Tabloid Stories

Tabloid Stories

Pairing: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell. Implication of Ryan Seacrest/Lance Bass

Rating: NC-17 (is there anything else?) :)

Author’s Note: I was getting tired being a perv on the net looking for rare fan fiction, so I decided to be a bigger perv and write this stuff at work. Comments and suggestions are welcome besides an unfinished horrible story that’s on ff.net this is the first real story I’ve posted. Thanks and enjoy. All the usual disclaimer stuff applies also. I don’t know them yada yada yada. And also I would like to point out that I know how to edit.HINT HINT. I also had to put thoughts in // brackets since my browser doesn't like italics. Had to also recently change the summary in the main page, because I for one as a reader hate it when the pairing is a mysery and you have no desire to read about person A and person B.

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, language, and Ryan fights back.

Simon’s comments go too far and a fight ensues between the two of them. *EG*

Ryan was changing out of his work clothes into his regular everyday wear in the sad excuse of

a dressing room that Fox furnished him. The room reminded him of the cubicles that he’s seen at the

radio station. At least they appreciated him there; Paula had her own bathroom and plenty of space

for her shoe collection. He shook his head //Dick Clark probably had a bigger dressing room than this

when he hosted American Bandstand. Why do so many people compare the two of us when Fox treats me

like an illegitimate child?//

He shoulder his backpack and with his Ipod blasting (Beyonce was the new obsession) he walked through

the back hallway to the parking lot. Searching through the bag he found his car keys, not noticing

that half of the bag’s contents fell to the ground. All he wanted to do was enjoy his new hot tub and

drink away Simon’s insults this afternoon’s taping. As he turned the ignition on, Simon’s horrible

comment from that day kept repeating in his head. He never heard the brit talk so demanding and

belittling as he did so earlier. ‘Terri might warm my bed Ryan, but who do you have? I think Richard

Simmons wants his blow up doll back’ He already talked to the producers and they agreed not to show

it on national television. He didn’t want everybody in his personal life and even when he did only a

handful knew. He cursed to himself as he pulled out of the lot. //When was the last time I got laid?

It had to be at least a year since Lance broke up with whats-his-name and was really upset. Wouldn’t

the tabloids just love that story?// He snickered and pulled into his driveway of his ten bedroom

mansion. Maybe a few drinks in him and he can remember that night a whole lot better.


Simon and Randy were finally finished signing autographs and were excited to be leaving the set for

the day.

“No, I’m telling you dawg. Terri would get over it; she knows you’re an ass.”

“I sure as hell hope so; the ring from Cartier is supposed to arrive by the weekend.”

Terri was present at the taping and Simon’s big mouth got him in trouble. ‘How could you say that to

poor Ryan? He’s a sweet kid and not a gossip whore like the rest of Hollywood.’ Simon was finally

ready to pop the question this weekend with a specially made ring and all because of that snot Ryan

his plans were ruined.

“Hey what the hell?” Randy stopped at the pile of stuff that fell out of Ryan’s bag and poked through

the papers.

“I think its Ryan’s. Isn’t his house on your way home?” Randy asked in a teasing manner. Simon

grunted, “I sure I’m the last person that bloke wants to see right tonight.”

Randy shrugged, “What’s the worst that could happen? At least do something non-bitchy for once.”

Simon’s eyebrow went up and without speaking any further he picked up the papers and headed toward

his sports car.