hiiii. im here to ask you some unnecessary and completely random questions//make you list something
: ̗̀➛ opinion on turtles?
: ̗̀➛ do you like roosters?
: ̗̀➛ does it snow where you live?
: ̗̀➛ do you have a painting or poster in your room? if so, what is it and why do you have ir?
: ̗̀➛ tell me 3 random facts about you that you've never said online
(FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS. MY FRIEND (MARE OR @/STVRLIGHHTT) DOES THIS SOO)
happy holidays my beloved mutual <3
Hiii tysm for the ask moot<3
They seem chill save the turtles and all that yk
I don't really have any problem with roosters but my cousin used to have roosters and chickens and apparently they can go really bad and he tried to peck her eyes out a couple times
No it's just slush or occasionally 2 centimetres 😭
I have 1 collage of like pictures of my friends and me and sports and stuff and medals and a poster that I got when I was 6 and haven't bothered to take down.....
BUT I REALLY SHOULD I MEAN LOOK AT IT
1 I have a older brother
2 I'm terrible at french in school
3 I have a 9yr old dog
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Fashion designer Steve, who accepts a contract to have Rockstar Eddie Munson wear his designs in the latest addition of vogue, but the thing is, he hates Eddie. Hates his cocky smile, his music, the way he called Steve 'doll' the first time they met at some celebrity's birthday party made his skin crawl. But Steve isn't stupid. Eddie's hot, popular and Steve's latest line would look amazing on him. This is the only reason he accepts the deal. If people saw Eddie wearing his designs, they would buy them. Plain and simple.
Steve spends all morning before the shoot dreading having to deal with loud, obnoxious Eddie Munson. He chain smokes on the roof of his studio and tries to remind himself of all the pros of this shoot, of how influential Eddie is. The cons are way longer than the pros.
It's barely past 8am when the studio doors open and in walks the cause of his current headache, but there's something different about this man nervously walking into his studio to the one he's so used to seeing and avoiding at parties. There's no dramatic entrance, no tight leather pants and way too much eye-liner. There's just this... guy. He's in fucking sweatpants and what looks like a pyjama shirt that's been worn way too much, and his hair is tied up in a loose bun that shows off all the earrings he isn't wearing.
"Hi, I'm Eddie." He sticks out his hand politely for a hand shake and Steve is so shocked. He may have squeezed his hand a bit too tightly. "I'm super excited for the shoot! I love your designs." He's smiling at Steve but it's soft, genuine, gentle. It lacks the severity, the cockiness of the smiles he's seen before.
"Uh, thanks." Steve says dumbly and just walks away to the rack of clothes he has picked out for Eddie. "It's just me and you today. Is that okay with you? I work better when it's just me and the model." Steve takes all of his own photos, makes all his designs, does all the make-up and set design. In this industry, he's learned that if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself.
When Steve turns back around, Eddie is standing in the middle of the studio, awkwardly twisting the fabric of his shirt while rocking back onto the balls of his feet. "Yep, that's cool. It's totally cool. Cool as." His cheeks are bright red and he keeps looking around the empty studio, looking anywhere but at Steve.
"Are you nervous?" Steve asks. Nervous and Eddie Munson don't seem like two things that go together in Steve's mind. He's seen Eddie walk out onto a stage in front of thousands of people and thrust against a microphone while singing about sex. But doing a shoot alone with Steve makes him nervous?
"Yeah, you could say I'm a little nervous." He chuckles awkwardly and twirls a loose strand of hair that has fallen from the bun. "I've kind of always wanted to do a shoot with you and I'm terrified I'm going to fuck it up."
That's.. not what Steve was expecting.
"Oh." He says simply, not quite sure what to say to something like that.
"Did I just fuck it up?" Eddie drops the piece of hair and the absolute horror on his face causes Steve to smile.
He shakes his head and hands Eddie an armful of clothes. "Go get changed, pretty boy. You haven't fucked up, if anything you've just secured a permanent spot on my roster." He looks Eddie up and down once. "I like this version of you."
Eddie laughs. "You like my pyjamas?"
"No, you. You seem more real, less, no offence, douchey."
Eddie shrugs and nods in agreement, a few more strands of brown curls fall free. Steve will have to fix that. He wants Eddie's hair up for the shoot. He wants to be able to see every facial expression when Steve tells him how good he is. At posing, that is.
"Being a regular dude isn't what sells albums, unfortunately. So, I've gotta play the part. I've gotta sell sex and make myself seem otherworldly, untouchable, so that people will want me, want my music." He says this with a shrug, acts like it's just a casual thing to say. Steve can see that it's more than that though, can see how much Eddie dislikes having to play pretend to get people to like him.
He nods over to the small dressing room. "You don't have to be anyone else today. I just want Eddie. Only wear what you're comfortable in. I'll order us some breakfast, yeah?" He tries to make Eddie feel comfortable, tries to release some of the tension that had settled in the air by being friendly, a lot friendlier than he normally is with celebrity models. He usually tries to keep a distance from them.
"Pizza?" Eddie asks hopefully.
Steve scrunches up his nose and raises an eyebrow in question. "For breakfast? Really?" That didn't surprise him at all. Eddie's a rockstar. He's probably never had a balanced meal in his life.
Steve ignores the little voice in his head that whispers I could cook for him, make sure he's eating well and looking after himself.
"Yes, really. Extra anchovies, please."
"I've changed my mind. You've fucked it up. Go home."
Steve hears Eddie cackle as he slams the dressing room door shut and it's a surprisingly nice sound. Not as grating and obnoxious as the fake laugh he'd been subjected to at a party last year, it's a warm, almost melodic sound and it makes Steve's lips twitch into a smile.
Maybe this shoot won't be as torturous as he'd thought it would be.
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