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winchester90210 · 5 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x13: Slumber Party

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Junk food is had, secrets are exposed, and flings are revealed...

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, one minor make out scene.

Word count: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

The flashback is in italics.

Feedback is incredibly appreciated! :)

A/N: This is one of my favorite episodes! Hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry about the scheduling issue, next week should go as planned. Feedback on this chapter would be wonderful! :)

"Are you sure this thing isn't a slumber party?" Kelly criticizes. You open your locker as your friends begin to bicker on both sides of you. Something akin to petty surround sound.

"I told you! It's a night of female bonding-- a chance for us to get together and talk about what's important," Brenda explains.

"But we're doing it in our PJs," Donna interjects.

"Well, that would make sense unless you prefer to sleep in your clothes," You say, "Bren, I think it's a great idea. It could be fun!"

"Can we invite some guys to come over later? I mean, after we've talked and bonded and everything?" Kelly asks.

"Kelly, I thought what we wanted was an evening to ourselves where we don't have to think about guys, talk about guys, or worry about what we look like 'cause some guy is around. Isn't that what we said?" She nods, rolling her eyes. "So what's the problem?"

"Nothing!" She leans against the lockers, "Actually... there is one thing. I kinda made plans with this other friend of mine, Amanda Pacer. You don't know her, she's a senior, but we have been friends forever."

"So bring her," you suggest, taking out your history book and shutting your locker.

"Well... I know this may sound stupid, but I don't want her to think this is a slumber party... It's not a slumber party, right?"

"Brenda! Kelly, Y/N, and Donna are here to bond with you!" Brandon shouts up the stairs, laden in his all-white Peach Pit uniform. He looked so cute, this "no guy" rule was pointless. Especially when the said guys looked like that. "Hey Y/N/N," he kisses you softly, pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," you mumble. He gives you a hard, dizzying, coffee-flavored kiss as he slowly backs into the front door. You hum against him happily, "I'll pay you to stay, I'm serious. Cold hard cash." He grins, slipping his warm hands under the sides of your jacket, holding onto your hips gently.

"As much as I'd like to, I promised Nat I'd pick up this shift."

"Tell him you have other business to attend to. Like getting me out of this slumber party. Nat'll understand," you plead jokingly. One more soft, sweet kiss and he lets go of you. "Brandon..." he smiles at you adoringly and turns towards the other two girls waiting in the foyer, pretending that they weren't just watching everything you two were doing.

"Have fun, ladies," he swings the front door open and leaves as quickly as possible, knowing that if he stayed any longer you'd actually end up convincing him to stay. As one Walsh exits, another enters as Brenda comes down the stairs wearing a long, plaid nightshirt. But before she's even fully down the stairs, Kelly starts to complain.

"Brenda, this is really weird."

"Kelly, we are going to have fun! Where's Amanda?"

"Oh, she's coming later," She fidgets awkwardly, "She uh, wanted to bring her own car in case..."

"Something better came along," Donna interjects.

"I think this might be a little too down-home for her."

"Kelly, we're not going on hayrides," you cut in.

"Okay, we have chocolate ice cream,vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream!" Brenda announces as you pour the doritos into a bowl. It's a scramble of hands and junk food as you all grab what you want.

"Do you have any other cookies?" Kelly asks.

"Yeah! I think they're in the cupboard," Brenda nods.

"Oh, I love cookies smushed in ice cream!" Andrea beams, "it's the best."

"You ever put popcorn in ice cream?" Donna wonders. The group groans in disgust. "Hey, it's really good!" You hop on the counter next to where Donna is and grab a chip

"Well, there's microwave popcorn in a bowl over there, knock yourself out," Brenda giggles, handing you your bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Thanks," you smile, "Hey, Amanda, what do you want? Vanilla or chocolate?" You glance over to Kelly's friend as you help the girls put together their sundaes, and she's sitting alone at the kitchen table with her arms crossed, pouting.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

"Oh, come on, Amanda. You're gonna make us all look like pigs!" Kelly exclaims.

"You said it, I didn't," Amanda ostracizes. The room goes radio silent, but instead of bumming out the room, Brenda starts snorting like a pig at her while the rest of you laugh and pick up your junk food.

"Donna, that is so gross!" Kelly laughs, watching as her best friend shows vanilla ice cream and popcorn into her mouth all in one spoon. Your cheeks already hurt from laughing, but you couldn't stop smiling.

"I know, but I like it! I don't know why, but I do, okay?"

"This is something you can never do with guys," Kelly smirks, piling on the whipped cream to her sundae.

"What?" Andrea asks.

"Pig out!" The five of you giggle as Brenda turns to Amanda, who's once again decided to remove herself from the group.

"Do you eat on dates, Amanda?"

"Never. But I always order something expensive," her voice is sharp, and she's slumped back in the white chair in the far corner of the room.

"Why?"

"To let them know I'm worth it," she shrugs.

"I knew it was over for me and Steve when I started pigging out everytime we went out to eat," she scoffs.

"He never took you out to eat, Kelly," Donna giggles, and then everyone, (excluding Ms. Grump Pants, of course) bursts out in laughter.

"I am in... sugar shock." Brenda sighs, resting her head on your shoulder as you lean back onto the couch, smushed up against the other girls.

"I feel like I just gained ten pounds," Andrea groans.

"So, what do you guys want to do now?" Kelly ponders.

"Ooh, lets rent Pretty Woman!" Donna suggests.

"Donna, you've seen that movie 300 times," Kelly snickers.

"It's dependable. You know, sometimes I think about running away and becoming a hooker on Hollywood boulevard," she puts her fist up to her heart, fawning, "just so I can meet Richard Gere."

"There's only one problem... you're not Julia Roberts."

"Look, we're not going to rent a movie... or become prostitutes," you tease Donna, "The whole point of this was so we could talk. Andrea, go get your Ouija board."

You settle back down onto the couch after coming very close to crapping your pants because of what you thought was the Ouija board... which just ended up being David Silver sneaking creepy pictures of you guys through the window. You breathe deeply as your heart rate settles down. Amanda checks her watch and scoffs.

"It's after midnight."

"What, do frat boys turn into pumpkins?" Brenda bites sarcastically.

"No, they turn into drunken slobs." You sure made my night," she complains.

"Amanda, you didn't have to come!" Kelly barks.

"What? And miss all the fun? The party games?" She laughs sardonically, "I don't want to leave anymore. Everyone's ruined my night," she takes off her beige coat and throws it on the chair. "It's my turn to ruin their's. Okay everyone. I've got a game if you're up for it. Skeletons in the closet. Everyone sits in a circle, and the person in the middle has to answer all their questions as honestly as possible. The kind of question is up to you, whatever you feel like asking. Of course, the better the question, the better the game."

"Go ahead. Ask me anything," Andrea smiles nervously.

"Why does everybody call you 'Awwwndrea?'" Amanda starts.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you, British? I mean... Awwwwndrea?" Amanda guffaws.

"That is pretty pretentious," Kelly adds.

"Kelly," you warn her.

"It's pronounced both ways. But An-dree-uh is a little boring and common. I like to be different."

"Good answer," you smile.

"So, am I through?"

Amanda studies her carefully, "No. Not yet... have you ever slept with a guy before?" What the hell was wrong with this girl?

"That's... a little personal. But uh... no. No, I have never slept with a guy before. Yet."

"Well, if you could sleep with any guy in school, who would it be?"

Andrea chuckles anxiously, looking down at the ground. "Come on, you guys. I can't answer that..."

"Yeah, you can. You can trust us, Andrea... well," you glance at Amanda, "most of us, at least."

"Uh... I don't know. I guess... I guess uh..."

"Brandon?" Kelly cuts in.

"What?" You glare at Kelly.

"No." Andrea answers, "No. Not Brandon. No... it would have to be Hans Fleischman. He is this incredibly gorgeous lifeguard who pulled me out of the water when I was stung by a jellyfish at Zuma beach last summer." You adjust in your seat uncomfortably while the Kelly snickers in disbelief at Andrea. "Hey, what is this? Brandon is just a friend."

"Wait-- wait a second. Is this the same Brandon that's all over her everyday?" Amanda laughs out, "Sweetie... get a life. You like him. Everybody already knows." You sure didn't. "And he likes her." You don't even dare to look up from your thumbs. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Sure, you encouraged her to answer it but you didn't think it would be Brandon. You would feel weird comforting her, but you still feel weird just sitting there and letting her get harrassed.

"Okay... okay. So it-- it is Brandon." Her eyes well up as she stutters through her words. The room is silent for a moment before you hop to your feet.

"Well, this has been a blast," you huff, "I'm gonna go get a soda. Anyone else have plans to seduce my boyfriend? Kelly? Donna? Hey, how about you, Amanda?"

After Kelly's turn, to which she described her traumatic first sexual experience, and Brenda's where she describes how she betrayed her best friend back in Minneapolis... you were really starting to hate this game.

"Come on, Donna, you've gotta have some secrets," Kelly encourages.

"I don't! I tell you guys everything!"

"If you could go out with any guy in school, who would it be?!" Brenda asks. Let me guess, Brandon?

"Greg Houseman. You know that, she never stops talking about him," Kelly sighs.

"What is the most dishonest thing you've ever done?" You ask, curling your legs up to your chest. She pauses to think for a moment.

"Nothing..."

"Didn't anybody in your family go insane or something? Anything?"

"No... we're all really normal," she shrugs. The thing was, she's right. You've been to her house. Her mother is great, her dad's really nice, her house is perfect... she was completely normal.

"You know what your problem is, Donna?" Amanda prompts, "Your life is totally boring. Anyone who can't dredge up one secret about themselves is either lying or a total zero."

"That is not true," you snap.

"Why, what are you hiding, Y/N/N?"

"Nothing, Amanda."

"Oh, really? That's not what I hear... or what I've seen."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Get in the circle," she smirks, this time deviously. Dangerously. You follow her orders, moving from the floor to the chair.

"What's your favorite movie?" Brenda asks.

"Rebel without a Cause."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Baby pink," you watch Amanda out of the corner of your eye, getting more and more frustrated at the boring questions.

"Oh, come on! You guys are such a drag!" She leans forward, smirking, "What's going on with you and Dylan McKay?" You look at her confused.

"He's dating her," you gesture towards Brenda, "Not me." Amanda shakes her head immediately, as if she knew you were going to say that.

"Do I need to dumb it down for you, sweetheart? What happened at the Bel Age a few months ago, y'know, when you jumped him?"

"What?" Brenda says quietly, her voice breaking. She looks at you as tears start to brim her eyes.

"Bren, wait a second--"

"Did you sleep with my boyfriend?" Your jaw goes agape and you laugh sourly in shock.

"You really think I'd sleep with Dylan?!" A pit of guilt was forming in your stomach as you tensed up.

"I don't know what to think, Y/N! All I know is you two spend an awful lot of time together alone and now I'm hearing that you pounced on him!" she snaps. Oh my god. You couldn't believe this was happening.

"That's not what happened, Bren!"

"Fine!" She scoffs bitterly, "what happened, then?"

"So, I was at the Bel Age a few months ago, Brandon had just gotten the job at the Peach Pit..."

"I don't wanna go home yet," you told him. The Porsche rumbled as Dylan warmed it up. He raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned back.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want to take me." Those would be words you would later come to regret. Asking a hot guy with a leather jacket and a Porsche to have his way with you? Bold move. Dumb move, too. He could've taken you anywhere. Baja, the abandoned elementary school, anywhere. But where did he take you? The Bel Age hotel.

When you walked in he popped the radio on and you sat down as a Gloria Estefan song played quietly throughout the hotel room. Dylan was over at the wet bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch. Looking back, it was the only time you'd ever seen him drink something in moderation.

"You drink?" He asked, looking back at you.

"I could start," you shrug. And that was the first of many bad decisions you'd make in that hotel room. He grabs a second pint glass, but you weren't paying much attention to him as he clanked around, trying to pour you something that wouldn't make you gag.

He hands you the concoction and sits down beside you, his legs against yours. A little closer than normal, but you didn't think anything of it. Fidgeting anxiously, you began to drink whatever it was he gave you. It was new, being alone with him like that. Sure, you could hang out with him in groups but... just you and him? You tilted the glass back, letting the smooth and surprisingly digestible liquor flow down your throat until there was nothing left in your glass. This stuff was supposed kill anxiety, right? He eyes you up. Peculiarly, but not critically.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He would continue to fill your glass, and his own, for that matter, all night. He'd put on his Road House VHS tape somewhere in the middle. And you were watching it. You really were. But as the movie went on longer, you got closer. A fairly innocent movie night (the first of many) turned into a night full of regrets.

His hand was on your leg right before the first kiss happened, thumb drawing dizzying little circles on your thigh as he watched the movie. You're sure if you showed any signs of discomfort he would've stopped-- that fact gave you peace in the moment. But the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. So he didn't. And neither did you. It wasn't until later, when his lips were trailing down your jaw, hands pushing your dress up, and his own white t-shirt was somewhere on the floor next to you. That's when it came to a crashing halt. Removing his lips from your neck, he sighed.

"What is it?" You asked. The air between you two was intense, sensitive. One move and he'd be back on top of you, starting the cycle all over again.

"What about Minnesota?" He slides you off of his lap in one swift motion, but his hand was lingering on your hip.

"What about Brandon?"

"Come on, you've seen how he is around you. I don't want to get in the way of that, mess anything up."

"You're not messing anything up. If Brandon was interested he would've made a move already."

Cut to you, current day, girlfriend of the mentioned boy, "Hah... whoops."

"But either way... this is a bad idea, isn't it?" You sheepishly picked up the shirt from the floor and handed it back to him. "So," you cleared your throat, "Friends?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, fiddling with the shirt in his hand. The energy in the room was different then, awkward. Laughable. But friendly.

"And that was it," you finish, "We're friends. Kissing him now would be no different than kissing Donna or Kelly."

"You wouldn't have kissed him if you didn't like him!"

"I do like him. As a friend," you plead, "Bren, I've been supporting you guys since day one, I would never do something to hurt you." You search her eyes for something. A little bit of waivering, forgiveness, pity. Anything at this point. Stupid Amanda and her stupid skeleton game. Brenda avoids your gaze for a moment.

"And nothing's happened since then?" She chokes out. You see her shoulders rise and fall as she takes in a shaky breath.

"Nothing's happened since then."

She lets out a deep sigh, almost out of relief, but tears are still threatening to spill from her eyes "Okay... I guess I understand." As she says that, it's like every muscle in your body lets go of the stress it had been holding for the past few weeks. You really hate secrets.

"Uh, Bren... I have a confession to make," Kelly pipes up from the side of the room, "After you started going out with Dylan I tried to get a date with him." Oh shit.

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou

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keepcalm-and-beyou · 6 years ago

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Masterlist

FP Jones(Riverdale)

Ball and Chain

So Sick(Ne-yo)

My Oh My(Camila Cabello)

Are you sure?(young fp/young fredxreader)

Visting him at work

He breaks his Sobriety

Jughead Jones(Riverdale)

What!?(jugxreader/archiexread)

Archie Andrews(Riverdale)

Sugar Sugar

Machine Gun Kelly(Colson Baker)

Bored & Lazy(IG)

Bored in the House

Quarantine & Chill

New Years Eve

Party with Kells & Pete

Bad at Love

Breaking up is Hard to do(Bad at Love Part2)

Engaged to Kells

Smoking Weed with Kells

Horny Kells on Tour

Drunk needy Kells

Wearing his Shirt

Breaking up

Breaking up(Part2)

Date Night

Being Friends with Eminem

Missing You & Your unborn Baby

He thinks your Cheating

Kells Doesnt remember last night

He doesn’t Like You being alone with his best friend

People Dislike You two Together

Being Rooks Ex and Pregnant with Kells baby

Being Rooks Ex & Pregnant with Kells baby 2

Halloween Costumes

Tommy Lee(MGK)

Being Nikkis girl & Tommy in love with you

Pete Davidson(SNL)

Her

Karaoke

Jesse Pinkman(Breaking Bad)

Telling him the Gender of your baby

Dylan McKay(90210)

Jealous

Protective

Distracting

Kelly dislikes you

First time laying eyes on you

Derek Hale Story

Part 10

Part 9

Part 8

Part 7

Part 6

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

How You Meet (Part 1)

Dean Winchester

Texting him by mistake

Cas being in love with you

Everytime Dean sees your Bf

When He sees you with your new bf

Jensen Ackles

Affair

Sam Winchester

Pregnancy test

Jared Padalecki

Telling jensen he asked you out

Other

Teen wolf supernatural cross over

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inkmonster21 · 3 years ago

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Best Buds

Fezco x Reader

Euphoria Universe x Reader

1. Your Local Drug Dealer

2. Behind the Store Blaze

3. Friends

4. McKay’s Party

5. My Girl

6. Wifey Material

7. Mr. Mouse

~o0o~

(y/n) lays on the couch passed out. My hands shake as I brush her hair out of her face. "Shit, ma. Why'd you come here?" I lift her, her head falling to my chest. She nuzzles into my shirt. "So soft." I set her down on my bed. She lets a light giggle escape her lips. I kiss her head softly. "Ima come check on you, baby." She waves her hand in the air, mumbling something I couldn't comprehend. "ight, baby."

I pace in the living room. I pull out my phone calling Dylan. "Yo, man." I sigh at his answer. "Aye, Ima need some help, bro." The line is silent for a beat. "Is (Y/n) okay?" I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. "She showed up when my guys were. She's pretty fucked up." "Who gave it to her? What'd she take?" "Fet." "You fucking kidding me, bro?" He hisses into the line. "Aye, I ain't the one who made her do it. I told her to not be here, man. You know me, I don't do that shit." Dylan sighs again, I can hear him shuffling around. "I'll be there in 20."

The second call I made was to Jule, Rue's friend. "Hello?" Her soft voice comes through. "Yo, what's up? It's Fez." "Oh, hi." "Yeah, look. I'm gonna need a little help with Rue." "Is she okay?" "Yeah, but get here asap."

Dylan arrives shortly of 20 minutes. We look at (y/n) as she lays high as fuck on the bed, unmoving. Dylan shakes his head, "Never thought I'd see her like this." "She wasn't supposed to be here, man." I sit on the end of the bed, my head in my hands. "You tell her not to come?" "Yeah." "She did anyway?" "Yeah." Dylan huffs, landing a hand on my shoulder. "Not your fault, man."

Dylan was able to stay with (y/n) as we drove Rue and Jule to her house where they could stay. She was still so fucked when we arrived, she couldn't walk in.

-(y/n)-

My eyes roll open, the dim lighting feeling warm on my orbs. "Hey, you good?" I look over my shoulder to see Dylan sitting on the bed. "Dyl?" He smiles at me, tears brimming his eyes. "Yeah. You good?" I look around confused, still extremely high. "Fez?" "He went to take Rue home."

Dylan places his hand around my arm. "Come on, let's go watch something." I take a step feeling wobbly. "Sure." I hum as I take my steps slowly. "Are you like... good?" Dylan asks as he trails behind, his hands free to catch me if I fall. "m'good." I plop on the couch looking around. "Where's Fezco?" I ask with a hazy smile. Dylan chuckles as he takes the seat next to mine. "He'll be back, (y/n)." Dylan rests his head on my shoulder. "You really like him, don't you?" I nod, an intense euphoric feeling overtaking my veins. "I love him."

The door opens and the two boys enter the room. "there's my guy." I draw out my words as I reach for Fez. "Hey, ma. You doin ight?" Fez kneels in front of me, his hands cupping my cheeks. "m'good." fez nods, the intense worry leaving his eyes. "No more of dat shit, ya heard?" I nod, my mind still feeling like a bowl of pink sparkly jello. "m'sorry, Fez. Just missed you." Fez leans in whispering, "missed you too, baby." The rest of the night the four of us stayed in the living room, watching movies, smoking, and waiting for my ass to finally come down from the dose.

The sun rose in the quiet streets of the small town. Fez sat on the couch, my fingertips drawing small circles over my knees. Dylan sat across from us passed out with his arms flailed above his head. I open my eyes squinting at the light peeling into the room. "Hey, shawty," Fez mumbles as he notices I have awoken. I just pout as I crawl into his lap, straddling him and wrapping my arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, Fez." He shakes his head in disagreement. "ain't your fault, baby." He plays in my hair as I cuddle into his frame. This is what shocked me to no end. Fez was so sweet. He looked like he couldn't hurt a bug, but I could see deep in his eyes the darkness. He's experienced things no other person should. He successfully pushes all the bullshit aside and shines a happy smile daily.

