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winchester90210 · 4 years

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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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fangirl-imagines · 5 years

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Afternoons at the Peach Pit//Brandon Walsh Fluff

A/N: Requested by @winchester90210

Prompt: The reader goes to the Peach Pit every day to see Brandon Walsh and Steve can’t take it anymore.

You don't know how you got in the habit of going to the Peach Pitt every day. You went in one day with your friends for dinner and the next thing you know you're there every single day almost. You weren't even eating every time, most of the time you just get a milkshake or a coffee and try and sit at the counter with your homework in front of you so you don't feel so guilty about taking up an entire booth by yourself.

"So what are we studying for tonight?" A playful voice ask, leaning up against the counter beside you.

You looked up into the face of the person that brings you back here every day just to talk to. Brandon smiles at you and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat to smile back. He shouldn't look that good in that teal uniform shirt but you had a hunch he'd probably look great in anything. You realize he's staring at you, still waiting for your answer.

"History tonight. There's a test coming up in Henderson's class next week and I'm completely unprepared."

Brandon laughed, "Oh come on with the way you're in here studying every day you should ace that test. I think Nat is even thinking about charging you rent."

You laugh along with him even though you can feel a blush creeping up your face and suddenly the pen in your hands is fascinating.

"Hey, Brandon!"

You both look up to see Steve Sanders and Dylan McKay setting themselves up in a both across the room.

Brandon waves. "I'll be right back."

You nod and watch him go, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as you watch him. You didn't notice the way Steve was staring at you while you did so. You tried to turn your attention back to your notes and actually do the studying you told Brandon you came here to do. You use to be terrible at focusing on studying in public places, hiding out in the library instead, but over the last month or so you’d been camping out at the Peach Pit, you’d adapted. You were focused on your notebook when an arm snaked around your shoulders, suddenly made you jump back to reality. You looked up surprised to see Steve Sanders standing there with his arm around you and a chestier grin on his face that made your brow crease slightly.

“Oh, hey Steve...”

“Hey, Y/N, look I was hoping you could settle an argument for me and Brandon over there.”

He gestures behind his shoulder to where Brandon is standing with Dylan, staring at you and Steve mortified.

“Um, sure.” You agreed, feeling nervous at the sudden attention.

You had a class with Steve once and have gone to school with him for years but you had never had a conversation with him before.

“So, Brandon?” He wiggled his eyebrows and nodded like there was some secret going on between the two of you and this was all he needed to say.

You shook your head, “What about him?”

You glanced over his shoulder at where Brandon was saying something to Dylan and still staring in your direction, “You totally want him right?”

You almost choked at his words, looking up at him in shock. Your lips opened and closed like a fish out of water, blinking in surprise. Had you been that obvious?

Steve smiled smugly and nodded, “You totally do don’t you?! I told him you were coming here for more than the coffee!”

“Wh-,What?” You managed to stutter out.

Brandon chose that minute to rush over to the counter. “Hey, Steve come on man. Just let it go.”

He tried to joke it off but from the way he wouldn’t meet your eye you knew he had heard everything.

“I told you I was right Brandon!” Steve laughed, “Now would you just man up and ask-”

Your whole face went hot and you had to get out of there. Without waiting to hear any more, you scooped up your books of the counter and tossed your bag over your shoulder, rushing out of the Peach Pit without looking back.

It was weeks before you could make yourself go back to the Peach Pit. You managed to avoid Brandon, Steve, and their whole group at school. It wasn’t that hard, you never really saw them before you started hanging around Brandon anyway. You were grateful for this. Even thinking about seeing Brandon or his friends made you feel a fresh wave of embarrassment. You fully planned on avoiding him forever and you were pretty sure that was a reasonable plan until he called you. You didn’t know how he got your number and you were too surprised to even ask.

“Y/N? It’s Brandon. Look just don’t hang up okay!”

“Um, hey Brandon?” You bit your lip and shook your head even though you knew he couldn’t see you, “Look about what happened with Steve-”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about him. Steve’s my friend and all but he’s also kind of an ass. He hasn’t quite learned what tact means yet.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah, I kind of got that.” You sighed.

Brandon laughed, “Listen, why don’t you come by the Pit tomorrow night? Nat keeps asking me what I did to run off his best customer.”

