

He had been totally piss-drunk and in a hell of a mood. His uncle, who had been given almost the exact same amount of shit as his mother, had tried to confront him. It hadn't been his fault that he'd finished up pushing him. It hadn't been his fault that the stairs had been there. It hadn't been his fault that he had landed the way he had.

In spite of the fact that he knew he should be facing the repercussions of having done what had ultimately rendered his uncle bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, he had left before his mom could catch him.

He'd been in no fit state to go anywhere, lest of all on a motorbike. He wasn't one hundred yards out of Denton before he wrapped himself around a tree.

He had lain where he'd crashed almost all night before someone found him. The injuries were horrific. Massive concussion; broken wrists; dislocated kneecap; smashed ribs; amnesia; a collapsed lung; a cracked pelvis. But had his mother, the only family member he had, cared? Had she fuck.

He spent months in the hospital, and not once did she even send a card. She'd just hoped that if she ignored her fuck-up of a son and devoted herself to pandering to her paraplegic brother-in-law's needs, he would go away.

The day he left home for good - the day he was released from hospital, - she hadn't truly died. Not physically. But she sure as hell was dead to him.