"Does this stuff ever stress you out?" I stare at the now empty suitcase in memory. "Sometimes. Sometimes not." I reposition myself on his lap. "You should let me help." Fez scoffs with a smile. "Baby, you cute. I can see it now, my shawty pistol-whipping bitches to get her cash." I laugh into his shoulder. Pure happiness coating my emotions. I never want to leave his side.

I sit next to Maddy in science about to fall asleep when my phone vibrates.

Fezzy: You goin tonight?

(Y/n): I planned on it. Are you going?

Fezzy: For sure. Great business op

(Y/n): I might just have to stop by

Fezzy: I give good discounts to my good girl

Maddy scoffs as she reads over my shoulder. "Damn, Mother Mary. Freaky much?" I blush as I turn my phone over face down. "I don't share all my secrets." Maddy glares at me, "Bitch, shut up. You tell me everything." I flip my phone over, taking a selfie of Maddy and I. "Just wait until he sees you." Maddy hums with a smile thinking of the new outfits she recently purchased for us.

I pull the strap of the dress, admiring myself in the mirror. Maddy had purchased a short, sparkly dress for me to wear tonight at the carnival. "You realize my parents will be there?" Maddy shrugs as she brushes glitter onto my eyes. "So what? They're assholes." I stifle a light knowing the truth. "You look hot." Maddy beams as she closes the compact.

Once we arrive Maddy is quick to get on the phone with Nate as they attempt to meet up. "Ugh, he's so fucking disoriented." She growls as we walk through the crowd. "I'm going go find Fez." Maddy simply nods as she answers the phone. "Where are you? I don't see you anywhere."

I walk through the crowds of people searching everywhere for Fez or Ash. In the hundreds of people, they could be anywhere. I start trailing the sides, and on my second lap, I spot Fez standing outside a truck talking with some guys. As I approach the guys Fez is speaking with allowing their eyes to travel. All four of them now staring at me as Fez talks. "Man, I ain't gonna lie. She real bad." One of the guys scoffs as he smirks, "Looks like it."

Fez turns around seeing me standing behind him. "Hi." Fez's lips draw in a smile. "There's my girl." He slings an arm over my shoulder pulling me to him. One hand sits on my waist as the other draws thin lines on my ass. Fez runs his fingers on the edge of the dress dangerously. "Looking sexy, baby." I toss my hair over my shoulder lightly, batting my eyelashes at him. "I dressed up for you." The bystanding men mutter compliments under their breath as they move on to leave Fez and me alone. "Want to go ride something?" I ask like a gitty kid, my eyes searching each attraction. "m'sorry, ma. I got to stand around. Wait for the customers." I nod, now bobbing on my heels. I knew he had to do business, but I assumed he could've taken at least a couple of minutes off. "Ash can't handle it?" I shoot him puppy dog eyes as I sway. "You for real doing this?" Fez smirks at me as I pout my bottom lip.

Fez grabs my hand and whistles over to Ash. Ash looks up from his customer. "Ima take her around. Be back, bro." Ash waves to me with a hidden smile. The young hardass was starting to become soft when we are working on homework at night.

Fez leads us to the Ferris wheel, holding onto my hips as we stand in line. "You do look good, baby. I like showing you off." Fez bites the tip of my ear causing me to shiver. "I guess I should update my wardrobe then."

We are seated and pull the bar over our heads. Fez scoots closer, laying an arm over my bare shoulders. "Sure you wanna ride this thing?" He looks above at the carts on the top. I narrow my eyes at him, realization coming alive. "No way." "What?" Fez asks still watching the carts swing. "You're scared." Fez brings his gaze back to meet mine, aggravation held in his orbs. "The fuck you saying?" "You're scared of heights." I poke my finger into his chest. "You crazy, ma. I ain't scared." The wheel turns, and Fez moves quickly to grab ahold of me. I cackle loudly as he cradles me into him as much as he can. "Baby, stop moving." He warns as my content laughter shifts the seat. "Yo, yo, yo!"

We make it to the very top, seeing the entire view of the town. "This is some sketchy shit you got me doin," Fez mumbles as he peeks over the edge. "fuck, I ain't never been this high." I narrow my eyes at him, "Yeah, you have." "In the air, ma. Never do this shit for anyone but you, ma. You crazy." I cuddle into his side as we stare into the eventful town. "Yeah, but you love me," I say it too quickly to realize what has come out of my mouth. Fez buries his nose into my neck. "I do, shawty. You ain't wrong."

Um... WHAT?

I peel myself away from Fez looking at him with wide eyes. "You..." Fez places a hand on my face pulling me into a kiss. "Yeah, ma. I love you." I run my hands over his head, "I love you, Fez." the pure emotions wash over me as we share passionate kisses.

"Um, excuse me?" We pull away at the sudden voice. We were so distracted we didn't even know had made it around the entire wheel. "We have to let other people on." The worker spoke awkwardly. Fez stood first, grabbing my hand and leading us away. "That's one way to get through that thing." I hug his arm as we walk back to his truck. Business is booming. Enough traffic for Ash to have his hands full. "Ah, shit," Fez grumbles as he sees how packed his stand is. "You need some help?" Fez takes a second to think. He looks at the stand, then down to me, then back at the stand. He turns to me with a shrug. "Why not. Come on back."

I enter the back of the truck, behind a curtain Fez reveals a jar of weed, a scale, coke, and molly. "Damn." I gulp feeling overwhelmed. "We got it all packaged up. Just the bud needs to be weighed out when it's sold." I nod look at all the bags. "You wanna try molly?" "What does it do?" I ask holding up the small bag filled with crystal. "in short, makes you happy. Like really happy." I shrug feeling intrigued. "Maybe."

"Aye, ima get back out. call me if you need anything." I nod watching him take steps closer to the door. "Fez?" "sup?" "I love you," I speak the words in a hushed voice. His cheeks rose pink as he shakes his head, "I love you too, ma." As he closes the door Ash scoffs. I glare in his direction, "What?" "Nothin. Didn't say shit." I sit next to him as he hands out a pretzel. "But you wanna." Ash fights a smile that forms on his lips. "Just don't do stupid shit. I like having you around." "I like being around."

Maddy and Cassie walk up to the stand. "Hey, loves!" I gush, seeing my girls, both looking pissed. "Welcome to Pretzelmania. How many pretzels do you want?" Maddy looks with a grimace, "We don't eat carbs." Cassie jumps in, placing their order. "Two, please." Ash nods his head, advising me to get two pouches of molly. Ash places them in the middle of the pretzels. "Let me know how it is." I wink he them as Ash distributes the snack. "You wanna come?" Maddy raises her brow. Ash pushes a pouch into my hand with a small smile. "Get out." He pushes me to the door. "Go have fun!" I exit the door and am tackled by Maddy and Cassie. "God! You're so lucky your boyfriend isn't an ass."

The two drag me away yelling to Fez. "We're stealing her!" He waves, "take care of my girl."

"Like, that is so cute." Maddy gushes as we move to hide between two stands. We all open our bags snorting bumps until the substance is gone. I look around, my entire body numb, and my emotions spike. I giggle as I hug the girls. "You two are my best friends."

As we walk, Maddy reveals a secret, "Okay, so if I tell you guys something, you swear on your fucking life you won't say a word?" "Of course." "Yeah. What?" Maddy stops, her eyes drop as she speaks, "I went through Nate's phone. And it was weird." I furrow my brows, "Is he cheating on you?" Maddy ushers us into the funhouse. "He has, like, 10 different pictures of dicks in his phone." My mouth drops as she speaks. "Oh, my god, he's so gay." "That's what I'm thinking!" Cassie interjects, "I don't know. He doesn't seem gay." Maddy shakes her head, turning around and looking at herself in the mirror.

I spin around seeing myself in one behind me. I do look good! I run my fingers along the mirror and giggle. "My parents would kill me right now." Cassie laughs, propping herself on my shoulder. "They're kinda strict." "Strict is saying it nicely." I stare at myself in the mirror feeling so warm, so confident, and myself. I'm a bad bitch. "Fuck my parents. They've fucked up my life enough." I trace my hips with a smirk.

Maddy smiles at me from her mirror, "Honestly, fuck Nate Jacobs." I turn to her with fire in my eyes. Mine and his family are close, Cal and my dad hold the same stupid ass values. "Fuck that whole family."

Maddy, Cassie, and I all walk around admiring ourselves in the mirrors. "right now I'm looking at a thousand versions of myself, and not only do I look good, I fucking feel good." I run my hands through my hair, "I feel so fucking good."

Maddy scoffs, her frustration rising, "So, if they've got something to say, they should just say it to my face, right?" "You should punch Nate in the face." Cassie giggled, "Or you could just say it to their fucking face." "Maddy you totally need to prove your point."

Cassie looks at herself, "I feel like this is a turning point." Maddy and I 100% agree. We're becoming our real selves. "We should just pick the hottest, most confident, bad bitch version of ourselves, and be that for the rest of the school year." Maddy turns to us with a devilish smirk on her lips. "I'm going to say some shit to them."

Maddy storms out of the funhouse and struts to the chili tent with determination. We stand in the crowd waiting for the prize to be awarded. Every family member is present. Cal and Marsha with their two golden sons. Besides them, my parents stood watch, proud smiles on their faces and taking up collections for the church. "And this year's winner of the chili cook-off is... Cal Jacobs! Make it six years and running!" The crowd claps loudly, Maddy screams over them, catching everyone's attention. She walks forward as she yells. "Yeah, I'm not supposed to be here right now, because I'm dressed like a hooker, and none of you like me, but I just wanted to say congratulations." She stands in front of the large chili pot. Nate rolls his eyes, "Maddy, get out of..." Maddy tips the pot over, spilling the chili everywhere. "What in God's name is your problem?" Marsha asks Maddy. Maddy glares at her, "You, cunt."

I can't contain my laughter in the silence of the crowd. I cackle, my parent's eyes moving to me. "(Y/n)!" My mother hisses, she stops towards me. "What in gods name are you wearing?" My father strips his coat placing it on my shoulders. "She looks like a bad bitch! That's my best friend!" Maddy screams as Nate drags her away.

I slip away from my mother's grip, "I have to go catch up with Dylan." "Don't you walk away." "I just have to..." "(Y/n), don't you dare." "I'll be right back." I throw my hands up innocently as I walk backward away from them, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd. I fun to Fez with a thick smile. I see him handing tickets out and jump in front of him. "Shit!" Fez laughs as I fling my arm around his neck. "I missed you so so much!" I nuzzle my head into his chest. "God, you smell so good!" "Just weed baby." He laughs throwing an arm around me.

#euphoria x reader #euphoria x y/n #fez fic #fez x reader #fezco euphoria #fezco fic #fezco x reader #fezco x y/n #fez #fezco smut

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stargazing-imagines · 2 years ago

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Overprotective (Brandon Walsh, Dylan McKay x Reader)

Description : you are best friends with Dylan and Brandon, and let just say that they can be a tad overprotective when it comes to there best friend y/n

Requested : nope

Warnings : None

"So... would you like to go out with me this friday night?" asked a guy who had his hand above you're head, you on the other hand was twirling your money pieces blushing as the boy.

"I would love to." you said as you smiled, he beamed a big grin before walking away

Meanwhile Brandon and Dylan were watching the whole thing happen.

“Way to go y/n!” Said Brandon as he held his hand up giving you a high five which to you was a surprise but you gave him one anyway

“Thanks… guys…” you said as you shut your locker before walking away “either of you want to tell me why you were spying on mine and masons conversation?” You asked as you turned around to face the boys with a smirk on your face, clutching your books close to your chest

“Umm… would you look at that Brenda is calling for me.” Stammered Dylan “sorry but I got to go…”

With that Dylan left

“And I need to meet andrea about that… article for the blaze.”

And at that Brandon gave you a pat on the shoulder before walking away, making you roll your eyes before walking away.

——

“Ignore my brother he can be a bit dramatic at times.” Said Brenda as she was helping you get ready for your date, you, on the other hand, didn't mind it.

"Oh it's fine, you should have seen my dad, he wouldn't even let me out of the house," you said

"Don't worry, mines the same way when Dylan comes around," said Brenda as she put the last remaining hairspray onto your hairstyle "Perfect."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring yourself. Your hair was done up in curls as it perfectly framed your face

"Thanks, Bren, your the best." you said as you hugged your best friend, that was soon interrupted when Brandon walked through the door

"Now if that guy starts to make you uncomfortable, let me know." Said Brandon which earned a slap from Brenda.

"Brandon!"

"What, just saying."

Beep Beep

"That's him, bye guys," you said as you grabbed your purse before darting out the door

"They grow up so fast," said Brandon as he faked a tear, Brenda rolls her eyes at her twin brother

---

Beverly Hills 90210 Masterlist

#beverly hills 90210 #beverlyhills90210 #beverly hills 90210 imagines #brandon walsh x reader #dylan mckay x reader #90210 imagine

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x10: Isn't It Romantic?

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Chapter Summary: Dylan and Brenda's hook up causes everyone to reassess how they feel.

Warnings: A makeout scene! Lots of feelings, colds, condoms, more feelings, 2 different fights, mentions of sex, a little fluff, guilt, cuddling with a sick person, platonic (?) cuddling, swearing, angst, possible pining depending on how you look at it?

Word count: 4,000

A/N: This was definitely one of my favorites! Brenda and Dylan are one of my favorite couples ever so I'm looking forward to that. Don't cuddle with contagious people, folks.

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

"Hey, B," you strolled over to Brandon in the Walshes backyard. The sun, per usual was unrelentless and aggressive, bright. But the birds were chirping, you were at the Walshes, and you felt great.

"Hey Y/N/N,"

"Uh-oh, how's Mondale?" You placed your hand on the hood of the Chevy, and tapped it with the pads of your fingers, observing the car's fleshed out state.

"Oh, he's fine, just tuning him up a little," A loose grey tank top hung on his shoulders, grease from the car in every odd place on his body. And he still had the audacity to look that good. "We're still on for the movie tonight, right?"

"What, like I would miss seeing Animal Crackers on the big screen? I'd hope you wouldn't take me for a fool, Walsh," You smile, and he grins back, wiping off the tool, twisting it in his hand.

Dylan slides out from under the car, just as grease-laden as his friend. He smiles up at you, squinting from the sun. He takes the wrench from Brandon, "That's what I kept tellin' him, no girl in her right mind can resist Animal Crackers."

All four of you crowd around the movie theater table, setting your drinks, various amounts of snacks, and a large bucket of popcorn down. A girl, tall with curly blonde hair struts over.

"Hi Dylan," she smiles.

"Hey, how you been?" He chuckles, lips wrapping around the straw of his soda.

"Great," she taps her straw on his shoulder, breaking it open and pulling it out with her teeth. With that, she walks off.

"Friend o' yours?" Brandon asks.

"Well, we used to hang out a little bit. I would've introduced you guys, but I forgot her name,"

"Nice," Brenda nods.

"What a gentleman," you add.

"Wait, it's not my fault! She keeps changing it! To-- to things like 'Tanya' or 'Blue' 'cause her real name is something like 'Gertrude', or 'Beatrice', or 'Brenda,'" He quips, dangerously close to cracking up at his own joke. Brenda takes her straw and jams it against his shoulder, taking it out with her teeth and walking off. You smile delightedly to the boys and follow Brenda in.

Rock music fills the apartment as you sit down on the sofa, Brandon directly to your right.

"This sound system is incredible! I mean, it's like it's alive!" Brenda praises the stereo as she sits down onto the ottoman.

"Yeah, you don't just hear it, you feel it!" Dylan enthuses.

"Sub-woofers, right?!" Brandon asks.

"You got it," Dylan answers. The doorbell to the apartment buzzes, making him hop to his feet. "Foodage!"

"Hey, thanks for letting me come with you guys," Brenda says.

"Oh, no problem! It's nice having another girl here,"

"Yeah, and you play cards, right? Maybe you could come with us again," he leaned over the back of the sofa, "What do you think, McKay?!" Brandon shouts back to him, who's got four paper bags in hand as he makes his way back.

"Absolutely!" The four of you pounce on the bags, immediately digging into them.

"Hey, these fries are just like at the hotel," Brandon comments.

"They are from the hotel, ever since my dad closed the suite, Henry sends them to me because he knows we need our fix," He juts his pointer finger out and wiggles it between you and him.

"He gave up the suite? What happened?"

"Long story," he sits onto the floor, and looks up at Bren, "Hey! It's your turn, pick 'em!" Brenda shuffles through the different rock CDs on the table.

"Okay, okay! What about--" she hands one to Dylan, "--that?" Dylan gives her a sceptical "Are you serious?" Look before taking it.

"Ha, yeah okay," He giggles, taking it out of the case. Dylan shows both you and Brandon,.to which Brandon responds

"Oh, no, absolutely not!" All four of you begin to bicker light-heartedly, the CD issue clearly very polarizing.

Oh, joy. Let the wonders of the Health class sex unit begin. With Steve Sanders directly behind you, Brenda to your left, and David & Scott in front of you this class was always... interesting. The class period starts and Steve leans forward.

"Did you ever notice that when the subject turns towards sex Mr. Kravitz starts playing with his beard?" You and Brenda turn forward and see-- you guessed it! Mr. Kravitz your 45-year-old, Jewish, white, male teacher playing and scratching beard. Twin looks of disgust are thrown back Steve's way. He was right. And you were never going to be able to unsee that. Gross.

You're sitting at Brandon's blanket-covered feet as he sneezes for the tenth time that night. The blue robe he's wearing matches his eyes and his scratchy, deep, sick voice has got you melting when it definitely shouldn't be. He's still hot when he's sick. What an asshole.

Brenda waltzes in, her shoes clicking against the hardwood, ready to go for the second night of Marx Bros. festivities. She sits next to Brandon on the ledge of the couch, legs on the ground.

"I hope you feel better!"

"Hey, come on. It'll be fun. You can be the nurse, and Dylan can be the orderly," He jokes, his voice low and raspy. Fuck hormones and the horse they rode in on, because you're actually attracted to him right now.

"You don't want us to get sick, do you?" She responds. Brenda hops up when she hears the car horn. "Bye guys!" She's out of the door before anyone else can get a word in.

"Wait a minute, she's going out alone with that guy?" Jim complains, stacking up the piles of paper on his desk.

"Apparently," Cindy shrugs. Jim's pouting like a child, and stomps out of the room. His wife is following behind him, looking to calm him down.

"So I see your dad's a fan of Dylan," you jokingly muse.

"Yeah, they're buddies, I think I think he’s inviting Dylan out for golf and a movie," He smiles, "Are you sure you want to stay here? I don't know how much fun this is going to be." Brandon raises his mug of tea to his lips.

"I'm positive. I mean I've seen Duck Soup about a million times anyway," you assure him, "How are you feeling, by the way? Need more cough syrup?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks," He sits up, scooting over yo the far edge of the couch, "C'mere."

"What? Brandon, you're sick,"

"C'mere!"

"Brandon,"

"Y/N,"

"Fine," You show faux discontent as you lie down in the empty space, "I'll bite. What are we watching tonight?"

"Well, I've narrowed it down to either Quantum Leap or Magnum P.I."

"Oh, go with Quantum Leap, no question."

You stir back onto your side from your stomach, and your nose is met with the soft skin of Brandon's cheek. You moan sleepily and inhale, preparing yourself to get up even though it's the last thing you want to do. You open your eyes, trying to blink the sleep out of them. Your left hand is currently draped over his chest, with your legs intertwined with his. You needed to get up but... he was warm, and welcoming, and gentle and... your home definitely was not. You inch yourself up, getting up as gently as possible, lifting your arm up from him. He lets out a gravelly groan and wraps his arms around you.

"Stay."

"It's late, B," you yawn, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He mumbles a sleepy "mhmm," and you stand up, straightening out your clothes. "Love you, Y/N/N." WHAT?!

Okay, he's hopped up on cough syrup. It doesn't mean anything. It might've been an accident. Y'know, like when you tell the pizza guy you love him? Right? Right?

You're sitting own on the carpet of your bedroom floor, parallel to Dylan. The plush eggshell carpet is soft under you but the air in the room is hostile, uneasy, tense. You were sleepy, fighting to keep your eyes open due to it being 3 in the morning. He got here around midnight, and it's been nothing but utter chaos since.