“I don’t know Brandon. I’ve got a lot of studying and stuff to do.”

“Come on Y/N, just one night.”

You could practically hear him pouting through the phone and sighed, twirling the cord of the phone around your finger.

“Okay, just one night. I’ll be there around seven okay?”

“Great! I’ll see you there!”

When you walk into the Peach Pit the next night you have your textbooks stuck under your arm and walk straight to your normal spot at the counter. Sitting down you look around for any signs of your favorite waiter but see none. Instead its Nat that comes over to pour you a cup of coffee and greet you brightly.

“Hey Y/N! We were really starting to miss you around here.”

“Hey Nat, have you seen Brandon around?”

Nat nods his head, a playful smile on his face. “Oh yeah, he’s waiting on his date.”

Nat points over your shoulder. You turn around and there he is. Out of uniform and sitting in a booth in the corner, Brandon smiles at you and waves you over. Looking back at Nat in confusion the older man just winks at you and takes your books and sets them behind the counter before walking off. Hesitantly you walk over to the back booth.

“Right on time!” He greets, gesturing for you to sit down. You do even though your still visibly confused. “You look great tonight by the way.”

“You’re not wearing your uniform.”

Brandon laughed, “No, I only wear that at work. But if I knew you liked it that much I might have made an exception.”

You blinked, “Nat said you had a date?”

Brandon nods, sitting up straight in his seat to look at you seriously. “Look I’m sorry again about Steve. He thought he was helping me out by trying to get you to admit to liking me.”

You swallowed down the memory of the embarrassment you felt that day to ask, “How was he helping you out?”

Brandon bit his lip, “Because I like you and he was trying to convince me to ask you out.”

“You-, you like me?”

He nodded shyly. “Yeah, I do. A lot actually.”

You both smiled but neither said anything, not wanting to be the one to break the ice.

“So I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime? Like tonight maybe?”

You almost laughed, not believing this was really happening to you or that it was all because of Steve Sanders. “I’d like that.”

“Good!” He breathed, visibly relaxing into his seat. “And if you want maybe you could start coming around here again after school? I was really starting to miss that.”

“Yeah, I think I can do that.” You laughed.

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livelovelaug-h · 5 years

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How would yall like some private eyes fanfiction??

Let me know !!!

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writercole · 3 years

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One-Shots

*All readers are AFAB unless otherwise noted.

Targeted - Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader (non-romantic)

Paying the Price - Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader x Danneel Ackles

An Unexpected Matchmaker - Vet!Jensen Ackles

The First Customer - Nurse!Alex Calvert

Soul Food - Dean x Benny

It’s A Trap - Bela Talbot x Arthur Ketch (working)

Girl’s Night In - Jody x Donna (platonic)

Take A Bow - Dean x GN!Reader (heavy angst)

Not Again - Dean x Unnamed Female ; Sam Voyeur

Work Perks - Dean x Sam x Charlie x F!Reader

Comfort Me - Danneel x Reader

Captive - Dean Winchester x Reader - Superhero AU

Le Feu Follet - Dean x Reader

Born on the Bayou - Benny x Reader

Transitions - Transgender Sam

Sunshine & Rainbows - Dark Kaia

Unscripted - Dean Winchester x Reader

Whoops - Donna Hanscum

Orphaned - Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester

My Brother’s Keeper - Sam Winchester, Rowena, MoC!Dean (Mentioned)