"So, you're sure you're good with me and Brenda?" He tries to catch your gaze but you actively avoid it, your eyes darting to the window, the closet, wherever.

"Brenda and I," you correct him jokingly, but the playful part of it doesn't carry through in your voice. "I'm happy for you guys."

"Y/N," He starts.

"Dylan, don't," you beg, "On the off-chance that I wasn't okay with it, what good would it do? What would it change?"

"I- I need to know where we're at," He stresses, "Because you're sending me about a million different signals right now. I'm exhausted, Y/N/N. I need to know how you feel."

"I think..." you sigh, pondering, "you need to be with Brenda, if that's what you want."

"Stop telling me what you think and tell me how you feel," He urges. You bolt to your feet looking to escape, but he joins you, with a gentle grip on your shoulders. If he was anyone else, you would've been scared. But it was him. And you weren't.

"I feel like you need to be with my best friend. She's the one wanting to be with you, and she's the one you started dating." His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep shaky breath. His grip on you drops before he speaks again, his voice much quieter, much softer than before.

"Do you have feelings for me?" You're taken back by his boldness, your eyes widened and your brows furrowed. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing seems right. So you stay quiet. "Y/N, come on." His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer, a hint to what's going on inside your head.

"Maybe I did when I first got here, but--" you run your hands through your hair, inhaling. "Dylan, we're friends. That's all we're ever going to be, and that's all I want to be," He paces around your room as you sit back onto the foot of your bed, it faintly squeaks under you.

"Do you really believe that?" He laughs sourly. "We've never been just friends, and you know it." The faintest scowl was on his face, whether it was from disappointment or annoyance you couldn't tell. "You really think there isn't anything between us?"

"Yes! Because there isn't!" You're shouting now, desperately. And by all meanings of the word you're frustrated. Intensely. And thankful that your parents decided to go out tonight. "I can't do this to Brenda!"

"You wouldn't be doing anything. She's not my girlfriend, we're not getting married, hell, we're barely even friends! It was one kiss!"

"If the kiss was so insignificant, why tell me at all?!"

"Why are you so bent out of shape over this--"

"Why are you?! I--"

"Would you just shut up for a minute?!" His voice was boisterous, livid, you wouldn't be surprised if Eric could hear from the other side of the house.

"Make me!"

You're not sure how long you two had been bickering at this point. It had been going on all night. About Brenda, about Brandon, Steve, Dylan's dad, Mondale, pie. And every single time it circled back to the same topic: feelings. It was a topic that both of you were well acquainted with but not always willing to talk through. Especially when it had to do with each other. But you weren't losing this without a fight, because if you cared about your friendship with Brenda at all, you had to stick up for her. The weird thing is, these past few months you and Dylan had been drama-free. No spats, no arguments, no sparring. And now? You were both swinging at the other person whenever you could get a hit in.

Wednesday morning came around, and Brandon was trying to catch up with Dylan as he raced down the hall.

"Dylan? How's it goin'?"

"Gettin' by, how's the cold?"

"Better, thanks,"

"Where's Y/N/N? Aren't you two usually following each other around like lost little puppies?"

"She's sick," Brandon sighs, "I feel real bad about it too, it's kind of my fault. She stayed over the night you and Bren went out." Yeah, cuddling with a guy that has a major cold? Bad idea. "How was the movie, by the way?"

"We didn't make the movie," He shrugs.

"Hi," Brenda grins. She places a soft kiss to Dylan's cheek as he puts his arms around her.

"Brenda, hi,"

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't go to the movie?"

"How'd it go with Brandon playing nurse?" Kelly smirks.

"Fine," you laugh, "He came over, we played monopoly, I got high on cough syrup, we watched some Hartley House reruns. It was... fine."

"Oh, he is majorly into you," Kelly muses.

"He is not!" You argue. Crossing your arms over your chest, you continue, "He's just returning the favor."

"He's totally hooked. What guy would spend 6 hours at a girl's house when she's phlegmy and sneezing if he wasn't already completely in love with her?"

"I agree with Kel, Y/N/N. Brandon didn't stop talking about you after he got back! Y’know, he can be so sweet when he's not faced with the challenges of sticking up for me and Dylan. It's like they're all in this conspiracy to take away the most exciting and best thing that's happened to me since we moved here!" Brenda rants. Kelly lies on her side, flipping through a magazine with her back to you both.

"That's why you're going to keep your date with Dylan and sleep at my house," You pick up one of Kelly's discarded magazines. "You can't let your parents stop everything fun that ever happens to you."

"This is going so fast," She's apprehensive as she speaks, her brows creasing slightly.

"And we're just talking about it, wait till you get to the real thing," Kelly smirks.

"I guess I'm more into the romance angle, like in the movies,"

"That's all well and good for the movies, but you do have protection right?" Kelly looks up from her Cosmopolitan to eye Brenda up. Brenda pauses, and swallows.

"Well, no,"

"Open that drawer," She points to her nightstand, and Brenda pulls out a small wooden box, "Basic rule number one-- Never rely on the guy. Memorize that." She opens it up,

"You sound so clinical," Brenda criticizes anxiously. Kelly rolls her eyes, taking a silver condom out.

"Dear, clinical is 'What time shall we schedule the procedure?'"

Brenda's jaw drops, "Kelly, that's awful!"

"Would you rather be sitting around and thinking about names? How about Dylan Jr. or Brendina?" Brenda sighs jaggedly.

"Fine, I'll take 'em. But this is not the part I want to be thinking about."

"If it goes well you won't be thinking at all. Here Y/N/N, take some too." She tosses a few to you, and you catch them with a soft clap.

"Kelly, I'm just getting over my cold. I don't think I'm going to be bedding anyone soon," you laugh.

"You never know," she shrugs, "it could come in handy."

"Hey Dylan, where you going so fast?"

"Got to be someplace, what's up?"

"I was hoping you could help me work on my car this weekend,"

"Look, I'd like to, but my old man got back in town. He's got... it's a long story,"

"You don't have time to tell me about it?"

"Not really,"

"Oh, but you do have time to make out with my sister and flirt with Y/N," He bites, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowed.

"What's your point?"

"My point is you better really like my sister. She's very romantic, and dreamy, and sweet and she's not going to move on that easily! Dylan, she's a virgin. And I don't think you should be messing around with Y/N/N when you've already got Brenda.

"I haven't been messing around with-- what kind of jerk do you think I am?" He scoffs, shaking his head, "Have a nice weekend."

You're frantically helping Brenda get dressed, get undressed, get dressed again, and are now helping her do her hair and makeup in the mirror. She's been so nervous all night, now you're nervous and it's not even your date.

"Earrings?" Brenda asks, playing with her hair, "No, I don't need earrings. What else do I need?" Brandon stands in the other side of the bathroom doorway, watching you both pace around the entire time.

"Shoes!"

"Shoes!" She repeats, "Shoes, shoes, shoes!" You race over to her small, but albeit nice shoe collection and help her slip both black heels over her feet. "Okay, okay! What do you think?"

"You look perfect, Bren!" You smile genuinely and excitedly, your eyes crinkling at the edges. She hugs you, and you could practically feel the nerves bouncing around in her. "Have a great time tonight, okay?"

"Okay! Bye Brandon, bye Y/N/N!"

"Bye!" His voice startles you. You'd been so wrapped up in helping Bren look flawless that you didn't even notice he was there.

"I hope everything goes well tonight." You pause, and then step over to him, "What's going on in that head of yours, Walsh?" He was watching you from the moment you got there-- not predatorily or creepily but... fondly. It was unlike him. He was always talkative, with a joke to crack or a comment to make. Dylan was more of the silent observant type. So to see him so speechless was almost concerning.

He says nothing and places a gentle hand under your chin. He lifts it and brushes his lips against yours. If this was a cheesy 80s sitcom, this would be the time the live studio audience would be going nuts because this kiss was... wow.

You return it, and it's an immediate switch of energy. Your hand goes to the back of his head as his hands find themselves against the small of your back and the kiss becomes hungry. Desperate. He worked his mouth against yours, and with his hands and his mouth and the way he felt against you-- your senses were ignited.

You pull away abruptly.

"What?--" you begin. You're both panting lightly, and he's just as flustered as you are. He draws intoxicating little circles on your arm as you both let your breathing calm.

"You wanted to know what was going on inside my head. There you go." Were you blushing? It felt like you were blushing.

"Oh." You look up at him, "Is there a possibility that your train of thought might need to be examined further in the near future?"

"Yeah, I think that's a possibility."

"Brenda?" You enter her bedroom through the conjoining bathroom. Inching closer to her, you see her as she's curled up at window sill, wet cheeks and puffy eyes. She drops the curtain wordlessly and turns toward you. Silently, you wave Brandon in. He tiptoes in and sits at the foot of her bed. You'd never seen her like this before. So vulnerable, so upset. So broken.

You wanna talk?" You ask, sitting down beside her as she sniffles.

"I've been talking to Kelly all night. And it didn't get me anywhere," She bellows, her voice breaking as she speaks. Your stomach wrenched.

"Well, we're open for the morning shift," Brandon offers,

"He didn't show up," she croaks out, "I was ready to spend the night with him. And he didn't show up." Oh, you were so going to kill him later. Brenda looks up at you for the first time that morning, shaking her head in disbelief. "What a jerk, huh?" That total asshole.

"He can be," you nod.

"Not him, me! I thought I was special," her voice comes out wavering and sad.

"You are, Bren," Brandon insists.

"Well, not to him obviously," she tucks a hair behind her ear, "And then finally I call him, and this man told me he was there but that he wouldn't speak to me."

"Brenda, you can't beat yourself up over someone like him," you put a soothing hand on her back.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know. I thought he was different... but he doesn't let people in,"

"I don't understand, Y/N! We were so there! Even yesterday out on the lawn, we were together! We were in sync! I was so happy," She's working herself up again, eyes redder and bottom lip quivering as she shouts, "I don't know what happened but something happened!" You were going to crucify that son of a bitch.

"I'm really sorry, Bren,"

"I have to find out what I did wrong," She cries out, "I need to know what happened."

You waltz into the robotics lab on your free period and find exactly who you were hoping for, sitting at the computer.

"Busy lately, Dylan?" Your arms cross over your chest as you lean against the doorframe.

"Well, if it isn't the queen of tact and diplomacy," he retorts, face still in the monitor.

"What the hell is going on with you?" You spit out, "I know you moved. Brandon and I went to your old house. They said you didn't even leave a forwarding address!"

"It's a long story," he dismisses, wheeling over to the other end of the table on his desk chair.

"Would you rather tell it to Brenda?"

"Y/N, don't start that with me, alright! I got the message," he barks, "you don't want me to hurt your best friend!"

"Then why is that exactly what you did?!" You reprimand loudly, trailing behind him as he gets up and walks to the other table. "I need to know that I had nothing to do with you standing her up, and that I had nothing to do with the utter pain that she's in right now." Your eyes are narrowing as he turns to face you.

"Look, it wasn't because of you. Okay? You gotta believe me-- something came up! That's all!"

"It's one thing not to talk to me, Dylan, I get it. But when you do it to her, she feels like she did something wrong!" As you finish your sentence his jaw clenches.

"It wasn't her!" He fumes, "It had nothing to do with her!" His fists clench against the white table.

"Tell her that! She was so upset, Brandon said she even stayed home from school today." You wait for his response, but he ducks his head, breaking eye contact with you. You scoff, "Fine. It's got nothing to do with her, nothing to do with me. Meanwhile, you're not talking to either of us. Makes a ton of sense!" You huff silently, "See you later, pal."

“I can’t believe him! He swears it’s no one’s fault but--” Steve cuts you off.

“You’re just way too emotionally involved with this, who cares? If he says it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault. Guys don’t beat around the bush like chicks always do. if he says it, he means it,” He scoffs as you both trail down the hall. You think for a minute. Somewhere under the misogyny and the blatant Steve-ness of that sentiment, there might have been a point. Maybe you were putting too much into it. Maybe you just needed to take a step back and look at it objectively.

“Actually,” you sigh, “you might be right.” Steve’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, really?” You nod. “Can I get that in writing? I want to have it tattooed.” Your eyes roll and you send a light push to his shoulder as you both laugh.

Objective. You could be objective.

The next day you're standing against the beige walls of the school auditorium, as Dylan trots over to you.

"Dylan, before you say anything-- I'm sorry. I totally flipped out on you. It's just been a weird confusing week for me, so if I took out my frustration on you--"

"No, I put you in a weird position with this whole Brenda thing, If it felt like I was trying to make you choose... sides or somethin', well... I'm sorry," He says. You smile at him, and he goes to smile back but he sneezes into his sleeve. "But you can be sorry for giving me your cold," he laughs.

"So, you worked everything out with Bren, huh?"

"Yeah, uh, everything's worked out,"

Before you can respond, Brandon waltzes over to your other side, mumbling a "hey," and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Brandon, hi," you grin as he clasps your fingers with his, bringing your knuckles to his lips. He matches your grin, leaning into you.

"You guys good?" He asks, finger wiggling to you and Dylan.

"Yeah, we're good," you nod, "You two good?"

"We're good," Dylan confirms.

"Good!"

"Good."

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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BH 90210 S1 Masterlist

1x02 The Green Room

1x03 Every Dream Has It's Price Tag

1x04 The First Time

1x05 One on One

1x06 Higher Education

1x07 Perfect Mom

1x08 The 17-Year Itch

1x09 The Gentle Art of Listening

1x10: Isn’t It Romantic?

1x11: B.Y.O.B.

1x12: One Man and a Baby

1x13: Slumber Party

1x14: East Side Story

1x15: Palm Springs (AKA a Fling in Palm Springs)

1x16: Fame Is Where You Find It

1x17: Stand (Up) And Deliver

1x18: It’s Only A Test

1x19: April Is The Cruelest Month

1x20: Spring Training

(Updated on 3/25/21)

#season 1 masterlist #rewrite masterlist #beverly hills 90210 x reader #beverly hills 90210 #beverly hills 90210 imagine #brandon walsh x reader #brandon walsh imagine #brandon walsh #steve sanders x reader #steve sanders imagine #steve sanders #dylan mckay imagine #dylan mckay x reader #dylan mckay #brenda walsh #kelly taylor #andrea zuckerman #david silver #donna martin

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x09: The Gentle Art of Listening.

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Chapter Summary: Who the hell is Nina?

Warnings: Mentions of sex, jealousy, swearing.

Word count: 2,200

A/N: I did skip 1x08 due to there not being a ton to do with it, and if I did write it, it would have been reeeaally short haha. But that means there’s a bonus chapter of some kind coming soon! Next week we’re tackling 1x10: Isn’t It Romantic? which means the start of Dylan and Brenda!

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

Crowds of people gathered around the schoolyard, hip-hop music booming and people cheering as the cheerleaders carried on their routine.

“Brandon, did you sign up for Battle of the Beverlies?” Steve taps his friend on the shoulder as he walks up, sun beaming brightly onto them both. His blonde curls were firm in their place, thanks to the substantial amount of hairspray he applied this morning.

“I would have, but since I work nights it’s difficult. What about you?” Brandon’s dirty blonde hair blew in his face, making him crinkle his nose.

“I’m in the uh, coed tug of war,” He smirks.

“Well, aren’t we all?” Dylan sneaks up behind them, in his usual white tee and leather jacket.

“Hey Dylan, I didn’t think grudge week would be your kind of thing,” Brandon greets.

“Grudge week is every guy’s thing,” Dylan chuckles as Steve snickers and puts on his sunglasses.

“What? I don’t get it,”

“Well, a lot of the girls get into the uh, the spirit of the scene and try to pick up older guys,” Steve grins, “Looks like Y/N’s enjoying this tradition herself.” He nods his head over to where you are– leaning with your back against the lockers, hip jutted out, twirling your hair as you talk up some senior jock. “Brandon, I thought you locked her down already?”

“Nah, she… we… agreed to be friends,” he explained for what must have been the umpteenth time that week. Brandon stiffened as he watched you over there with him, as the guy scribbles something down on a piece of paper and hands it to you.

“Mom, this is not funny,” Brandon gripes as his mother scrubbed at the dishes. He adjusts the cap on his head and starts chopping up a tomato.

“I didn’t say it was funny, it’s adorable!” She fawns.

“Adorable? How about psychotic?” He argues.

You roll your eyes, “Brandon, she has a crush on you! It’s cute!”

“Right! You should be flattered!” Mrs. Walsh smiles.

“Flattered that a 14-year-old follows me around all day?! And, you know, the worst part of it is, if I accidentally make eye contact with her she pretends she’s looking over the rainbow or something!” You instinctively roll your eyes for the second time. Boy, he was melodramatic sometimes.

“She’s just shy, honey, that’s all. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care!” He sure acted tough for a guy that was helping his mommy make dinner. And he sure was cute. Even with that dumb blue backwards hat on.

“Oh, you’re such a heartbreaker!” Cindy jokes, moving to set the table.

“It’s because he can afford to be,” you quip.

“So, d'ya hear about what Brandon got up to last night with Nina?” Steve wiggles his eyebrows as you both walk through the halls together.

“Nina?” Whatever. You’re friends. And he can talk to other girls. Nothing wrong with that. You don’t care. Nina who?

“Just this incredible older woman he met at the peach pit. They spent some time after work together. Brandon was… pleased,” okay, so you care a little bit.

“And? What’s your point?” You try to hide the eagerness in your voice.

“Get this! She gave him… a foot rub,” your hand immediately comes out and smacks him hard on the shoulder.

“Don’t scare me like that! You think I care if he’s getting massages from people?” You stare at him in disbelief and he laughs, happily.

“That might not be all he’s getting from her soon Y/N/N,”

Striding down the hall with Dylan, he begins to speak.

“Y'know, Brandon was asking my advice on making it with an older woman… I’m gonna guess that he wasn’t talking about you,” He grabs your book from you as you walk to study hall in the library. Tread lightly, Y/N. Dangerous territory. Be calm. Cool. Uninterested.

“And? What’d you say?!” Dammit.

“I told him what he wanted to know,” he shrugs.

“No! Don’t do that!” You’re doing great. Super chill.

“It’s fine, the guy has no idea what he’s doing!”

“But you still encouraged him,”

“What should I have said?”

“Anything! "No” or “Stop” or “Hey! What about Y/N?! Do her!”“

"Uh-huh,” the smile on his face was amused, with a familiar yet unknown sparkle in his eye, “And you do realize that would require actually telling him how you feel, right?” You sigh.

“I just can’t believe him, y'know? He refused to sleep with Sheryl because he wasn’t in love with her, but now he’s ready to give it up to some old lady masseuse?”

“…How’d you know she was a masseuse?”

“Steve likes to update me on all things Walsh, whether I want him to or not,” you both enter the library together, quiet chatter fills the room.

You loved talking to Dylan, whenever you talked he listened. Truly listened. He absorbed every single word that fell from your mouth– carefully, intently. It was so drastically different than talking to Steve, who loved annoying you, or Kelly, who you felt was too shallow at times to have a serious conversation with (Okay, it’s not that she’s shallow, she’s great! But she doesn’t like talking about anything more complicated than the sale at Henri Bendel’s or Donna’s impending nose job.)

And… Brenda? You loved her, but you couldn’t talk to her about the raging feelings you had for her brother. And you definitely couldn’t talk to her brother about it, either. Dylan on the other hand… you got each other. As cheesy as it sounds. He could come to you with anything, and you could come to him. And it just worked. You clicked. In like, a total friend way though.

“What about the time he spent the night with you? You weren’t complaining about his pre-marital exploits then,” His eyebrows go up as you both pull out your chairs from the wooden library table.

“Dylan, we didn’t have sex! We talked and I fell asleep in his bed. Fully clothed, platonic, unproblematic,” You sigh defeatedly, resting your chin in your hand, “I haven’t been able to get myself into the peach pit for a few weeks. Because then I’d have to see him in that stupid all-white uniform, looking all… Brandon-like and I don’t know what I’d do with myself. On one hand, I’m totally cool being his friend and on the other… I’m a wreck and I’m missing out on Nat’s apple pie because of it,”

“Well, how about this? We go to the pit around 5, and if you still feel awful after Nat’s apple pie then we can retreat back to my place and watch Animal Crackers. Deal?” You pause.

“You’re on, McKay,”

You, Kelly, and Brenda lay on Brenda’s bed, with you in the middle, watching the wooden ceiling fan swirl around and around and around.

“Where do you think we’ll be in 10 years?” Kelly’s voice is quiet under the whirr of the fan. “Like, do you think we’ll be in a good place? Happy?”

“I hope so,” you mumble.

“I’m sure you’ll be in Paris or Rome, with a fashion empire and a gorgeous husband,” Brenda smiles.

Steve and Brandon hold their ears to the bathroom door that connects the two bedrooms.

“Steve, I really don’t think this is a good idea–”

“Relax, it’s a great idea. It’s the only way to hear what actually goes on in there,” Steve scoffs, “Haven’t you spied on your sister before?”

“Yeah, when I was 12. I’m 17, dude,” He scolds him in a whisper as you and the girls chatter on the other side of the door.

“Do you think we’ll be married?” Brenda rests her hands under her head, her brown hair shiny and soft under her palm.

“Oh, totally! Or at least… close to it,” You smile.

“Bren, your husband is gonna be totally cool– like a musician or a race car driver or something. And Y/N/N, your husband’s… ” Her genuine smile morphs into a mischievous smirk “Steve.” You give her an offended gasp as you all erupt into giggles.

“No amount of money in the world, Kel,” you shake your head and sit up against Brenda’s headboard.

Brandon silently cracks up at his friend’s misfortune and perfect timing, and Steve delivers a hard hit to his shoulder.

“Actually, y'know who you’ll probably marry? Brandon,” You’re drop-dead silent. Brenda notices the look you’re giving her and she continues, “No, I’m serious! You guys are like, meant for each other. You’re basically the girl version of him– just prettier, funnier, less annoying, and…actually, majorly out of his league… but still, I think you guys would totally work.”

“There’s no way, he’s too… Brandon,” you reject, “And he’s your brother. I couldn’t do that, Bren. It’d be like Kelly dating my brother!”

“Well… is he cute?” Kelly smirks, blonde hair blowing softly under the fan. “Oh! You got that senior’s number for me, right?”

“Come on, I feel weird doing this,” Brandon protests, “If I want to know something I can just ask, I don’t have to invade her privacy.”

“It’s not like we’re watching them through a window, we’re just listening,”

“Look, you stay here and be creepy, but I have to get ready for work,” He stands up with a huff, leaving his tempestuous friend to his own devices.

“So?” Dylan folds his hands as you take your last bite of pie.

“You were right,” You concede, sliding the empty mini tin away from you, “You could say this pie was the answer to world peace and I’d believe you.”

“Want one more?”

“Ah, no I couldn’t. I should probably get going,”

“Crazy, have one more! On the house!”

“Really, I couldn’t,” you insist. Dylan holds up a finger and mouths “One more” and Nat is off into the kitchen.

“The secret is the sour cream,” Nat smiles, small pie in hand.

You look to Dylan, then to Nat. Why are they forcing pie onto you?

“Look, if it’s too much we can share it,” Dylan shrugs. You hand him a fork and leave yours on the counter.

“Brandon should be here soon if you want to stay a minute, I’m sure the kid would be happy to see you, you know… considering,”

“Considering?” You sip from your glass.

“Considering,” he winks, and in one swift motion he’s gone with your empty dish. Okay, you were sure of it. This entire town was on drugs.

Not even 5 minutes later, Brandon comes in through the back, all-white clothes adorning his figure. Heart be still.

“Oh, hey!” He smiles brightly, the scent of his cologne immediately apparent. (When did he start wearing cologne?)

“Oh, hi,” you take one last sip of your water, “I was actually just on my way out.”

“You haven’t even touched your pie yet! You love my pie!” Nat interjects.

“You sit and eat, I’ll be right back,” Dylan’s off into the bathroom and Nat’s disappeared suddenly into one of the booths.

Those bastards.

“So, what’s been going on, Y/N/N?”

“You saw me yesterday, not a ton,” you shrug and stick your fork in your pie, “Hung out with Brenda and Kelly, took a biology test, bought street drugs off some guy in a van,”

He chuckles brightly, “Productive day, huh?” He leans down, propping himself onto the brightly colored counter with his elbows.

“Oh yeah, this might be my favorite part though,” you barely nod as your eyes meet.

“Mine too,” He smiles bashfully, that twinkle in his eye going strong.

“Uh, the– the pie, obviously,”

“Oh yeah, no, the pie’s fantastic,” He grins, “do you want some ice cream with that?”

“Yeah, why not?”

The regular hustle and bustle of the hallways was a-go as Steve and Brandon trailed down them.

“Hey Brandon, whatever happened to that older chick that was coming onto you?”

“Oh, we’re just good friends,” He shrugs.

“Face it, you blew it!” Steve shakes his head as he speaks,

“Nothing was blown,” Brandon argued, “I decided against it and called it off.”

“You know what your problem is? You’re hung up on this age thing. What you need is a girl your own age! Someone spunky… annoying… hot, maybe midwestern!” Although those wouldn’t necessarily be Brandon’s choice of adjectives, he knew what his friend was getting to.

“Steve–”

“No, Brandon. I’m sick of you bitching and moaning about this girl, and I’m sick of her bitching about you. Look, I mean this in the friendliest way possible– it’s annoying and you’re both pathetic,”

Brandon’s brows furrow together, “Gee, thanks,”

“No, look, what I’m saying is… Instead of moaning apart… moan… together,” Steve’s eyebrows bounce up and down as he finishes his sentence, paired with his signature Cheshire grin. How long had he been preparing that line for?

“Y'know, that’s very insightful, but I think I’ve got it covered,” Brandon laughs, “But seriously, never give me relationship advice ever again.”

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x06: Higher Education

Read the previous chapter here!

Rewrite Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The Danzel curve brings out the worst in everyone.

Warnings: Swearing, Y/N and Brandon’s first fight, make out session, cheating on schoolwork, bad hairdos.

My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word count: 3,600

A/N: This was a fun one! And to all my Dylan fans. don’t worry, something’s… coming.

Feedback is appreciated!

“I grade on a curve. 10% A, 10% F. The remaining 80 get C’s. C for average, C for mediocrity. C for just getting by,” Mr. Danzel slowly trots around the room, handing out a bundle of C’s to his disgruntled students.

“God, who dresses him?” Donna giggles, leaning halfway on Steve’s desk, halfway on hers. You weren’t one to bash the way someone dressed, but Donna had a point. His suits were never… stylish, to say the least.

“There’ll be another quiz next Friday, and every Friday,”

“Love the tie, yeah,” She mumbles sarcastically, giving him the “ok” gesture when his back is to her. Mr. Danzel hands you your paper, a bright red “A” sketched across the top. You smile proudly to yourself. Brandon’s hand shoots up, brows furrowed.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Some of the people who made C’s only missed three or four questions,” Brandon airs his concerns, but all you can think about is how good he looked in that brown vest. Wow.

“Those who get A’s only missed one or two, that’s the difference between the pursuit of excellence and the morass of mediocrity,” he states back. Wasn’t that a little… harsh?

You walk out with Brandon and Steve at the end of the period, sighing at Brandon’s defensive mood. It had been a week since the kiss, and neither of you had brought it up. You’ve tried, sure, but everytime you had gotten interrupted. By Steve, or his mom, or Brenda, or Eric. So you decided to drop it. It would come up when it would come up. No big deal.

“History used to be my favorite subject,” He complains, voice whiney yet low.

“Yeah, the guy gives new meaning to the word hemorrhoid,” Steve agrees. Donna walks out behind him, denim clad.

“What did you get, Steve?” She asks, running her hands through her teased hair.

“What do you think?” He smirks.

“Oh, I hate you!” She pushes him playfully making Steve laugh.

“You got an A?” Brandon pipes in. Oh, here we go again.

“Yeah,” He brags, casually pushing his way past his friend and into the halls.

Steve got an A and Brandon didn’t? That’s… suspicious.

“Steve is such a brain when it comes to history! And a total sub-mental when it comes to everything else,” She teases. You giggle at each other before she leaves as well.

“Hey, you didn’t by any chance get a C, did you?” You raise an eyebrow at his steamed composure.

“Look, what are grades anyway? I mean, they’re just some weird arbitrary reference points that can’t measure what a person really knows!” He bellowed on an on, voice taught, trying to reason away his bad grade. You felt a little bad for him. If he was anyone else you’d be up the wall, but with him you were patient because… it was Brandon. You grab his hand gently as he looks into your eyes, trying to mellow down. “I’ve never gotten a C before in my life. Especially in history.”

“We could study for the next quiz together? I mean, if you want,” You offer, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I suppose you got an A?”

“Hey, what are grades anyway?” You rub his hand with your thumb before Brenda grabs you abruptly to walk with her and Kelly, her arm linked with yours.

“What I would do to go out with Dylan McKay!” Kelly sighs, holding her tote at her front.

“I don’t know, everyone says he’s trouble,” Brenda disagrees.

“He’s a good guy, he’s definitely got a little bit of a wild streak though,” you smirk, “Besides, he’s not as much trouble as he is majorly sexy.” All three of you giggle as Kelly brings you both over to Dylan’s locker.

“Hey Dylan,”

“Hey Kelly, Y/N,” He leans against his locker, tan jacket loose on his shoulders.

“We were just talking, what do you think guys like best on girls? Long or short hair?”

“Hmm, that’s a deep question,” he pretends to ponder, “Personally, I prefer blondes.” You bite down your smirk, knowing that he was just messing with her, toying. He also didn’t even answer the question he was asked, but whatever. He doesn’t necessarily have a preference, but you weren’t willing to explain how you knew that, nor get in the middle of this. Kelly lights up with a smug, flustered smile on her face.

“Really?”

“Really. Truly,” He shifts his attention onto Brenda. “So, you’re Brandon’s sister, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m Brandon’s sister,” she concurs. Their eye contact is intense. The energy to the air felt like it physically changed, something both you and Kelly picked up on immediately. Oh, this was so cute. They liked each other!

“Yeah, she’s Brandon’s sister,” she sighs. Kelly didn’t seem as fond of this as you did.

You walk around Brandon’s room, looking at his walls, his brown dresser covered with knick knacks and pictures, snooping around to keep yourself from getting bored while Brandon was in the bathroom. A swimsuit model calendar, some sport themed pictures you didn’t exactly understand, a few family portraits. When you hear the door open you hop back onto his bed, urgently, bouncing lightly.

“So, where were we?” He asks, taking his spot next to you. You could smell the sweet cologne he had put on while he was in there, and boy, did it smell good.

“The Cherokee nation,”

“Right, okay, uh.. who instigated the indian removal act and what year was it put in service?” Right. History. Think. Think about history. But it’s hard to think about history when he’s so close to you and smells so good. He looks gorgeous up close like this. But yeah, history. Okay.

“Andrew Jackson… 1828?”

“Wrong,” He states, eyebrows raised.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean wrong. The Georgia legislature confiscated the Cherokee land when they found the gold!”

“Jackson was president! He was the one who pushed the bill through Congress, so wouldn’t he be the one responsible for it?” You bicker back and forward. You’re both painfully close right now, due to his bed being on the smaller size. Your heart quickened everytime he accidentally touched you, everytime he looked at you, and you wanted nothing more than to just… pounce. But, you’re there to study, teenage hormones be damned. So, you restrained.

“Oh..” he sighs, “This is impossible, there’s too much to cover,” He looks down at his notes and breaks the eye contact.

“Look, just… memorize when the great migration took place and you’re good to go,”

“How?” His volume slightly raises.

“Just… do it!”

“Why do you say it like that, like it’s so easy?!” He argues back to you, but behind the tense walls of his voice is a playful tone.

“Because it is!” You bring your voice to match his, and from there it spawns a bickering war that I’m sure no one in the house wants to hear.

“No it’s not!”

“Yeah, it is!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes–”

You’re cut off abruptly with a kiss, his right hand behind your neck, bringing you closer. At first the kiss was moderately chaste, but as you kissed back, it grew hungrier, more passionate. He had tasted like the coffee he drank earlier and his hands were soft, slowly and gently moving you onto his lap. You heard Brenda rustling around in her room and footsteps outside the door, but you thought nothing of it. You felt his warm hands on your hips, heard the soft moans coming from both of you. You couldn’t get enough of him, and from the way he was touching you, you had a feeling he felt the same.

It all felt so good, so right, so exciting. One of your hands rested on his chest while the other resided on his neck. You weren’t sure how long this had been going on, but it stopped when you heard his bedroom door open. Instinctively, you basically flung yourself off of him, almost tumbling onto the hardwood floor. Thankfully, you’re able to steady yourself before that happens, as Mr. Walsh peeks his head in.

“Hi there,”

“Hi, Mr. Walsh,” you smile, trying to catch your breath as silently as you can. You hear Brandon panting lightly as well. Jim eyes up his son, noticing the lipstick on the corners of his mouth.

“Try to keep the door open, okay guys? Nice to see you, Y/N,”

You could feel your cheeks redden as he walked out. “Nice to see you too!” Both you and him breathed audible sighs of relief. “I should get going, Bran,” he gives you one last kiss, his hand on your jaw.

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Where we goin’?” Steve calls out, catching up to Brandon as they walk out of second period.

“Down the tubes,” he grumbles, stopping through the halls.

“Another victims of the Danzel curve, huh?”

“You get another A?” Steve nods at him as they wiggle through the crowds.

“Steve, my dad’s gonna kill me!” He sighs, shaking his head.

“Tell him Danzel gets his kicks out of ruining people’s GPA,”

“Doesn’t work with him– he graduated Phi Beta Kappa Summa Cum something, he never let’s anyone forget it!” Brandon’s seething as he rants, throwing his arm in the air.

“Maybe I could help you out, we’ll form a study group. You, me, Y/N, it’ll be fun,” he wiggles his eyebrows, pats him on the back, and walks off as Brandon ponders it.

You’re sitting on the side of Steve’s pool, your feet sticking in the water with a notebook on your lap. Brandon’s sitting cross legged to your right and Steve’s lounging in a pool float to your left. The radio’s blaring an alternative song you couldn’t bother identifying.

“For some reason this doesn’t feel like studying,” Brandon concluded.

“It’s all the same to me, Brandon,” Steve’s head is back and his eyes are closed, blissfully.

“Hey, nice house,” You compliment.

“This is nothing, you should have seen where I lived before my parents got divorced!” Steve boasts.

“When was that?” You question.

“Which time?”

“They’ve divorced each other multiple times?”

“Amongst other things. There have been other marriages mixed in. Other kids, other houses, you know,” he brushes it off like it’s nothing.

“No… I… really don’t,”

“What? Your parents are still together?” He says it like it was something to be ashamed of, something uncommon, unheard of. You nod, wordlessly. “Look, it’s not your fault, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself,” He jests, causing you to splash him with pool water, all three of you laughing.

“Alright, anyway… what method did the government use to undermine the tribal structure?” Brandon quizzed, tapping his textbook.

“He’s not gonna ask that,” Steve shakes his head dismissively.

“Land allotment, the government detribalized everything by giving every indian a little piece of land,” You answer.

“Hey, Brandon, you wanna go to the laker/piston game next week?”

“You can get tickets?” He skeptically raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, my father gave me season tickets for my birthday!” What didn’t Steve have?

“All I got was a steak dinner and a couple of striped shirts,” Brandon laughs.

“I get great presents ever since my dad moved out,” He’s gloating, sure, but there’s a sad truth behind everything he says, that you pick up on. “You know, if I can keep my average where it is now, I’ll be a trojan. My father’s on the board at SC,”

“Hey, with your grades you shouldn’t have much trouble getting in,” You respond, kicking your feet lightly under the water.

“You’re a good person, Y/N/N, you know that? You too, Brandon. I don’t say that to many people… In fact, I don’t say that to anybody,” he laughs heartily by the end of his sentence. Ahh. Vulnerability covered up with humor, that’s our Steve.

“Well, you’re a good guy too, Steve,” Brandon smiles.

“Okay– name the five tribes that made up the confederacy whose primary aim was perpetual peace,” he

“The confederacy?” Brandon tilts his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think we covered that in class,”

“Memorize it, trust me. It’s the exact kind of question the hemorrhoid likes to ask,”

You began your american history test, writing your name in the upper left corner.

Name the five tribes that made up the confederacy whose primary aim was universal, perpetual peace?

You looked up from your test, and your eyes are met with Brandon’s, who’s looking just as uneasy as you are. What did Steve do?

“Amazing how we studied for every single question on the test!” Brandon scolds.

“Isn’t that the point?” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.

“Steve, did you steal the test?” You lectured, crossing your arms.

“I happen to be smart, guys,”

“I know, but you couldn’t possibly–”

“Look,” he began, “Relax! It’s supposed to feel good to ace a test!” He trots off, away from the lecture you both were giving him.

“Can you believe him?” You sigh, Brandon giving you a kiss to the forehead.

“Brenda, I’m sorry, but that’s not a hairdo, that’s a hair don’t,” Kelly criticizes as Brenda tries to fix her hair in the mirror.

“Stop it, Kelly, you’re making her hairaphobic!” Donna jokes.

“Oh, come on it’s not that bad,” You try to level out the conversation. Brenda sighs, defeatedly.

“No, she’s right, I hate it. The color, the cut, the everything!”

“So change it,” Kelly urges, “it’s not like there’s a law that says you have to keep something you don’t like.”

“Oh, Brenda, my mom goes to this dope guy. He barely speaks english, has a ponytail, and he does Madonna,” You offer.

“Get real, Y/N, you’ll never get her in there! Go to Troy Russo on Rodeo, he’ll do anybody!” Kelly adds. You play with your hair in the mirror. Hmm. Should you go bleach blonde?

“How much does he cost?”

“Uh, color and cut– $300?”

“I can’t afford that,” She dismisses. Donna’s eyes go wide as she approaches the mirror, shock written all over her face.

“Oh, how embarrassing! I’m wearing both contacts on the same eye!”

“And you thought you had problems,” Kelly stifles her laugh, and you and Brenda do the same. Bless Donna Martin.

“Those of you who find the Danzel curve unfair may be encouraged by the resurrection of Brandon Walsh. Not only did he get an A, he’s the only one of you philistines who didn’t miss a single question. Kudos are in order,” Mr. Danzel passes out his weekly test once again, stopping at Brandon’s desk as the class gives him a round of applause. After, you stop him by the soda machine in one of the main halls.

“Congrats, egghead!” You smile.

“Hey, I aced one test, it’s no big deal,”

“It is a big deal, you totally messed up the curve,”

“Why, what’d you get?” He looks at you, a glint of concern in his eye.

“A C,” you sigh, “But hey, what are grades, right? Goodbye Stanford, hello San Quentin,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N,” he takes your hand delicately.

“Don’t be, Bran, you earned it,” you give him a quick kiss and a smile before going off into your next class.

Another Friday, another test.

And some more questions he never went over.

You glance at Brandon after the teacher checks on him, and you spit him pulling out a note card from his backpack and sliding it under his paper. That bastard.

“Come on, Y/N, will you let me explain?!”

“Explain what?! How you went along with Steve’s stupid plan? How you screwed everyone else over? How you were totally out of line and dishonest?!” You bark, eyes narrowed as he chases you down the schoolyard and into the journalism room.

“Y/N/N, come on! It’s not like I do it all the time!” He pleads.

“Right,” you bite back sourly, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not letting Danzel ruin my GPA!”

“But you sure will screw over everyone else’s and let him give you a standing ovation when you don’t deserve it!” You fumed, fists clenching ever so slightly, “Look, I just don’t want to talk to you, alright?” Your volume lowers as you stomp over to your spot. You let out a laugh, sarcastically. “You know, if you were anyone else I would’ve turned you in already.”

“Oh, there she is!” You walk up to Brenda with Kelly and Donna at either side of you, bright and early in the morning.

“Brenda, we’ve been looking all over for you!” Kelly calls out, “cute hat.”

“I was in a hat mood,” Brenda defends.

“Show us your hair, silly,” Kelly smiles, yanking the yellow woven hat off of her head. You gasp, sharply. Brenda’s hair was poofy, red, with white stripes down the middle. One more color and she could qualify to be an American flag.

“Brenda…” you trail off, “it’s…”

“Great!” Kelly continues.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too–”

“No! I… love it!” Donna half smiles.

As you three begin to walk off, you mutter “Kelly, what did you do??”