It’s You - Sam Winchester x Reader

Token of Thanks - Cas x Reader

Why Am I A Girl - Sam x Reader

Enchanted - Dean x Reader

Brother Knows Best - Sam x Sister!Reader, Dean x Sister!Reader

What A Girl Wants - Dean x Reader

Never Too Late - Dean, Cas, Ruby, Jack, Reader

Yes, Mistress - Sub!Dean

Lazy Day - Dean x Reader

Just My Imagination - Sam Winchester x Reader

Take Two - Sam x Reader (platonic), Dean x Reader, Sam x Jess

Visions - Sam, Dean

Again and Again - Demon Dean

Just Feels Right - Mechanic!Dean x Teacher!Reader

My Reason - Dean Winchester x OC Brandy

Fast Cars & Freedom - Dean Winchester

Sunshine & Whiskey Kisses - Sam Winchester

Helping Paws - Dean Winchester feat. Archer the Husky

Traditions - Team Free Will

Our First Real Christmas - Sam & Dean Winchester

I Get Off - Stalker!Dean x Reader

She’s Gone - Dean Winchester x Reader

On Bended Knee - Dean Winchester x Reader

Sunrise, WY - The Winchester Gang

Light Me Up - Dean Winchester x Reader

Fated Mistakes - Alpha!Dean Winchester

Five Minutes More - Gamer!Dean Winchester

Bake My Breath Away - Baker!Sam Winchester

Steely-Eyed Missile Man - Bucky x Natasha (best friends)

The Howling Wolf - Bucky x Reader

Hiccups - Bucky x Sam x Reader

Somethin’ Stupid - Bucky Barnes

Dinner with the Parents - Frank Castle

Playdate - Frank Castle

Stardust - Clint Barton

The Devil Don’t Sleep - Soft!Dark Priest!Matt Murdock

Slow Hand - Matt Murdock

Come Away With Me - Priest!Matt Murdock

Hum - Matt Murdock

Challenge Accepted - Tony Stark

In Vino Veritas - Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

You Knew - John Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

Call 911 - Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy

Crashing Down - Opie Winston x Reader

Picking Up The Pieces - Opie Winston x Reader

Just The Way You Are - Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford x Reader

Holding Out Hope - Bodyguard!Opie Winston

Bad Girl - Chibs Telford x Reader

Blood & Ash - Jason Todd aka Red Hood (DC Batverse)

Just Desserts - Jason Todd aka Red Hood (DC Batverse)

Satin & Lace - Jason Todd aka Red Hood (DC Batverse)

The Kingslayer and the Milkmaid - Jaime Lannister (Game of Thrones)

Priority Request - Poe Dameron x GN Reader

The Girl Next Door - Bones McCoy

Just a Memory - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Whispered Promises - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Look What You Made Me Do - Rhett Abbott

My Bloody Fright Trail - Tom Hanniger (My Bloody Valentine)

My Way or the Highway - Boaz Priestley (Ten Inch Hero)

#cole writes #one shots #masterlist

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winchester90210 · 4 years

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x18: It’s Only A Test

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The SATs, health emergencies, and way too many feelings.

Warnings: mentions of tumors and loss of a loved one, a little bit of angst, maybe a swear word somewhere. I think that’s it!

Word Count: 2,300 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:Thanks for everyone’s patience! I had to take a little time off due to Shannen coming out about her cancer returning. It just felt weird to hear about that and then write a chapter about Brenda having a cancer scare. I just needed a little time to process it, but now I’m back and the next chapter (April is the Cruelest Month) is ACTUALLY going to come out next week! Very excited about that. Okay, okay, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! :) I’d usually link the song for the chapter but it’s not letting me for some reason. The song I would’ve linked is Opposites Attract by Paula Abdul if you still want to check it out! -

Seven days. Seven days! You have seven days to prepare for the SAT. Not six. Sure, you’ve been preparing for it practically your entire life but… a week? It’s like a sick joke or something.

You chew on the end of your pencil, bouncing your leg in a monotonous yet anxious fashion against the wooden desk in the newsroom. Staring down at the article in front of you, your heart pounds. It’s official. No one at this school knows how to use a comma and you can’t possibly fix everyone’s mistakes but you’re gonna die trying. How the hell does Andrea do this? And why did she think dropping all of her work on you right before the biggest test of your life was a good idea?

So you have to cover for her and prepare for the SATs all at the same time— not a big deal! It’s fine! You’d still have plenty of time to see your boyfriend, make sure you can get into a decent college, and see that the next issue of the Blaze gets out on time. Piece of cake! And hey, if you happen to make it out of all of this sane, that’s just a bonus.

“Y’know, I’ve wondered who’s been masticating all the pencils around here,” Brandon teases you as he struts over. You look up from the desk for the first time in half an hour to meet his glance.

“Masticating? Why— why use that word? You could’ve used chewed or chomped or a thousand other words. Masticating is totally unnecessary. Masticating is the kind of word that you learn on one of those super expensive, way too exclusive SAT prep courses.”