It’s Saturday morning, and you’re at the Beverly Hills public library, studying for your history midterm. You were determined to get an A whether Brandon got one or not.

And speak of the devil, he comes over and slides into the seat next to yours, no warning, books in hand. “What are you doing?” You ask, eyes buried in the books.

“You’ve never cheated on anything, huh?”

“I’m trying to study,” you pause. Brandon rests his head in his hand, and he looks so damn pretty but you’re so damn mad and it him and– “No, no I haven’t.”

“But you’ve wanted to,”

“Of course I have, Brandon,” Your eyes are still focused in on your paper, refusing to look over to your gorgeous friend. “But I didn’t. You did!”

“And you’re never gonna let me forget it, are you?” You roll your eyes at that, and set down your pencil. “You know, sometimes you act like you have a personal stake in everything I do, like we’re a couple or something!” You’re fully turned to him now, and he is to you. You scoff as he continues. “This isn’t a black and white issue, Y/N/N! It was a gray area!”

“I know, Brandon! Just… leave it, okay?”

“Fine,” He shuffles to get his things, and walks over to the other area of the library. You knew you and Brandon would fight eventually, it’s was friends do. And you had known each other for months now, so you guess it was a given but.. it was making you both feel a lot more miserable than you expected.

You spot Brandon in the halls and run up to him. He’s in a mustard colored tshirt and of course, denim jeans. He has no right looking that good and yet… he does. “Hey, B,” you say.

“Hi,” you both pause in the hall for a moment.

“Y/N,” “Brandon,” You both simultaneously start to speak.

“Sorry if I haven’t been in the best mood, I was up till late last night studying,” you begin.

“I was too,”

“What, making cheat sheets?” You were only half joking.

“It… crossed my mind. But if I cheated, I might end up screwing over this girl I like, who I care about and respect… way more than she could ever know,” you smile at your shoes, “even if she can be a little bit of a pain sometimes.”

“I know a guy who’s one of those,” you nod as he smiles back at you.

“Well, maybe we should introduce them, they’d probably get along just great,” his voice is soft today, gentle, playful.

“Oh, actually… I think she’d hate him,” you could practically hear the grin in your voice.

“That’s a real shame,” He says, him pulling you up, and you pulling him down, to have a soft, passionate kiss.

“So, you, Minnesota, what’s going on?”

You sit down on the couch of the hotel room, curling up.

“Not much, we’re friends, why?”

“Everyone saw you guys going at it in the hallway,” he teases, handing you 2 scoops of cookies and cream ice cream in a clear crystal bowl.

You laugh lightly, “We weren’t ‘going at it’ in the hallway, it was one kiss.” You take a bite, “We went at it in his bedroom. Very different,” you joke. Dylan chuckles as he loads on the sundae toppings. “How are things with Brenda?” You wiggle your eyebrows, smirking.

“She seems cool, that’s about it.”

“She is cool,” you nod, adding more whipped cream to your bowl. You eat in silence for a moment before Dylan speaks.

“So, does Brandon know about–”

“No.”

“Does Brenda know about–”

“No.” He mimics, “And I don’t think we should tell them.” You stare down at your bowl, and sigh. You set it down, and lift up the two VHS tapes on the coffee table.

“So, Back to the Future 3 or GoodFellas?”

Tag list: @be-patient-be-good @blueoz @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @lilo-1988

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

Text

BH 90210, The Rewrite: Masterlist

What’s a rewrite? A rewrite is taking the show already written and inserting your new character (you!) and your own storylines into it. It gives you a chance to get involved and it takes already known and loved (or hated) characters and gives you a chance to see how they react in situations they never would have faced otherwise. Navigate the twists and turns of growing up in Beverly Hills alongside Brenda, Brandon, Kelly, Donna, David, Steve, Andrea, and Dylan.

(Updated 4/4/20)

Baby’s First Pilot, Part 1

Pilot Part 2, West Beverly Blaze Out

Season 1

Bonus Chapters

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x02: The Green Room

Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Sparks fly when Y/N meets the school’s resident bad boy and experiences L.A.’s oceans for the very first time

Pairing: No one yet :)

Warnings: Swearing, Dylan McKay

Word count: Roughly 4,700

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

A/N: First episode down, folks! Tag list is below. Let me know if you would like to be added! This was super fun to write, I’m looking forward to the future dynamic between Dylan and Y/N :)

“Yo, West Beverly! It’s T.G.I.F. In a major way today, ‘cause the sun’s shinin’! And yours truly is stoked for some major tanning this weekend so check it out! If life’s a beach, then why not live it?! This here’s D.J. Mike M.C. The voice of rhyme and reason on KWBH…” The D.J’s voice rings through the schoolyard as you walk up with Kelly and Donna, sun beaming bright and early.

“Kelly, Y/N!” Brenda shouts, walking up, Brandon at her side.

“Hey!” You greet her, smiling.

“Brenda, hi.” Kelly stops, holding her new, very expensive purse at her front.

“You guys remember my brother?” She gestures towards Brandon. You and him exchange a knowing look, causing a shy smile to creep up on your face. Yeah. You might know him.

“Hi, Brenda’s brother,” Kelly smiles, wind blowing her bangs away from her face. You mutter a shy “hi” to him.

“Brandon,” He corrects, offering a “hi” to all three of you. His eyes wander to you as Brenda speaks.

“So, what are you guys up to?”

“This weekend? Working on my back. I spent last Saturday lying on it, so my tan’s totally uneven.” Kelly shares as the wind picks up.

“Hah, at least you have one! I’m starting from scratch.” Brenda laughs, fixing her dark chestnut hair.

“Me too, Wisconsin doesn’t get a lot of sun this time of the year or…ever.” You agree, slinging your red tote over your shoulder.

“You two should start this weekend, Secos beach will be a major scene.” Kelly begins, but she’s cut short by Brandon.

“Great. Look, I’ll see you guys later, okay?” And with that, he’s running off into the school.

“Actually, I should get going too. See you guys at Secos!” You’re already turning to leave when they offer their goodbyes. You catch up with Brandon and follow him into the WBB printing room.

“I was wondering when you’d waltz in here,” Andrea states, her tone agitated and demeanor…not so friendly.

“Well, good morning, Andrea. So nice to see you too!” Brandon barks back, softer than Andrea was, but still with a bit of a bite. “Hi, Ms. Rye!” You both follow Andrea over to the printer. Oh god. How were you going to tell them you BROKE the school’s only laptop? And following that up with telling them you don’t have the money to pay them back? You were dead meat. You dreaded what was about to come, a pit in your stomach.

“Our ace sports writers, always a pleasure.” Ms. Rye responds, red curls bouncing on the shoulders of her chiffon shirt as she turns away.

“Here, Ace. Your next assignment.” Andrea snidely remarks, handing him a paper and turning away. Brandon claps his binder closed. Everyone was tense and you hadn’t even told them the bad news yet. Not a good sign.

“Sorry, Chief. I don’t do editorials.” He follows Andrea over to her desk, while she holds a pencil in her mouth. “Especially when they’re called 'From the Midwest to West Beverly– A Transfer Student Speaks.’” He grumbles. You and Ms. Rye watch them bicker, letting yourselves be entertained.

“So change the title…or get Y/N to help!” Andrea practically laughs in his face, turning away to work.

“A little help, Ms. Rye?” Brandon calls out, still facing Andrea.

“I’m just the Adviser, she’s the boss.”

“Brandon, just try it! You might be surprised by what happens!” Andrea argues, “Besides, you’re too good just to cover sports anyway.”

“Really, you think?” He wasn’t buying it. He knew when he was being buttered up. He could smell it from a mile away.

“She does. And so does she.” She points to Ms. Rye, and then to you. Brandon looks at the two of you, his eyes lingering on you just a little bit longer.

“You’re alright,” you joke, smirking at him. He pauses, in thought. The clicking of the printers and keyboards fill the silent space.

“Ok, fine. I’ll try it,” He concedes, turning back around.

“Great. Deadline’s tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s one day.”

“And a night!” Andrea replies.

“Andrea, I think it’ll keep till Monday,” Ms. Rye interjects, “Have Y/N work on it as well, she’s bound to have a fresh perspective on the situation too.”

“Morning. First thing!”

“You are relentless!” Brandon shouts, a playful tone behind his voice as he walks out to get something from his locker.

“Thank you.” Andrea counters, sitting down behind her computer.

“Hey, Ms. Rye? I need to talk to you about something.” Oh god. Here we go. This is where you die, isn’t it?

“What is it, Y/N?” She asks, glancing at you as she fills out paperwork. You feel overwhelmingly nauseous. Hey, maybe if you throw up everywhere you’d get pity forgiveness.

“Uh…I loaned out the school’s laptop the other day and it sort of…broke.” You swallow what felt like a boulder-sized lump in your throat. You grab your tote and place it up onto the table, frantically searching through it. “But I can pay to replace it! I just have to find the money!” You check your bag, then your pockets. Pulling out what you expected to be a dollar bill, you hand it to the adviser, until you realize– it was in fact not a dollar bill. It was the check. How the hell?

“Oh! Uh, paying to replace should be fine. You might have to work a few shifts in the library…but you should be okay,” she tries to soothe your slightly panicked behavior. You let out a long sigh of relief. Just add: Fight Steve Sanders onto your to-do list today.

“Awesome. Thank you,” You thank her, an apologetic tone lacing your voice. You pick up your assignment, placing it in your folder. “I told Brandon I’d meet up with him in the computer lab, so I better motor.” You speed walk down the hall, almost getting launched into Brandon by some guy pushing you out of his way.

“Hey,” You smile, leaning against the cold metal lockers.

“Hi,” He smiles back, closing his locker but his eyes almost never leave yours. You both walk down to the computer lab, getting a jolt whenever you two brush arms or hands. Stepping into the dark room, Brandon walks behind a freshman, hard at work. “What is it?” He asks.

“Floor plan,” the freshman responds, a proud smile on his face. The program sings and hums as he continues.

“What for?” You question, joining Brandon behind him.

“The perfect dance club!”

“I see you’ve done your homework man,” Brandon compliments.

“Looks are deceiving. I’ve never set foot inside a club! Everytime I try, I get carded,” The blonde freshman responds. A fake I.D. would fix that, you think.

“How’d you design it, then?” You ask, studying the computer as Brandon walks around the table, setting whatever he was dropping off down.

“I used my imagination instead of my experience,” The freshman smiles. Two rough looking seniors round the table, and begin to mock him.

“Oh, how sweet!” The one in the Letterman jacket speaks up, “How touching!”

“A little dork with big dreams!” They both walk on either side behind him.

“But no experience!” The Letterman jacket slaps his hand on the nameless freshman’s shoulder, spooking him like a deer in headlights. Oh god. Why did people have to be such dicks? Let the boy design his night club. You and Brandon watch, you notice him becoming alert, like he’s ready to jump into it at any second.

“At least I’m not the missing link,” the boy responds.

“What did you say?!” And with that, the poor, sweet freshman is yanked out of his chair by his shoulders and pulled close to that damn guy in the jacket. That must have been Brandon’s cue, because he jumps out.

“Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy, guy!” Brandon shouts.

“Where’s that erase command anyway, huh?” The senior in the gray long sleeve says, looking at the keyboard. Oh, you dick.

“Touch that board, my friend!” A fifth voice comes out, turning around from the back of the room. “Please, touch it.”

Oh, shit. Who was he? Pompadourian hair cut, single small hoop earring, the classic leather jacket and white tee. He joins the two asshole seniors at the other side of the room. “You know, the tragedy of this country is that creeps like you two end up running it,” you were in awe, watching how they let go of the boy and backed into the corner. God, this guy was totally hot. Yet, the one in gray still tries to mouth off.

“Yeah, losers like you end up–”

“Let me tell you something just…so you know in advance. I am not in a good mood today. In fact, I’m feeling a little hostile.” Oh-hoh-hoh shit. Were you blushing? You felt like you were blushing. Who was this guy?

“Woah…” and with that very intelligent comeback, the seniors scurry off. The pompadour nods in approval at the freshman’s computer.

“You’re doing a good job, kid! Keep up the good work,” he nonchalantly pats him on the back and just like that, he’s gone. You walk around one side of the table while Brandon goes around the other, both meeting at the confused, frightened boy.

“Your friend’s pretty cool,” Brandon says, a hint of suspicion in his voice. And totally sexy, but yeah. Cool. Let’s go with that.

“Yeah, no kidding,” You agree.

“I’ve never seen the guy in my life.”

Later, you and Brandon track down the… ahem…alluring mystery guy from earlier, finding him alone sitting on the stairs of the school, book in hand.

“Hey,” Brandon calls out, getting the guy’s attention, “My name’s uh, Brandon Walsh.”

“Brandon Walsh,” the guy repeats, it’s as if he was dissecting it. “Scotch or Irish?”

“Both, actually. By way of Minnesota.”

“What about you?” YOU?? Oh my god he’s talking to you. Words. Mouth. Move lips.

“Y/N. Y/L/N,” You respond. “From…Wisconsin.” You get nothing but silence as he looks at you, practically examining you.

“Listen, what you did to those two nimrods back there was great,” Brandon starts, stepping up a few stairs.

“Yeah, well, I just don’t believe in winning through intimidation,” He looks to Brandon, then to you. “Unless, of course, I’m the doing the intimidating.” He smirks and you feel a nervous giggle crawl up your throat. You couldn’t help but imagine how you looked right now. Blushed cheeks, dilated pupils, arms crossed.

“Are you hungry? I got next period off, all three of us could go grab a bite.” Brandon Walsh, ever the gentleman. The man scoffs, sun in his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s do lunch,” He pauses.

“Don’t see much water in the midwest.”

“Ton of lakes, not a lot of oceans,” You counter, brushing a hair behind your ear.

“My sympathies,” He stands up, striding down the stairs, “Come on!”

“Where we going?” Brandon asks, following him while you’re at his heel.

“Field trip.”

You pull up near the beach, listening to the waves, the birds…everything. Woah. You should’ve seen this sooner.

“I don’t know, Dylan, there’s this editorial we gotta write,” Brandon says, wind blowing in his hair. Man, he was cute. A surfer takes notice of the car.

“Yo, McKay!” A second surfer stands up.

“What’s up, bro?! Get in the green room!” The green room? What the hell was that?

Then, a third surfer, this time a girl, joins. “Come on, Dylan! Let’s catch some waves!”

You watch Brandon as he watches the beach in awe. “Man, I dreamed about this place!”

“Who doesn’t? Welcome to paradise, man. Welcome to your dream come true.” You had a feeling this little crush on the bad boy turned surfer might come back to bite you in the ass later. But hey, what’s the worst that could happen?

Before you know it, all three of you are in the water. Dylan on a surf board, you and Brandon on boogie boards. You’re totally kicking Brandon’s ass, by the way. You’ve only wiped out like, twice. You liked watching him trip back into the water with the giant flippers on his feet. He wasn’t very good, sure, but he was trying. And looking mighty fine while doing it. He watched you, too, as you managed to nail every single wave perfectly. You’re on your next wave as he gets crushed by the last one.

“WIPEOUT!” Dylan yells, causing his surfer bros to yell with him. You end up near Dylan after the wave, watching as the blonde girl helps him up.

“Yo, Minnesota? You all right?!”

“I love this!” He yells back, wet hair falling in his face. You’re wading the water, shaking your head and giggling at his excitement.

Then everything settles down after a while, Brandon and whoever that blonde chick is are sitting in the sand talking, meanwhile you’re swimming and talking with Dylan.

“So, Wisconsin, huh? What’s there?”

“Uh, Cheese, lakes, football, drunks,” You’re only half joking. You listen to the waves washing over the shore. You don’t think you could get tired of this place.

“How’d you end up with Minnesota?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, cocking your head at him in confusion.

“I mean, how’d you end up dating him? Was it his squeaky clean charm?” You let out a laugh.

“Me? And- and Brandon? No. We aren’t…No.” You laugh like that’s the craziest thing you’ve ever heard. He nods, studying you again. Really wish he would quit doing that.

“But you want to be.”

“No! I- Brandon and I…are friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Got it?” You try to please your case with him.

“Then why does he look like he wants to jump your bones half the time?” What?

“…That’s just his face.” This time Dylan laughs.

“Whatever you say,”

That night, you found yourself in the backseat of Dylan’s car again, parked outside of the Walsh’s house. You had to majorly lie to get yourself here, but it’s not like you were doing a B&E. You were just going to hang out…with some friends. Some male friends. Some really hot male friends, sure. But still friends. Brandon interrupts your thoughts, hopping into the front seat.

“So, did we get daddy’s permission?” Dylan asks.

“Nope. We got mom’s,” Brandon shoots a smile towards the both of you. His stupid dumb face and his stupid pretty smile. Ugh. You hate him. You worked on the editorial with Brandon for most of the day, you could handle him at school. Anywhere outside of it though, you get giddy and shy. You hated it.

“So, is this what you call the sunset strip, man?” Brandon asks, as you both stand outside of what looks to be a nightclub, with Dylan’s radio blaring random rock music.

“No, that’s what tourists call it.” The surfer guys from earlier skate up, spinning around.

“Oh, maybe he’ll get hip by graduation,” One jokes.

“I think he’s fine right now,” Sarah says, waltzing up to Brandon, smile on her face. That bitch. Wait. Stop. She’s not a bitch. You know that. Why are you thinking that?

“I bet you do,” one of the guys says. You huff, quietly, but Dylan takes notice.

“What are you two doing here?” Dylan asks, walking up to them and away from his car.

Same thing you are– waiting for something to happen.“

"Yeah, well, it ain’t happening here. Come on.”

“Where you going?” Sarah questions.

“Anywhere but here, you want to come?”

“Yeah, sure Dylan, I’d love to!” She was SO nice. She had done nothing to you. Yet…you felt like you had to throw up anytime she went near Brandon.

“Hey, she goes where we go!” The doofier, brunette one of the two speaks up.

“Isn’t that her decision?” Dylan cocks his eyebrow, keeping the typical coolness in his voice.

“Oh, well, uh, you heard him. Decide!” Oh, Thing 2 speaks up as well. Wonderful. Sarah stays silent for a moment. You can’t believe she gets pushed around by those guys. What dicks.

“We’ll follow you,” She decides.

All 3 of you hop into the car, you in the back, the boys in the front.

“What’s this?” Brandon picks up a thick black book from the center console.

“Ah, a little leisure reading,” Dylan brushes it off.

“Byron– the collected works?”

“Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. That was him and that’s me.” The whole bad boy thing would almost be cheesy if it didn’t work so well. Almost.

“Hey, do your surfer buddies know you ready poetry?” You comment, arm resting on the back of their seats.

“Oh, those bonehead wouldn’t know a poem if it walked up and bit 'em,” He laughs, “Except Betty, she’s cool.” Dammit. She’s so cool.

“She doesn’t think so,”

“She would if those guys didn’t treat her like a doormat. Hell, we all think we deserve something better, but…Betty really does.” You all exchange looks before the meatheads talk again.

“Yo, McKay, where we goin’?”

You pull up to the Bel Age hotel, neon signs and water fountains at the entry way.

Dylan leads you all in, acting as if he’s sneaking you guys in on a mission or something. Clasdical music plays throughout the building. Sarah and Surfer dude #1 goof around by the sculpture they pass, looking through it and making faces. You all simultaneously sit down in the lobby. Brandon parks himself at Dylan’s ear.

“What are we doing here?”

“Visiting friends.” Thanks, that’s not vague at all. You give Dylan a look. “I thought you people from the midwest were supposed to be so sociable,” he jokes. “Come on,” He says, springing up from the couch as his group follows him. You and Brandon are the last to follow him. He huffs, getting up hesitantly.

“You alright?” You ask, watching his anxious demeanor.

“I’m fine…thanks,” He gives you a reassuring smile and you trek down the hallways together. Again with the sneaking. Huh.

“Uh, so, Dylan. These friends of yours know we’re coming?” Brandon urges.

“Of course!” Dylan responds. Yeah, like he’s crazy for asking that. You’re galloping and sneaking the halls like some weird special agents. You all stop at a room and watch as Dylan shakes open the door. “Voila.” Oh. Okay. Maybe you were doing a B&E. Great. He opens it, slowly. Peering around the dark room he adds, “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on!” He looks around the room curiously. “Where do you suppose…ah!” He flicks the lightswitch, “let there be light.” His friends gasp as they see the luxurious room. Paintings, flowers, chandeliers. Furniture that probably costs more than you do.

“Oh, this is so outrageous!” You and Brandon both stay behind, feeling wary about this whole thing.

“Hey, don’t just stand there. Come on in!” Dylan welcomes you like he owns the place.

“Come on, Dylan. Let’s get out of here. Go grab a burger or something,” Brandon practically begs, hushed tone.

“Hey, I got a better idea,” He muses, picking up the landline, “Let’s stay and grab one.”

“Dylan…” You trail off, this was not how you expected your night to go.

He ignores you, calling into room service. “Room service. This is…room 211.”

“Dylan, come on,” Brandon cuts through.

“I’d like six cheeseburgers, please. Medium well,” he turns away from the phone, “Is that all right with you guys?” They give him the go ahead and he continues, “Yeah, six orders of french fries…” and then it all clicks. McKay. The Bel Age hotel. You don’t know how you didn’t realize this sooner.

“Alright, that’s it, I’m out of here.” His voice is tense and frustrated.

“Minnesota, really? You gotta relax.”

“Look, if I relax I’ll do it in my own room! Not somebody else’s!” Brandon rants…he would be right. If it wasn’t Dylan’s place.

“Hey, Brandon, wait.” Sarah stands up, walking over to him.

“For what? To get busted for breaking and entering?” Again, he would totally be right if the circumstances were different.

“It’s just for fun,” Sarah adds.

“Not where I’m from it isn’t,” he states, jaw clenching.

“Come on, Brandon, stay with me.” This girl was really getting on your nerves. I think that might be your cue to leave. Brandon shakes his head, walking out the door.

“I should go too,” You comment, joining your midwestern friend at the door.

“Hey, come on, stay,” Dylan pleads. “You better make that order for four,” he speaks into the phone, chasing after you and Brandon.

“Hey. Minnesota, Wisco, wait up!”

“The name’s Brandon! Brandon Walsh, it’s scotch-irish, remember?” Oh, he was pissed.

“How could I forget?” Dylan tries to calm him down. A cart with dishes of food rolls by.

“Excuse me, when your order’s ready will you be eating up in the terrace or in your suite?” The man pushing the cart turns to Dylan.

“Upstairs is cool, Tony, thanks.” You see everything click for Brandon as Dylan takes a fry from the dish.

“You live here,” He realizes shaking his head.

“Dad’s corporate pad. It’s mine when he’s out of town,” He states nonchalantly.

“And how often is that?” Brandon fumes

Okay. Better to stay silent during this. He has his claws out.

“Often as possible,” He replies, “You see, my parents, they’re not exactly into parenting. But oh- shh! Don’t tell them upstairs, wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.”

“No, no, we wouldn’t want to do that,” He snaps, a defined tightness in his voice. He turns around and starts walking away, and you follow him.

“Well, stick around! Henry downstairs makes the best french fries in town,” Dylan bargains, making Brandon turn back around. “Brandon, Y/N, come on. You wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to ruin the only real thing you’ve got,” He retorts, “You coming, Y/N/N?” You shoot Dylan an apologetic look, and start walking out again.

“Y/N, wait,” Dylan stops you. “You’re really going to let him run you out of here?”

“I’m not letting him do anything, Dylan!” You argued.

“Please, you’re leaving because he’s got you wrapped around his little finger,” he snorts, “Not to mention the entire time you were here you were jealous and crabby.”

You laugh. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Brandon and Betty!” Wow. He’s..totally crazy. Where the hell did he get that from?

“That’s crazy! I’m leaving because I want!”

“Fine, then leave.” He concedes, tone sharp, taking a step closer to you.

“Fine, I will!” You mirror him, stepping closer.

“Fine,” he takes another step.

“Fine!” And so do you.

“Fine.”

When the word leaves your lips you can see him tense up, like he’s restraining himself. You gaze at each other, intensity behind both pairs of eyes. He moves forward, causing you to back off. “I should get going.” And this time, he doesn’t fight it. He just sighs, watching as you run out of the hotel and back to Brandon.

The day comes, and you’re walking down to Secos beach with Brenda at your right and Kelly and Donna at your left, enjoying the breeze and the commotion.

“This is great,” Brenda smiles. You readjust the beach bag in your hands.

“This is bogus. I don’t see a single person that I would want to talk to. Besides, I’m freezing,” Kelly complains.

“Well, you should’ve dressed warmer,” Donna tells her.

“Donna, I didn’t pay a small fortune to look like an eskimo!” Kelly argues.

“Um, I have to go check on my brother, he doesn’t know anyone else here,” Brenda walks down to the beach while you’re all stopped by Steve.

“Hey Kel, Y/N/N,” He greets you, “Warm enough?” You roll your eyes and walk right past him, not letting Steve be the thing that ruins your day.

You sit in the sand with the rest of the girls. Kelly has her arms crossed, shivering from the wind.

“This party is totally beat,” she says.

“Does that mean we’re leaving?” Brenda quips back.

“It means I am,”

“Me too,” Donna agrees. The three of them stand.

“I’ll go find Brandon,” Brenda says, brushing herself off.

“I’ll meet you over there, Bren,” You stand up, making your way over to your new friend over in the ocean, board in hand.

“Wisco, hey,” He sets his surfboard upright in the sand as you walk up to him. “About last night…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wander a little closer.

“It was supposed to be fun. If it wasn’t well, I apologize. But it was supposed to be,” There’s something so genuine, so penitent in his voice.

“I know your intentions were good…misguided, for sure. But…sweet.” The overcast clouds and wind cool your skin as you speak.

“Sweet?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you as you cross your arms.

“You could’ve taken us to a random 5 star hotel instead of your suite. It would’ve upped the thrill factor for you, but we would’ve gotten busted. So you didn’t. Brandon sees it as a way of keeping your reputation in tact and your record clean. I see it as a way of keeping your friends safe but giving them a good time all the same. Call me crazy if I’m reading too far into this, but…” The breeze blows your hair out of your face as you wait for his reply. The wind and the overcast skies leave you chilly.

He looks at his feet, leaning against his board. Sighing, he looks at you like he wants to speak.

“You’re not crazy.”

You give him a gentle smile. “You’re not nearly as mean and brooding as you think you are, Dylan,” your voice is soft as you put your hands in the pockets of your dress. You turn to meander off, but he stops you.

“Do you want to try it again sometime? You know, hanging out?” He asks.

“No B&Es?”

“No B&Es. Not even fake ones.”

You laugh softly, and nod. “I’d like that.” You turn and go off, and he watches you as you leave.

You walk over the Brenda and Brandon’s side of the beach, going to offer them a ride home, since you saw Kelly skidding off with Donna. You expect to see them talking, maybe lounging in the sand. But what you do is Brandon, carrying a soaked, unconscious girl out of the water. Your eyes go wide. What the hell. Is that…Betty? You run over there as fast as you could, the only thing keeping you down the sand beneath your feet.

“Oh my God, is she alright?!” You call out, your heart racing.

Beverly Hills Memorial Hospital.

“So you’re sure she’ll be okay?” Brandon asks, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Thanks to you three,” the doctor says, folding his hands. “Her body temp had already dropped two degrees from exposure.” It felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You may have been a little cold towards her, but you never wanted anything to happen to her.

“Is that normal?” Brenda inquires.

“Depends on what your definition of normal is. It happens all the time to alcoholics.” Oh, no. Everybody tenses up.

“Are you saying she’s an alcoholic?”

“Nobody drinks that much for fun,” the doctor sighs.

“Yooo, West Beverly! It’s that day of the week again, and this is D.J. Mike M.C.! Now listen up, cause this song ain’t dedicated to the one I love, but to the local heroes who busted a rescue move on Secos beach this weekend and saved someone’s life! Way to go, homies!” The DJ’s voice rings through the speakers at West Beverly once again as you stop a familiar face in the hallway.

Hey,“ he smiles.

"Hi,” it’s a comfortable silence as you walk to class together, at least at the moment. His face scrunched up lightly, like he’s deep in thought.

“How do you feel about Dylan?”

“Uh, he’s pretty cool… why?”

“I was just wondering…,” He trails off, “Steve thinks you’re sleeping with him.” Your jaw drops.

“What the hell? Where’d he get that from?”

“Well, you know Steve. If a girl and a guy make eye contact they’re automatically doing it,” Typical Steve, I guess.

“So by Steve Law we’re…” You trail off.

“Married,”

“Oh, yeah, obviously,” you jokingly concur as he puts his arm around you in a casual manner. You walk down the hallway together to your first class.

“Oh, yeah, obviously,” you jokingly concur as he puts his arm around you in a casual manner. You walk down the hallway together to your first class. Yeah, you could get used to this.

@be-patient-be-good @lilo-1988 @mpmarypoppins @fangirl-imagines @bevelyhills90210

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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Movie nights with Dylan Mckay would include...

- Alternating between who picks the movies

- Casablanca again? Really Dylan?

- Cuddling on the couch

- he's the little spoon

- Snacks on snacks on snacks

- throwing some of them at him, to which he feigns annoyance

- but him? Mad at you? Probably impossible

- Watching him instead of the movie

- It's not your fault he's so pretty.

- if he wanted you to pay attention to the movie he shouldn't have such a pretty face.

- Hot chocolate when it's cold

- Milkshakes when it's hot

- Making out if/when the movies get boring

- Catching him staring at you in those moments you're really getting into the movie

- More making out

- Pizza breaks

- Cracking jokes

- Constant commentary

- Him doing goofy impressions of the characters

- and failing, but he's so cute it doesn't even matter

- he actually lets his guard down with you :)

- though if Brandon asks, I'm not sure he'd ever admit to it

- but we all know the truth. He's smitten

- Comfy pajama pants

- Wearing his clothes

- His arm is always around you or on you

- Lowkey and affectionate touches

- Small kisses

- Him playing with your hair

- and whispering comments about the movie in your ear

- Loving being in each other's company

- Feeling safe and loved and at peace

- Trying to fight off sleep 3 movies in

- Sleepy Dylan is a cuddly Dylan

- Every Dylan is a cuddly Dylan

- Falling asleep anyway

- Waking up cuddled up with him

- lying there comfortably for a while

- but also, he's a rock. You couldn't move even if you wanted to

- but you're happy waking up in his arms any day

#dylan mckay imagine #dylan mckay x reader #dylan mckay #luke perry #beverly hills 90210 #beverly hills 90210 x reader #beverly hills 90210 imagine #headcanons #90210 x reader #90210 imagine #90210 #bh90210

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winchester90210 · 6 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x04: The First Time

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous episode here!

Song: With or Without You - U2 Spotify or Youtube

Chapter Summary: Tensions run high when old flames reunite.

Pairing: Brief Reader/Daniel (OMC who’s literally in like a paragraph total.) And what you’ve all been waiting for: the beginning of some Reader/Brandon.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, kissing, alcohol, asshole boyfriend, drunk reader, lots of platonic affection, jealousy, SO. MUCH. DRAMA.

My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word count: 4,500

A/N: This has to be one of my favorites episodes that I’ve written. The drama, the buildup to a romantic relationship, I love it. Tags are at the bottom, shoot me a message if you would like to be added! Next week we’ll be taking on 1x06: Higher Education!

“Where’s the snow, Eric? The leaves? That little nip in the air? Oh, right. Winter doesn’t exist here. There’s no fall, the leaves don’t even turn color! They’re just…brown. And not even a nice autumn brown but like a…gross sickly brown. And the air quality index? What the hell is that? You have to check something every morning to find out if it’s safe to breathe?!” You rant, and throw your hands in the air. There’s an air of playfulness behind your rant. “We’re in the middle of November and there’s a heat wave!”

“Chill out, Y/N/N. At least we’re not knee-deep in snow or coming inside with frostbite every day,” Your brother rolls his eyes as you sit on his egyptian cotton bed.

“But the snow, Eric-” You begin your rant again when you’re cut off by his door swinging open and your mother standing with the white cordless phone in her hand.

“It’s Daniel,” She says. Daniel?? Wisconsin Daniel?? You launch yourself at the phone and bolt into your room, holding the phone clutch at your ear.

“Daniel?” You ask urgently, shutting your white wooden door behind you with a click.

“Hey, sweetheart,” You can’t believe it’s him. He was one of the reasons you were so hellbound on staying in Madison. “Can’t wait to see you on Friday,” You can feel his smirk through the phone as he speaks.

“What?!”

“I’m flying in from Minneapolis on Friday morning,” You could die. Right then and there. Your boyfriend was coming. Well… sort of boyfriend. You broke up before you moved out of Wisconsin, deciding long distance wouldn’t have worked.

“Minneapolis? But Dane Regional flies direct,” You state, lying down onto your bed. You feel the soft pink pillows against your back. There’s a long hesitation.

“I’ll- I’ll explain when I get there, okay? Your parents even agreed to let me stay the weekend,” You grin at that. “It’s time, yeah?” Wait…time for- oh my god.

The next morning, you’re dashing into school with Brandon, until you spot Andrea.

“Hey, Andrea,” He begins, hand on her shoulder getting her attention, “Can you get someone to cover the football game for me against Beverly High on Saturday?”

“I thought you said it was supposed to be one of the biggest games of the year,” She replies.

“Well, it is, but uh something important came up. Right out of the blue, totally unexpected.”

Andrea turns to you, brushing Brandon off for now, “What do you need, Y/N?”

“I need to get out of the school elections report on Friday night,” You say, walking side by side with them.

“Alright… Do you guys have dates or something?” She laughs.

“Old girlfriend from Minneapolis,” Oh. So he does have a date… Cool.

“Oh, why didn’t you just say so? How long were you guys together?” She pries. Who cares? Not you. You don’t care at all. It wasn’t any of your business.

“A year,”

“And then…what happened?” She shrugs, trying to get him to go on. Oh, please don’t.

“We cut each other loose. I don’t believe in long distance relationships,” Makes sense. Valid point. Totally understandable. Good on you, Brandon.

“Oh, same here. My boyfriend’s coming in from Madison.”

“You have a boyfriend?” His head tilts, and they both turn to you.

“Yeah, from… Madison…” You trail off. You’re pretty sure you said that already.

“How long have you guys been together?” Brandon interrogates.

“A years and a half,” you begin, “But he’s not my boyfriend. We decided to be a little more open once I moved, y'know, see other people.” You look at their intrigued gazes. “You guys are really nosey, aren’t you?” You tease.

“I’m a journalist, I’m supposed to be,” Andrea quips before turning down the hall. You catch up with Brenda, Kelly, and Donna down the hall.

“You know what I haven’t been able to figure out ever since I’ve gotten here?” Brenda asks, “How could somebody so gorgeous be an Algebra teacher?” All four of you shift your gazes to the tall muscular man, standing at a classroom’s doorway. “I mean, it’s like he should be a lifeguard or a ski instructor or something!”

“Yeah, he should definitely be working outdoors,” Donna agrees.

“Or indoors,” You joke, raising an eyebrow. You all hush down giggles as the teacher walks over. “I gotta head to the robotics lab, see ya…” You start to walk off. “Good luck, Bren,” you wink.

You fumble with your screwdriver as Dylan holds the contraption still. You didn’t even like robotics, but it was the only thing that would fit into your schedule.

“You alright, Y/N/N? You’ve been a nervous wreck this whole class. What’s going on?” Dylan asks. You pause, setting down your screwdriver with a clank.

“My boyfriend’s coming to visit.” Your voice is completely flat as you speak.

“Boyfriend? What about… you know?” He implies, his hands brushing the metal table.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about it,” You whisper to him. “From Madison. Did I not tell you about him?” Your voice returns to normal volume, as to not raise suspicion.

“No, you didn’t.” He states, both of you maintaining intense eye contact as he looks down at you. “Well, he’s like, totally sexy, and SO smart… he like, reads and everything!” You joke, getting Dylan to break away from his intense gaze with a laugh. “He’s really cool, though. He’s sweet, totally gorgeous, loves old movies, classic books,” You really are excited to see him again. You smile fondly.

“Sounds pretentious…” You hear Brandon mumble. “My girlfriend is visiting too, she’s great.” He speaks up, rising from his chair across the room. Oh boy. Here we go again.

“See, the great thing about Sheryl is that not only is she beautiful, but she’s got this incredible personality. I haven’t met many girls out here yet that could even compare to her,” He strides over to you and Dylan, bringing his robotic parts and adjusting the wires. Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. Please. You have the biggest urge to start banging your head against the table as you avoid both of their gazes. Dylan looks to you, and then looks at him.

“Brandon, I think your memory’s playing tricks on you. We have some major lookers at this school,” You could swear his eyes drift to you again, but you brush it off as you silently work on your part of the robot.

“Nah, but she’s more…real.” Yeah, sure. Whatever.

“Give me a break. She sleeps with you, of course you think she’s special,” Dylan jeers. Your hands tense, you set everything down.

“I didn’t say that!” Brandon argues.

“You mean she doesn’t sleep with you? Does she at least like, read” You suppress a laugh at him, rolling your eyes.

After class, you meet up with Dylan at the end of the hall. He stops you, putting his hands on your shoulders briefly.

“You should bring this guy around the Bel Age, I want to meet him,” He wiggles his eyebrows. What was he up to?

“I’ll think about it,” You respond, eyeing him up.

Your parents were out for the night, so it was just you, Daniel, and Eric.

You grab Daniel’s hand, leading him up the steps. Shame on your parents for leaving you alone, tsk tsk.

“It’s really good to see you again,” you smile and he gives you a chaste kiss.

“I really missed you,” He plays with the hem of your shirt.

Wait. Now? Yeah, okay.

You kiss him deeply as he leads you backwards onto your bed, his hands around your waist. He begins unbuttoning your shirt but stalls, pulling himself off of you hastily.

“About Minneapolis…” He begins. Really? Now? This is when he wants to do this? “My folks and I moved there not long after you moved down here.” You sense something taut in his voice.

“I… met a girl there.” Oh.

“You met a girl…” You repeat it back, nodding as the gears in your brain working to process this. A girl. Okay. You can deal with that. Girls are great.

“And…we kinda hit it off.” Oh. Cool. Wonderful. Perfect. You slowly move off of your bed, eyes slightly wide, jaw agape. You knew the words were coming but they hit you swiftly, like a punch in the gut.

“And…and that’s it. Right? You guys are great buddies? Friends?” A bottomless pit grew inside you as your eyes welled up. You felt like the ground was about to swallow you up, or at least you wanted it to.

“I had sex with her.” There’s the kicker. “Her name’s Sheryl, you’d really like her! I swear.” Was he really trying to give a sales pitch?? What the fuck. Brushing off how dumb your boyfriend was being and how awful you felt, you were more intrigued by something else.

“With a C or an S?” You button up your shirt, the bottomless pit becoming more of a…garbage fire. Your voice is cold and hard.

“Wh- An S, why?” Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. You were going to be sick.

Everyone was in bed, Daniel was sleeping in one of four guest rooms, and you were staring at your ceiling. Do you tell Brandon? Do you let him carry on being grossly in love with her? Or do you tell him the truth, ultimately destroying him?

You grab the landline on your nightstand and dial his number, and then you check the clock. Midnight. Shit.

You hear him pick up, “Hello?”

“Don’t sleep with her.”

“What?”

“Trust me. Just…don’t,” You hang up abruptly. That might have been a huge mistake.

You sit at the restaurant connected to the Bel Age as you wait for Dylan, Brandon, and that other chick to get here. Daniel hasn’t said a word to you the entire time, and vice versa.

“Hey, Y/N/N,”

“Dylan,” You greet him. Sheryl and Brandon trail not far behind him.

“Y/N,” Brandon greets, a hard glaze to his voice.

“Brandon,” You match his tone.

“Sheryl?”

“Daniel?!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Brandon asks, eyebrows knitted together.

“We met at the airport!” Sheryl exclaims, a phony smile on her face. “So good to see you again!”

“Yeah…”

Brandon looks at you, then Sheryl, then Daniel.

“I’m going to the washroom. Something movie stars do, by the way,” he says, looking to Sheryl.

“I’ve gotta wash up too,” You join him.

“And I’ll help,” Daniel says. Brandon walks off to the bathroom while Daniel pulls you aside.

“Did you plan this?” He accuses, arms folded and brown hair disheveled after he runs his hands through it.

“I had no idea!” You argue, stopping in your tracks.

“Yeah, right. You’re being a major bitch, you know that?” He sneers, a low tone and a tightness in his voice. You shake your head, arms crossed. Where the hell did this come from?