“What, like Alfred B. Cook?” He cocks an eyebrow up, pulling a stool from beside him to sit down next to you.

“‘Or you be fried,’” you quote exasperatedly, resting your head in your hand.

“Let me guess— Steve?”

“Bingo,” you sigh.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think those prep courses even work. The SATs are designed to test you on stuff you already know, you can’t cram for them.”

“That’s what I told Steve to begin with but… then again, maybe you can! I mean if there is some kind of system or something, then everyone else who can’t afford those stupid overpriced courses is put at a total disadvantage! And I- I can’t afford to be put at any kind of disadvantage, not with everything I have to do!“

“First off, Y/N/N, you’re the smartest person I know! Besides, it’s just a test. A test that you can take twice if you want to. Second… I think you need to cut back on the coffee because you’re about five seconds away from short-circuiting.” You roll your eyes at him for the coffee jab, but you know he’s right.

“Well, sure, it’s just a test— but it’s a test that’ll determine whether I end up at Stanford or San Quentin.”

“So, you know how we were all at Kelly’s studying for the SATs?” You nod in response, joining Brenda on the edge of her bed. Brenda crosses her arms over her chest, settling back into her bed. “Well, she was reading this magazine and it had this thing in it about… where y’know, you check your breasts for lumps.” She stirs in her spot, kicking her feet up onto the bed. “So—“ she inhales and her voice is low, solemn. “we all decided to do it. I don’t know why, I guess we were bored.” There’s something in the way that she starts gazing off, staring mindlessly into the corner of her bedroom that rubs you the wrong way. Something was off.

“Bren, that’s not something we have to worry about at our age.”

“Well, the article said that even people our age should get into the habit. So, we all did the test,” her words begin to waver as she speaks, “And I thought I felt something.” Her eyes well up, lower eyelids reddening against her tears that are threatening to break through. “So, I talked to my mom and we went to the doctor.”

No. No no no no no. There’s no way… but would she even be telling you about this if there was nothing to worry about? Your stomach lurches instinctively. Suddenly you didn’t feel so well.

“And?” The second she takes to respond feels like an hour as you await her response.

“It’s a tumor.” You shake your head, stammering.

“That—that— How is that possible? I mean, you’re only sixteen and—and—“ you stop yourself short to take a deep, thoughtful breath. “Bren…”

You don’t know what else there is to do besides pulling her into a hug. Her head sits on your shoulder and your hand is resting on her back. You sit like that for a moment, finding comfort in each other’s company. You’d never had a friend like her before. Sure, you’ve had friends, but nothing could hold a candle to what you have with her. It was nice, having someone you could talk about anything with, free of judgment, free of criticism. And the thought of losing that… losing her? As that starts to sink in, it terrifies you.

“We’re getting a biopsy on Saturday,” she whispers.

There’s a beat before you mumble, “At least you get to miss the SATS?”

“So, Steve, any glorious plans this evening?” You meet up with your friend on the way out of West Beverly.

“I was planning on studying. You know what they say— ‘Alfred B. Cook—‘“

“Or you be fried, yeah, I get it. Can I come?”

“Are you asking me for a date?” He flashes a mischievous grin, to which you scoff.

“Of course I am,“ you tease, “Nothing and I mean nothing gets me in the mood for romance like my boyfriend’s best friend and the impending doom of a standardized test.” Steve rolls his eyes, waiting for you to finish. “Look, of course I’m not asking you for a date. What I am asking you for is the Alfred B. Cook advantage. The notes, practice tests, secret government documents– whatever you’ve got.” You shoot him a pair of pleading eyes. "Hey, I’ve gotta go… see you at eight?” You start to slowly tread backward in the direction of your car as you talk.

You turn on your heel toward the parking lot as you hear him call out “It’s a date!”

“No it’s not!”

“Hey, turn it off— we’re supposed to be studying!” You plead loudly as he turns the radio on his nightstand up, pop music blaring so loud you’re surprised the furniture isn’t shaking.

“Come on, you love this song!”

“Steve, everybody loves this song. Paula‘s a goddess of pop,” you dismiss him, reaching over and twisting the dial down.