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” you dismiss. He grabs your arm, and you flinch, surprised.

“Hey, back off, man!” A voice comes from behind you, and he immediately releases your arm.

“Dylam, it’s fine. I can handle it.”

“Go sit down, Y/N/N,” Dylan warns. You hesitantly sit at the table and watch as they talk. But unfortunately, they’re too far away for you to hear.

“If you put another hand on her again, you won’t be making it back to Wisconsin, buddy.” He threatens, furrowed eyebrows. Both men storm back to the table, tension in the air.

“Oh, Dylan told me how he knows how to get us into this great club tonight,” Sheryl fawns.

“Great,” Brandon gives a lackluster smile.

Dylan pulls up his Porsche into the Walsh’s driveway as the engine hums. Brandon and Brenda plus Sheryl run out of the house. Sheryl stops dead in her tracks as she sees the speedster. You hop out of the passengers seat and walk onto the drive way, the heels of your shoes clicking.

“What a cool car!”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” He dismisses

“Can I get in?” She enthuses.

“Come on, Sheryl, we’ve gotta drop Brenda off,” Brandon calls out, sister at his side.

“Mind if I ride with Dylan?”

Brandon hesitates. “Sure, if that’s what you want.” What’s with her?

“I mean, when am I ever gonna get a chance to ride in a Porsche again?”

“Actually, Sheryl, Y/N was going to-” Dylan begins.

“I was just about to hop into Brandon’s car anyway,” You cut him off.

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s alright with Brandon,” You add.

“Yeah, it’s alright with me,” He nods.

“Brandon, could you possibly move a little slower?” Brenda pipes in, sarcasm lacing her tongue.

Brandon watches as Sheryl and Dylan drive off, an exasperated look on his face.

“Is it just me or is Sheryl acting a little weird today?” Brandon puts the car in park, his voice low.

“I don’t know. She seems the same to me… I thought you guys were having a good time?” Brenda replies.

“We are, we are. It’s just… she’s so into this whole Beverly Hills thing– The houses, the stores, the cars.”

“You mean like Dylan’s car?” You lean up from the backseat. How did you get stuck with the backseat again?

“Yeah. Kind of…” He sighs, “Didn’t she seem a little too enthusiastic about getting a ride from him tonight?”

“Well, take a look at the option,” Brenda smirks.

“Obviously she doesn’t like me for my car. Dylan didn’t seem too unhappy about the idea either,”

“Brandon, he’s your friend. Our friend. He wouldn’t hit on your girlfriend,” You try to ease his mind.

“I guess you’re right…but they’re just acting a little weird, that’s all,” He says. Brenda hops out of the car as soon as he stops, racing over to the front door.

It’s dead silent on the way to the club, your thoughts are churning out faster than you could process. You had so much you wanted to tell him, but nothing felt right. So, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“What?” Nice going, Y/N/N.

“…Did you sleep with her?” Can’t back out now, I guess.

“No… I didn’t. Your call really freaked me out last night, what was that even about, anyway?”

“Just trust me, okay?” You huff, “You having a virginity pact with Sheryl or whatever it was…wasn’t a good idea.”

“Look, it’s none of your business, alright?!”

“It’s my business when she’s sleeping with my boyfriend!”

His face drops and he falls silent, grip going lax on the steering wheel. You peek at his face, guilt suddenly dipping you apart. He laughs sourly, head shaking.

“I should’ve known.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“I knew that guy was no good. He treats you like garbage, he sleeps with you, he sleeps with Sheryl. Is nothing off limits to him?”

You don’t answer, deciding it’s best to let him simmer down. Besides, you were almost to the club and didn’t want to feel any worse than you did right now.

Boy, this was sure to be fun, huh?

You and Brandon march out of the car and over to the entrance of Contact, crowds of arguing people lined up at the front. You watch as Brandon goes to the other side of the rope, simply stepping over it. The guard goes to reprimand him, but starts to lose control of the line. You hop over the rope yourself when Brandon grabs your hand, racing both of you into the club. It’s a total sensory overload– Loud pop music, flashing lights, people drinking and dancing.

But you spot two people in the middle of the crowd. The girl’s arms around the guy’s neck as they sway to the pumping pop. You were going to kill Dylan… if Brandon didn’t get to him first. He bolts down the stairs, making his way over to his friends. You follow him hoping to stop him before he gets to them, but it’s too late as he speaks to Dylan with a loud, sharp “Hey.”

Well… that’s your cue to leave. You can’t stand to be in the middle of the Brandon/Dylan throwdown right now. You just need a drink. You’ll go over there if things turn bad. Ordering a few shots of whatever Patron was, you turn your back to the bar– looking to see any signs of a brawl, a murder, anything that could signal that things went south. The bartender hands you your shot glasses and you throw them back, a sharp burning in your throat. What you didn’t expect tonight was for alcohol to be so majorly disgusting. Wow. You’re never doing that again.

You watch the crowd groan and pause, while Sheryl runs out. Pushing your way into the dance floor you spot Dylan on the ground holding his face. Okay, maybe Brandon was the asshole tonight. Dylan rises to his feet, grabbing B by the shirt.

“You better figure out who your friends are,” He spits out. You bulldoze your way closer as Dylan pushes him away. Brandon storms over to Sheryl.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” You call out.

“What’s the matter with me? I think you’re talking to the wrong guy here, Y/N/N,” He replies, tone bitter.

“Why couldn’t you just leave Sheryl alone?! You could probably date any girl in school and you chose the one dating your best friend?!”

“I didn’t choose anything! She hit on me!”

“You weren’t exactly pushing her away!”

“Look… I don’t know what your problem is, but I have no interest in Brandon’s girlfriend!”

“My problem?! My problem–” You cut yourself off, take a deep breath and begin again, putting your hand up in front of yourself, “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Y/N–”

You do a 180, ignoring him, walking over to the bar where your livid crush stands. You step next to him, hand resting on the bar in front of him.

“Brandon, get it together. Do you think I’m super happy about Sheryl and Daniel? Do you think I’m thrilled she’s managed to hit on every guy I know? No. But I’m not over there punching Dylan, or Sheryl, or anyone for that matter because things happen! Things that are out of my control. Dealing with these things is our only option if we expect to make it out of this alive,”

You take a breath, “I’m majorly bummed, my love life is a mess, and my boyfriend is on a flight back to Minneapolis. But you know what? I’m going to deal with it. And so are you. We’re going to take our issues head on, because we have no other choice. So you’re going to go talk things out with Sheryl, and I’m going to try to find a drink that doesn’t taste like vomit.”

“Y/N, I don’t think–”

“No, Walsh. Go. Talk,” You demand. Man, you’re bossy when you drink. You kinda like it.

You lock eyes and his gaze softens.

“Fine,” He sighs, “You’re right, I should to go talk to her.”

“I know I am,” You tease. “Now, go, before it’s too late.” He gently taps your hand that’s resting on the bar and kisses your head before walking off.

You sigh, beckoning the bartender over to order a fruity cocktail.

🎵

You’re lying down on a cold wooden bench outside of the Bel Age, your head spinning and your heart… confused. You meant to go up to Dylan’s room 20 minutes ago, before the insane dizziness kicked in and you had to sit down. Maybe 3 drinks was too much.

You slowly stand up, keeping your balance by holding onto the seat before you start to hobble into the hotel.

Stumbling over to room 201, you knock on the door. Again, and again, and again. You sit against the wall, giving up, You couldn’t go home like this. You’d be grounded for life. But you couldn’t leave, either. You spent all the cash in your purse on the taxi there. You sigh, exasperatedly. Clearly, this was the worst day of your entire life. Or at least you thought so at the moment. You hang your head, sitting there– weepy, inebriated, and alone. Until a voice comes from down the hall.

“What the hell are you doin’, Y/N/N?” Dylan saunters over, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“You weren’t home,” you arm slings up, pointing to the door behind you. He slowly sits down next to you, resting his arms onto his knees.

“I live in 211…You’re at 201,”

You groan lightly, letting the back of your head hit the wall. He could smell the alcohol on you from a mile away. He looks at your glazed-over eyes and exhales.

“Brandon and Sheryl are in my room, talking. I don’t know what you said to him… but it worked,”

“Great,” you sigh. “Her being here as been so fun, can’t wait to see what’s next.” Dylan could sense the beginning of your drunk ramblings. “You know, when I told my friends I was moving they just…dropped me. Without a second thought. I didn’t have anyone… but I had Daniel,” He watches you carefully. “He was my constant… and then Sheryl gets here. Now I don’t have Daniel… or Brandon. I probably won’t even have you pretty soon and it’s–” you feel your eyes start to tear up, “it’s… scaring me a little, I guess.”

“You have me,” He’s soft when he speaks, yet stern, demanding. He looks at you, studying your features while you look at your feet. “And if you knew the things I knew, you’d know Brandon’s not going anywhere either… but you’ll always have me.”

“You don’t know that,”

“I do know that,”

“No, Dylan… You don’t,”

“Come on, just trust me here, okay?”

You sigh, pausing. “I should go home.” He brushes a loose hair behind your ear delicately.

“Stay… get some ice cream, hang out. Free room service,”

“Yeah, because last time I stayed here it went so well,” you bite back, half-joking.

“You can’t go home wasted, Y/N/N,” He shifts onto his feet, “Come on.” He holds out a hand, looking as deep into your eyes as you’ll let him. You sigh, grab it, and pull yourself up. Except, when you get up you trip over your feet and fall directly into Dylan. You mumble an apology as he catches you, one hand on your hip, the other on your back.

You look up at him when he looks down, noses bumping together. You stand like that for a moment, (mostly because you’re worried you can’t keep yourself up, to be honest.) You feel his breath, his hands. You can’t bring yourself to move, and neither can he. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was him but whatever it was was making your head spin.

The sound of an opening door spooks you and you break away as if you had been caught committing a crime, or doing something you knew you weren’t supposed to be.

“Yo Dylan!” Footsteps approach you both. “I’m gonna order in some ice cream, you should join.” You stepped behind Dylan, trying to avoid Brandon seeing you in your inebriated state.

“Be right in,” He nods. You hear the door click shut, and you sigh. He places a reassuring hand on your back, “You should come, sober up.”

You sigh in defeat, you knew one way or another you were going to end up in that hotel room.

“Yeah… alright,”

🎵

Three bowls. Three bowls of mint chip ice cream. Three bowls, copious bottles of water shoved down your throat by both Brandon and Dylan, and a little bit of healing along side it. Sheryl had left during bowl two, so now you’re laying down on the couch, your feet on Brandon’s lap. Dylan’s curled up in the rocking chair, all three of you overfed but feeling alright given the chaotic night.

“I really gotta motor,” You sit up, “I told my parents I’d be back by midnight.”

“I’ll drive you, there might not be many cabs this late,” Brandon offers.

“Alright.. I’ll meet you out front, Bran. I’m gonna talk to Dylan first, okay?” He gives you a soft “Alright,” before placing a kiss to your head and walking out.

“Thanks for… everything tonight. I really needed it,” You walk over to his chair and he stands up, meeting you at eye level.

“Hey, anytime. If you ever need a place to get sobered up again, you have me.”

You pull him into a long, comfortable, sleepy hug.

It’s a silent but peaceful ride home, both of you wading in the aftermath of the night. You place your hand down on the center console, your other hand brushing through your hair as you listen to the crickets outside. Brandon wordlessly sets his hand on top of yours, thumb rubbing the backside of your hand delicately, tenderly.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence for the first time that night. “I’m sorry about Daniel,” His face is lit up by the moonlight and the occasional streetlight. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you these past few days.” He’s got a glint in his eye, sweet with a little bit of sorry. He looked at you like he looked at no one else. Sheryl saw it, Daniel saw it. Dylan saw it, too. Brandon had no idea he was doing it, and you? You were too busy avoiding his gaze, worried that you would get caught staring at him when he wasn’t looking.

“I get it, things have been pretty crazy with Sheryl and Daniel here…”

“Look, I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want you to think I’m leaving you out in the cold whenever Sheryl comes around,”

He slows down to your street, and you’re not sure what exactly clicks in your mind.. but something snaps.

Pulling into your driveway, he turns his head to look at you, about to continue his monologue. But you decide to be bold– and cut him off, crashing your lips against his in a brief, nervewracking kiss, heart leaping out of your chest. You break away momentarily, until he kisses you again. His hand reaches behind your jaw, pushing you as close to him as you can get. It’s a deep, long, passionate kiss, enough to leave both of you breathless afterwards. Something about kissing him felt so right, like you’ve done it a thousand times before when it reality you’ve only ever thought about it. When it ends, you rest your foreheads on each other’s, the two of you quietly panting, giddy smiles to match.

“Goodnight, Brandon,”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” a quick kiss to the forehead is given to you before you hop out of Mondale and over to your house to settle in for the night.

It’s about 11 in the morning, and you’re walking up to the backyard of the Walsh’s, as Brandon promised tons and tons of food on account of his mom going to the farmers market the day earlier and y'know, maybe you could hang out or something. Brenda and Cindy redirected you to the backyard, letting you see Brandon one more time before you gauged yourself with so much California produce you exploded. You stepped into the yard, seeing Brandon out back with Jim. You approach as Jim gives a classic midwestern family lecture.

“…My father told me that someday I’d meet a girl who’d break my heart and then I’d meet one who wouldn’t. I told him he was crazy cause I’d never let a girl do that to me… but it happened. Twice, maybe three times. And then I met your mom,”

“Dad, Sheryl didn’t break my heart,” Brandon’s back is to you as he responds.

“The point is, that you’re not gonna know who the heartbreaker is and who the special one is right off the bat. It’s all gonna take time,” Jim bounces the basketball a few times before handing it to his son. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Mr. Walsh,” You reach them, giving a friendly smile. There’s a noticeable shift in the air when Brandon sees you.

“I’ll give you guys some time alone,” He mumbles, jogging back into the house without another word.

“Hi,” He smiles, bashfully.

“Hi.”

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @lilo-1988

#beverly hills 90210 #BH90210 #brandon walsh #brandon walsh imagine #brandon walsh x reader #jason priestley #jason priestley imagine #jason priestley x reader #90210 #90210 x reader #90210 imagine #Dylan mckay #luke Perry #Dylan mckay x reader #luke perry x reader #Dylan mckay imagine #shannen Doherty #brenda walsh

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winchester90210 · 5 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x20: Spring Training.

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Alongside Brandon, you take a dive into the world of little league.

Word count: 2,000

Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of violence. Also... I know nothing about baseball.

A/N: Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this week’s episode! Took an extra week off to focus on my mental health and am feeling much better with everything now. I hope you guys are as excited as the next chapter as I am! It’s almost time for the spring dance :)

My work is to not be reposted/republished, and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is great and encouraged!!)

Feedback is very appreciated and encouraged!! :)

"With my dad laid up, we need all the help we can get. We’re practicing today if either of you want to join in on the festivities," Brandon persuades the two of you as you round the corner of the Peach Pit to sit at your usual booth. The familiar scent of pie crust and burgers fills the air, instantly putting your soul at ease.

"Thanks… but no thanks, slim," Dylan rejects him, sliding into the seat opposite of you while Brandon follows suit.

"Dylan, I thought you were a total baseball freak!" You tell him.

"I am, but listening to these parents berate their kids from the sidelines all day long," he shakes his head, cringing, "Brings back a whole slew of bad memories."

"But it shouldn't be about the parents!" Brandon protests, "It should be about being on a team, learning fundamentals, having a good time!"

"That's very noble, Brandon. But when I was playing? It was about winning at any cost necessary.” Dylan argues. Brandon sighs in defeat, looking to you.

"What about you, Y/N/N?"

"Not a chance,” you laugh.

"What? Why not?"

"Brandon… me and 20 kids, in an extremely competitive state? Did you learn nothing from the summer of '85?" You jest. Brandon chuckles at your extreme rejection, sliding a laminated menu your way.

"Wait… what happened in '85?" Dylan's eyes flicker cluelessly between the two of you, awaiting an explanation.

"Look, it was no big deal. Things got a little heated during one of Eric's little league games," you shrug dismissively, flipping through the Peach Pit's menu as if you didn't get the same thing every time.

"She beat up a nine-year-old,” Brandon quips.

“I didn’t beat up a—“ you pause, taking in a breath. “To put it simply I… put a kid back in his rightful place. He was picking on my brother, nothing happened that he didn't deserve."

“What’d you do, tackle him out on the field?” Dylan lifts his eyebrows, amused smile on his face.

“No, of course not!” You duck your head back into your menu, mumbling, “I went out there and hit him in the groin with his bat.”

The kids run out into the field, taking their positions with their needed equipment in hand. You lean back onto the warm metal fence, slipping a pair of sunglasses over your eyes to get a better look at Nat’s team. Without the glaring sun in your eyes.

“This is pathetic!” A young boy, adorned in a bright yellow Dukes uniform comes hurdling out from behind the fence to join Brandon and Steve. “They’re not even wearing uniforms!”

“So what?” Brandon shrugs, voice hardened, “It’s a practice game.” Steve leans into Brandon to whisper something to him, but since he lacks the levels of common decency that most people acquire by the age of five, he talks loud enough for the whole team to hear.

“They don’t look so good, Brandon.”

“It’s okay. They came to play, that’s the important thing.” Man… sometimes Brandon felt too good to be true. You’re convinced there has to be a catch at this point. Gorgeous, smart, great with kids. What’s next? He opens up an animal sanctuary for underprivileged strays? Buys a soup kitchen? “Listen up, you guys. The way you treat your competition is a direct comment on how you play the game. Good sportsmanship counts big time with me and my old man…” as he continues to ramble on, your thoughts begin to shift elsewhere. Like how good he looks. It’s purely criminal for anyone to look so hot in yellow. It’s an inherently unattractive color. Yet, there he is—coaching children in the blazing heat, instilling them with good sportsmanship, and all you want to do is to get him to yourself. That bastard. You shake it off, chalking it up to teenage hormones, and try to focus on the game.

“Hey doofus! You really eat toads!” The same kid whining about uniforms earlier is now directing all of his pent up privilege and ten-year-old angst towards the poor, sweet, small child from Nat's team, the Pitts, further solidifying your desire to never procreate.

“You’ll throw it better next time, Manny!” Nat encourages the little boy wholeheartedly, clapping for him as loudly as he can.

“Hey Corey! Throw it to the doofus, he’s a real toad!” Does this kid only know two insults? The smaller brunette, the less athletically gifted child hangs his head, kicking sand around the base plate in frustration. Brandon takes note of it, immediately bounding out into the middle of the game.

“Time out! Crawford, get in the game for Noah!” His voice is stern, and as he approaches the boy he’s in total coach mode. It’s kinda hot... Well, it’s not your fault baseball’s boring. Gotta keep yourself entertained somehow.

Steve stops Randy Crawford from going out from the fence with the back of his hand, and going after Brandon himself, sand slipping from under his shoes. You can’t hear what they're saying but you know it’s not the happiest conversation. Knowing them, you know exactly how this is playing out. You don’t even need to hear them. You can see Steve furrow his brows from the sidelines, and Brandon’s gesticulating with his hands wildly as they talk but can’t make out any words that are flying from their mouths. Brandon, the moral center of Los Angeles wants Noah out for being a little jerk. Steve, being Steve, would probably rather keep the better player in than save the self esteem of a little boy before it’s too late and it no longer exists. It’s not long until Brandon pats Steve hard on the shoulder, storming off the field in a blur of sand and sweat.

Well, that’s your cue to leave, isn't it? You go to follow Brandon out, but Steve stops you short.

“That boyfriend of yours is a total Boy Scout,” he spits.

“Well, someone’s gotta be," You scoff, eyes rolling, ”They’re just kids, Steve! This isn’t Major League Baseball. There’s no trophy, there’s no prize. There’s absolutely nothing at stake here. What they need to be doing is having fun, and while that snot-nosed little jerk is out there on the field, they’re all gonna be miserable.”

You flop down onto Dylan's couch, feet up on the armrest as he grabs a soda from the fridge and parks himself on the ottoman beside you. You exhale, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Rough day out with the little leaguers?"

"Rough day out with Steve," you snort. “I’m so used to being around Brandon I forget that people like Steve Sanders even exist.”

“Come on, Steve isn't that bad."

"Dylan, you're talking about the guy that got carjacked by a girl he was trying to hook up with, and still bailed her out of jail--despite the fact she robbed him justminutes before--in the hopes of getting laid, only for her to steal his wallet." Dylan's face screws in a mix of amusement and total disbelief.