“Loosen up. Y’know, what you really need is some fun,” he turns the dial to the other side, and now you’re back at square one.

“I have plenty of fun!” you narrow your eyes challengingly, but when you go to turn it back down, a small neon orange ball comes hurdling at your face. You gasp, dodging the projectile aimed at your head. “Did you really just throw an off-brand cheese ball at my face?”

“Maybe I did… maybe I didn’t,” he shrugs nonchalantly, moving over to the lounge chair in the corner of his room.

“What are you, five?” You reprimand him, and as he bends over to pick up a pencil from his carpet, you scoop the plastic bucket of cheese balls, firing a few directly at him. They hit his shoulder blade, crumbling as they fall down to the carpet, hints of orange residue leaving itself all over Steve.

“Who’s five now?”

“Okay, you got four choices, right? Well, out of those four, one will be a total throwaway,” Steve explains, pacing around his room as you catapult yourself back onto his bed, settling to sit cross-legged. It had only taken an hour and a handful of cheese balls to get a Steve to actually start studying.

“Wait, really?“

“Yeah! They do it so they can weed out the morons,” he nods, “No you’ve got three choices left and out of those three choices, one word will often mean the total opposite, so you can rule that one out too. Then you’re down to two choices, and even if you don’t know the answer, you’ve still got a 50/50 shot.”

“That makes it so much easier!” You fall back dramatically and rest your forearm under the back of your head.

“Yeah, you just can’t spend too much time on one question, you have to breeze through it with total confidence and no hesitation.”

“God, I hope I can do it.” You exhale, watching the fan on the ceiling swirl around.

“You can do it. You’re smart already. In fact, I think that’s your problem. You totally outsmart yourself.” He joins you on his queen size bed, lying down beside you.

“Well, sometimes I wish I wasn’t so ‘smart,’” you scoff.

“You know what?” He waits until you’re looking at him with curious eyes to continue, “you’re pretty cute when you’re not biting my head off.” You roll your eyes at his bluntness. If he was anyone else you’d probably be a little offended, but it was Steve. You were way too used to it now.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”

“No…” You watch as his eyes flicker from your own, to your lips, then slowly back up to your eyes. “This is.” He leans forward, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

You sock him hard in the shoulder, shooting up from his bed.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grabs his shoulder as if in pain, but you know it’s only his ego that’s wounded.

“What the hell, man?!” You run your hands through your hair, groaning out in frustration. “Why on earth would you do that?!”

“Well, uh… I don’t know. I thought I was picking up on something, that’s all.”

“I have to go… Hey, I’m sure you helped my score two—three hundred points.” You scramble to get your things together, actively avoiding looking Steve in the eye.

“Hey, B,” you join Brandon on the grass in the quad, a small thud as you set your food down beside you.

“Hey, Y/N/N. What’s for lunch?” It was unusually cold today. Clouds covered the usually beaming sun, though little beams of light peeked through every once in a while.

“How can you even think about food right now?“ You fold your hands in your lap, swallowing. You hadn’t eaten all day, but you couldn’t make yourself hungry if you wanted to.

“Actually, there’s something pretty important I want to tell you—“

“Wait. Before you say anything…” you catch his gaze thoughtfully, “how’re you holding up with everything?”

He sighs at that, letting his eyes drift to the ground. “Look, I can’t really flip out at home because of Brenda… but the truth is, inside I’m- I’m flipping out, Y/N/N.” You grab his hand silently, holding it and resting your intertwined fingers on your lap as he continues. “I mean, I know she’s gonna be fine but…”

“Hey, hey… of course she’s gonna be fine.” But then again…

“But then again, there’s always that chance,” his voice is quivering as he swallows, “And I can’t even comprehend it.” You place your free hand over the hand that you’re holding. You sit in silence for a moment, and you think about how you’ve never seen him like this before. Your typically mild-mannered boyfriend’s quiet. He’s vulnerable. He’s scared.

“Brandon, just know that no matter what it is, you can always come talk to me about it.“

"I know… you too, Y/N/N.” You give him a soft, empathetic smile.

“So, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Well, it’s almost been three hours,” Brenda sighs.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure she’ll call any minute!” Cindy agrees, chewing mindlessly on her thumbnail.