"Okay, so he's that bad," Dylan laughs. "Sorry to break it to you, Y/N/N, but not everyone is a part of the illustrious Walsh family."

"Not everyone can be," you tease. He gently tosses you a throw pillow from the chair across the room, and you use it to prop up your head. "It’s a tragedy.”

“See, what did I tell you? Isn’t he sweet? Isn’t he great?” Brenda watches as you comb through the stray dog’s long gray fur. He really is cute… wet black nose, shaggy gray hair, big puppy dog eyes. But you can’t keep him. “I think he likes you!”

“Bren, as much as I’d love to take this puppy home, my parents would kill me!"

“Just take him for a trial run, and if you like him, keep him!”

“Bren—“

“Please?”

“Bren—“

“Come on!” She pleads.

“Fine! Okay, okay. I’ll see if we can take him in tomorrow night,” you concede, giving the dog one last pat on the head. Brenda squeals happily, a grin on her face as she wraps her arms around you.

“He’s great! You’ll love him!”

"Fine. See you later... Wally."

The four of you watch silently, perched up at the counter of the Peach Pit as Nat's baseball team chows down on slices of pepperoni pizza. We've got Nat to your far left, wondering how the hell they're going to survive against the team from Beverly Hills, then we've got Dylan to your left debating on whether to finally help Nat and shack up with the struggling team, Brandon to your right who hasn't lifted his hand from your upper thigh this whole time which is seriously distracting, and you, wondering how such little boys could devour so much pizza in so little time.

"You know the improvement from one week to the next is remarkable." You mumble.

"Oh yeah… the kids are showing a lot of promise." Brandon nods absentmindedly, bringing his cup to his lips.

"But…" Dylan begins, "you still need a pitcher that can put the ball over the plate."

"Yeah," Nat sighs, "but win or lose, the most important thing is how good the kids feel about themselves." He's trying to convince you, but the more he talks the more you know he's trying to convince himself.

"Absolutely." You agree.

"Totally." Brandon nods.

"Yeah, I mean, in the long run that's all that counts," Dylan shrugs, his voice coated with scepticism.

"Absolutely." Brandon concurs.

"Totally…” You say. “Y’know, I was talking to Andrea about this and she knows a pretty great player from the valley."

They all turn their heads, slowly, with Nat glancing from you to the phone. You roll your eyes at the boys, making your way over to the payphone. The group watches with bated breath behind you as you slip in the quarters and dial her number, waiting for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Andrea, hi! Listen, uh, do you remember the other day? You told me you knew some kid in the valley who was a major blue-chip little leaguer?"

"Oh, yeah! Avery?"

"Yeah… Avery." You twist your head back, giving them a smile and a thumbs up.

"What's Dylan doing? Bringing in a ringer?" Steve scoffs, twisting the metal bat in his hand as he cleans it. You exchange knowing smirks with Brandon as Dylan helps Avery get ready on the sidelines. She takes off her ball cap, releasing the foot of long brunette pony-tailed hair. Gasps are heard from center field, seemingly originating from Noah. Shocker.

"Oh my god! Dude, it's a girl!" He laughs out, adjusting his cap against the wind.

"Poor Dylan, he's really scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?" Oh, if only you and that misogynistic head of yours knew, Steve-O. And surprise, surprise—Every pitch she's involved in ends up in a home run for the Pitts.

And little by little, much to your joy, Steve is getting progressively more aggravated— tapping feet, flaring nostrils, bugged-out eyes. You’re beginning to like baseball.

Eventually you make your way over to Brenda, off by the sidelines. You watch as they send Davey from the Dukes out, and Manny, the small, athletically challenged boy from the Pitts, isn’t far behind. Brandon perks up, calling a timeout to give what you can only assume is another one of his infamous Brandon talks to his team. After a moment the team breaks up, moving into their correct positions and as Manny chokes up on his bat ready to pitch. You cringe, hiding your face in your hand.

But it's nothing short of a miracle as Davey throws the ball. It makes contact with Manny's bat, soaring across the field as he jets off across the bases. The catcher from the Dukes runs for the ball, tripping over his own foot and skidding across the grass. The whole team erupts into ecstatic cheers, rushing out and lifting Manny onto their shoulders. You know that Davey blew the pitch for him, you’ve seen him pitch a hundred times. But seeing the joy on that little boy's face, you knew that it didn't matter.

"Poor kid," Brenda sighs, looking out to the opposite direction to Randy Crawford, the catcher that landed face-first into the grass. "I mean, he really gave it his best-- Wally!"

"Wally? Bren, what're you-- oh my god! That is Wally!" Off in the distance, you can see the gray ball of hair hurdling towards the baseball diamond.

"That's not Wally! That's Rupert! It's my dog, he's back!" Randy gasps, watching in amazement as his shaggy mutt runs across the crowds and into his open arms.

"Hey uh," Brandon comes to greet you, but is looking out into the field as well, "isn't that supposed to be your dog, Y/N/N?"

"No, Brandon," Brenda shakes her head, light smile lacing her lips. "I guess that's Randy's dog…" You sigh, but seeing the little boy giggle with glee as Wally-- er, Rupert, laps at his cheek, there's no troubling emotions to be found.

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N," Brandon laces his fingers with yours, grabbing your attention with a soft kiss to your temple.

"I'm not," you assure him. You smile, the sight of the boy reuniting with his long lost dog something straight out of a movie scene. One last look and you turn away from the boy, eyes meeting your boyfriend’s. “Hey, Brandon... have a date for that dance yet?”

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou @isthatabutterfly @rosy-pugs @thewalshess

#beverly hills 90210 #bh90210 #90210 #brandon walsh x reader #jason priestley x reader #beverly hills 90210 imagine #90210 imagine #brandon walsh #jason priestley #steve sanders #ian ziering #gif is mine #dylan mckay #luke perry #90s fanfiction #90s x reader

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winchester90210 · 5 years ago

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x15: Palm Springs (AKA A Fling in Palm Springs)

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The gang heads to Palm Springs for President’s day weekend.

Warnings: swearing probably, lots of fluffy feelings, mentions of sex.

Words: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!!)

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this week’s episode! We are going to be skipping the next one but Laverne the gum-chomping waitress WILL make an appearance at some point in the series, so don’t worry. Next week the reader moves out with Brenda and deals with Class President election!

“You’re really gonna stay and work all weekend?” You launch yourself backwards onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble against your legs, “Kelly says anybody who’s anybody goes to Palm Springs.”

“You’re talking to Kelly again?” Your brother cocks an eyebrow at you as he cuts himself a brownie, stuffing half of it into his mouth.

“Well, no… Kelly told Brenda who told me— but what does it matter?” You steal the brownie pan from his other hand, and place it out of his reach, “Just because it’s from a secondary source doesn’t mean it’s not true. It’s a ritual. Like the geese flying south or something.”

“How do you expect to get there? It’s not like you have a car, or a bike, or can afford a plane ticket.” You stay silent for a moment, then give him a pleading, rosy smile. “Oh, no. No! You’re not taking Duke to Palm Springs.” Duke was Eric’s beloved cherry red ‘48 Ferrari. It was given to him on his eighteenth birthday, previously loved and adored by your father, and his father before that and blah blah blah.

“Please? I always take good care of it!” You beg, “I’ll even fill up the tank when I get back! What is it, a dollar per gallon?”

“Sorry. No way. You’ll have to ask Brenda,” he shrugs stubbornly, reaching around you and swiping the pan while you're preoccupied with the argument.

“I can’t! She’s riding with Kelly!”

“Then ask Brandon— look, this isn’t my problem, Y/N/N. Either find another ride or don’t go.”

“It has the original interior, the original grille work. It’s gorgeous,” Brandon enthuses, slipping his hand under your shirt and to your sides as you both lie in the backseat of Mondale, mid make-out session. Well, you were making out. Until he decided to stop it to talk about that car he wanted. Like guys often do. “and it’s only twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“Twenty-five thousand? Brandon! No wonder your dad won’t buy you that thing. Dads are cheapskates, It’s just a fact of life.”

“Dylan‘s dad bought him a Porsche.”

“Babe, Dylan’s dad is facing a grand jury indictment,” you stifle a giggle as you pop a button off of his shirt.

“But my dad knows how hard I work,” Brandon grumbles, “And to top it all off, last night Nat told me that I can’t go to Palm Springs this weekend with you, and all of my friends because his sister is sick and now I have to work all weekend. But hey, you don’t hear me complaining, do ya?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“Hey there!” You’re greeted almost immediately by Brandon upon entering the Peach Pit, who’s over at the far end of the counter with a little blond boy. “What a nice surprise. I thought you’d be in packing mode for your trip… but knowing you, you packed early, didn’t you?”

“Always do,” you nod, taking the seat in front of him. You hand Brandon a modest wad of cash and kiss his cheek, making him smile. He mumbles a thanks as he stuffs it into his pocket and hands you a menu.

“Hey… do you ever get the feeling that the entire world is flying in first class, and you’re stuck with a folding chair in the baggage compartment?” He takes your hand in his, leaning over the counter.

“Never,” you deadpan. He studies your face, causing you to giggle into his shoulder.

“Liar!” He laughs genuinely, his eyes crinkling at the edges,“you total liar!” He straightens himself out, “This is Curtis.” He gestures to the adorable little boy beside you, “the hangout king of Beverly Hills.”

“It’s a free country, I can hang out if I want!” The little boy whines.

“Hey, hey, relax, sport. No one said you couldn’t… but does your mom know how much time you spend here?”

“She’s the one that brung me! I told her the food’s not that good," Curtis criticizes, mowing down a plate of greasy french fries.

“See what I have to put up with to make a buck?” Brandon teases, grabbing a plate of food from the kitchen and dashing off to deliver it to a table. Once he’s gone, Curtis turns his stool to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh! Well, uh… no. But he’s… not not my boyfriend,” you waffle. Curtis narrows his eyes, confused. “Look, it’s complicated, kid."

“You give him that friendship bracelet he’s wearing?”

“Yeah, actually… he told you about that?”

The kid dodges your question, chewing on the straw of his drink, “Why aren’t you wearing one?”

“It's a long story, Curtis. Certainly one you don't have time for, okay?"

"I got plenty of time."

You couldn’t ride with your brother, you couldn’t ride with Brandon, there’s no way in hell you’re riding with Steve… that left one option. Brenda, Kelly, and Donna.

“Donna,” Kelly giggles, “we’re not going to Europe. You don’t need three bags!”

“Kelly, I have to dress according to the guys we meet. I mean— high school guys, college guys, grad school guys, dropout guys— you cannot dress the same for all guys. No,” Donna shakes her head disapprovingly, like she just dropped a fashion truth-bomb on all three of you. To be honest, though, she kind of did.

“I guess she has a point,” you laugh, propping yourself up against a locker, “Bring everything.”

Then Steve saunters over, in his usual confusingly patterned button-down, an agitated look spread across his face. He nods down to the innumerable bags on the floor.

“What, are we going to France?” He scoffs, only taking a moment before continuing, “Will you guys come on? There’s gonna be a lot of traffic on the roads." Gee, wonder what’s making him so delightful this afternoon.

“Hey gang!” Oh no. David Silver? What was he doing here? “Are we going to have a blast or what? Huh?” We?

The rest of the group is just as lost as you are, exchanging silent looks of terror to the person next to them. Steve takes note of this and clears his throat.

“There’s been a uh, slight change in plans.”

“It’s weird, I mean I want to be with Dylan and everything, but part of me just wants to get it over with. Like I’m the last person that hasn’t done it yet." Brenda confides uneasily as you all stand against Kelly’s convertible, waiting as the tank fills up.

“Brenda… you are,” Kelly replies.

“No you’re not!" You assure her, "Look, Bren, you’re really gonna like it… I think." Ha. Like you know any more than she does. Donna nods in agreement.

“Yeah, totally… probably. Maybe? I—“

Kelly cuts Donna off, “Listen, who would you rather be with? Dylan McKay or David Silver?”

“Bren, Dylan’s a wonderful guy. You’re gonna have a great time! And you brought protection, so there’s nothing to be worried about!” You place a soothing hand on her arm.

“Right!” Brenda smiles, “I mean, I care about him, he cares about me, it’s gonna be great, right?”

“My grandparents collect anything they can get their hands on,” David guides the four of you, sans Brenda plus Steve, as you wander his grandparents' house. It’s definitely nice, definitely big… kinda smells like patchouli and sunscreen in the best way. “When I was younger I used to travel with them but my dad’s mad at them about something so I don’t see ‘em much anymore.”

“What’s he mad about?” Donna asks.

“Well, my grandparents like my mom and think it’s, y’know, bad he wants to divorce her... Come on,” he waves you all over to him as he escapes through the back door, “I saved the best for last.” You reluctantly follow behind him, your shoes clacking down the concrete steps and into the depths of his backyard. It was gorgeous— a huge pool, palm trees, brick-lined lounging areas. You could get used to this.

“Dude, we are definitely styling out here in this little desert oasis,” Steve grins, “David, I always knew you had potential.” No you didn’t.

“Thanks, Steve,” David begins to venture further back, “but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Look, if anyone gets in the mood, you climb up this little terrace here to this hidden nook and nobody will bother you.” You step up another flight of brick-lined concrete stairs and through a small patch of greenery, to be met with a cute little private hot tub… with people in it.

“David?” The old woman gasps, clutching her small champagne flute.

“Grandma?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” The senior man, presumably (and hopefully) his grandfather groans.

“It was an amaaaazing trip!” David’s grandmother raves, pouring pretzels into a glass bowl as the group is gathered around the kitchen island.

“It was indescribable,” his grandfather agrees excitedly, “we would dance every night under the stars.” He pulls Kelly from her stool, picking her up and spinning her around as if they were about to tango.

“Ooh! Can somebody pull the ice cream?” His grandma asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Donna smiles.

“Triple. Chocolate. Chip. I mean, If we’re gonna do it, we should do it right.” Steve chuckles politely at the woman, though he looks like he wants to put a gun to his head.

“Well, I’ve never seen so many old fogies on one boat in my whole life. I mean, a floating rest home is what it was!” His grandpa laughs heartily, getting ice cream bowls from the cupboard,

“Oh, Henry, that’s not so. But hey, one day we woke up on the boat and we both said ‘Let’s go home!’” Funny. That’s exactly what you were thinking. “I mean, we missed our little house in the desert.”

“We sure did,” Henry smiles happily, grabbing his wife’s jaw gently and planting a big smooch on her. “And lucky for us, we would have missed you if we didn’t cut our trip short!”

“Uh, well you guys must be really tired. Huh?” David chuckles awkwardly.

“Oh, we’re exhausted!” The woman nods, “but hey, who cares? I am so excited to see you! And to finally meet some of your friends! Hey! Why don’t we all stay up late, chow down on the snacks, and get to know each other?” Oh, joy.

“This way ladies,” David’s grandma guides the three of you upstairs, her hand on your shoulder. “You’re gonna go up these stairs, down the hall, first door on your right, and you are gonna love it.” You hop up the steps with Kelly and Donna, bags in hand.

“Did you guys hear her?” Kelly starts, opening the door to the room and throwing her bags on an empty bed. Hey, she acknowledged you. That’s a start. “She said she was gonna invite all the cute guys from the neighborhood over to the pool tomorrow!”

“Steve is not gonna like that,” Donna

“Oh, who cares?” Kelly snickers, “I wonder how Brenda’s doing.”

“‘Oh! Dylan, what beautiful eyes you have!’” You joke, throwing your hand to your forehead and bowing backwards.

“‘Oh, Brenda, you are so exquisite!’” Donna joins in, giggling.

“Barf.”

You splash your feet in the Silver's pool, crowds of people surrounding it. Overwhelmed by the vast amount of new people, you're off by yourself, kicking the water around, staring at your feet.

"You know, there's room on this raft for two." You look up to Steve, lying back on a giant inflatable alligator. Ugh, if only it was a real one.

"Why don't you ask your new girlfriends?" You point behind you to the two girls, who you could only think to describe as biker babes, lounging together. Porcelain white skin, spiked black bikinis, way more makeup than you need for a pool party. "They look pretty interested."

"Can you imagine what it would be like if you were interested? You know, me instead of Brandon?" You feign a gag, shaking your head.

"I don't really want to, Steve," you cringe dramatically as he chuckles, "but thanks for getting that thought haunting my dreams forever. Really appreciate it."

"Remember—" He wags his pointer finger at your face, eyes narrowing lightheartedly, "I saw you first." He puts his foot flat against the concrete wall of the pool, kicking off, but as soon as he's far enough— he guffaws. Of course he laughs at his own jokes.

"Dylan, hi!" You practically leap over to him in the foyer, your damp feet leaving faint footprints on the cold floor. "So?"

He shakes his head, brows furrowed ever so slightly, "So?"

"How'd it go?" You raise your eyebrows excitedly.

"How'd what go?"

"With Brenda!" He groans at that.

"Don't ask."

"Well, it's too late, I already did."

"What's with you girls?" Oh, this should be good. "You see a guy with another girl and you immediately think they're sleeping with her?! What is that?! I mean, every time a female customer goes into the Pit-- do you lose it at Brandon?"

"Can't say I do. They usually want him. But thankfully it's not the other way around… look, if this is about the other Walsh-- and McKay, it better be, or else I have questions-- just talk to her about it. Have an adult conversation."

"Easy for you to say, you're dating the king of good family values. The kid's a Hartley House episode."

You open the fridge in the kitchen, helping David’s grandparents scoop out ice cream. You fidget with the scoop in your hands before setting it down. After a devastating loss of Charades, you had to comfort your friends with ice cream. It was the only option, really.

“How do you guys do it?” They both look up from the bowls to stare at you. “The whole long-term relationship thing,” you clarify. “It’s just so… scary.”

“You’re right,” Henry nods, “It’s very scary. Trusting someone, with your heart, your intimate feelings. I mean, before we got married, Adele broke up with me seven different times. Running for the hills was our solution to every problem. Giving yourself to that person— trusting that they’re going to cherish you, to value you and every intimate part of yourself— that is the hardest thing.”

Adele jumps in, “And you have to accept each other for who you are. For every flaw and every perfection, you have to let the other person be who they are. But when you do find the person you can really be yourself with, who you can have fun with, and fully trust… it is the greatest feeling in the world.” She takes the scoop from in front of you and begins scooping. “Who is he? It’s not David, is it?”

You giggle, “No. No, it’s not David. His name’s Brandon, he’s—“ you can’t stop a grin from slowly breaking out on your face, “He’s great. He’s kind, and considerate, and totally crazy about me... but it’s still scary, y’know? My last relationship didn’t exactly end on great terms. And if I barely even liked the other guy but I was still totally obliterated by it ending… I can’t imagine how I’d feel with Brandon. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. I guess you can imagine how much of a major scare that is, huh?”

“Seven break-ups, sweetheart. I can imagine.”

"He even set up a meal plan for the kid! I can show you the security cameras if you want to see them," Nat indulges. You never thought you’d say this, but you were thrilled to be back in Beverly Hills. You missed your own bed, the Peach Pit… the cute waiter at the Peach Pit. And you’re thrilled to be eating something that isn’t ice cream.

"Oh, don't you dare! I cannot handle any more of that guy being good with kids or else he's gonna get me to procreate with him-- and nobody wants a bunch of little Walshes running around here," you snort, stirring your water mindlessly with the straw. Nat shrugs as he picks up an order.

“I could use the extra help!” As per usual, he booms out in laughter, walking away with the plate of food.

“What’s he so happy about?” You twist your head to the kitchen and you’re faced with your overtly-paternal and charitable lover.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just you fathering a sweet little homeless boy for the weekend,” you have to halt yourself from fawning over him. He’s probably the only teenage boy that would tolerate a little kid, let alone help them out like he did.

“He told you about that?”

“You mean how you not only befriended the little boy, but fed him for free, and made sure that his whole family would stay fed until they got back on their feet? Yeah, he might’ve. I mean I laughed, I cried— it was the feel-good story of the year, B.” He smiles at his feet as he ties his apron around his waist.

“I really missed you this weekend, Y/N/N.”

“Well, I’m here to stay now,” you smile as he kisses the top of your head.

“I’m a real lucky guy, you know that?”

“That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou @palefiregiver @bitch-imma-head-out

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