“And when she does I’ll answer it,” Brenda states, glaring in an accusatory way towards her mother.

“Fine, can I get anybody something to eat?” Cindy jolts up, making you realize how antsy everyone is. You’re tapping your foot as you stand next to Dylan at a hundred miles a minute, Brandon’s been pacing around the couch for twenty minutes, and Jim hasn’t said a word this entire time.

“Doesn’t anyone know any more jokes?” Brenda suggests, eyeing Dylan.

“None that I could tell here… Y/N/N?” Dylan looks to you, but you shake your head.

The doorbell rings, causing Cindy to go careening towards the phone. She whips it up to her ear and shouts impatiently into it.

“Hello?!”

“See, I told you she’d answer it,” Brenda grumbles, going over to the front door. She swings it open as Kelly and Donna walk in, giant gift baskets in hand. “You guys, I’m not dead.” The telephone starts to ring, interrupting Kelly when she opens her mouth to speak. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” Brenda shouts, bolting over to the phone and bringing the antenna up. She lifts it to her ear. “Hello? Yes, this is Brenda… hi, Dr. Donner… Uh-huh…” Oh god. This is it. “Uh-huh!” A grin spreads across her face, “It is?!” You can feel the weight lifting off of your shoulders with pure relief. You quickly send up a collective thank you to any and every god you can think of, just in case. “It’s fibroadenoma, just like she thought. Fairly common in teenage girls due to an abnormally high level of estrogen. I guess my hormones were raging,” she giggles.

“Tell me about it,” Dylan smirks, and Brandon sends his elbow into his stomach at the exact same moment you smack Dylan on the back of the head. “Hey!”

Now, time to tackle your next crisis: the fact that you just bombed your SATs.

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

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winchester90210 · 4 years

Text

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x17: Stand (Up) And Deliver.

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Tensions run high when Brandon decides to run for class president.

Warnings: It’s like 90% angst this week. Everyone’s a jerk at some point in this. Brandon’s a jerk. You’re a jerk. Kelly’s a jerk. Just be prepared haha. There might be a swear word in there somewhere. If any of you find something that should be tagged in the warnings, let me know!

Words: 4,100.

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

A/N: Just a little disclaimer beforehand: I like Kelly. I know this chapter doesn’t exactly paint her in the best way, but all of the relationships will heal in due time. This one was really fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think!

“Brandon, wait up!” You swerve around the clumps of people in the hall to catch up to him, “I’ve got a proposition.”

“Yeah? Your desk or mine?” He wraps his left arm around you, hand warm against your waist as he pulls you close.

"Well, actually, Andrea has a proposition for you. I’m just the messenger,“ You slip a paper out of the folder in your hands and pass it to him. His head cocks, looking back at you peculiarly.

“‘Run for office?’ Y/N/N… no one even knows me here.”

“That’s what makes this so perfect, no one knows you enough to hate you or anything! Look, this is a good idea because from what Andrea told me, the rest of the candidates are a bunch of popular airheads. And with your Kennedy hair and actual set of morals, you’d be a total shoo-in! At least think about it, okay?” He pecks the top of your head, fiddling with the paper in his hand.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Yo, politicos! Last-minute dark horse entry into the class presidential elections!” One minor downfall to Brandon’s entry— David Silver. You forgot he was documenting the entire thing and you didn’t find out about it until he was there sticking a camera in your face and asking you what made Brandon such a ‘suitable candidate.’ You might just lose your mind. “Brandon Walsh, the new kid on the West Beverly block.”

“The sister is always the last to know,” Brenda grumbles, leaning back into the lockers as she watches her brother get relentlessly hounded by a few bulky cameras.

“He kind of looks like a politician,” Kelly shrugs, “He’s got that Kennedy hair.” Kelly watches as well, though she’s much more interested than the candidate’s sister. Brandon turns down the hall and out of sight, the group of cameras following his every move. She bites her lip amorously. “It’s like a magnet.”

“What?”

“Power,” she smirks, a devilish glint in her eye.

Brenda shoots her a warning glare, “Kelly, don’t.”

“What great news!” Mrs. Walsh gushes, “You know, we’ve always felt bad about moving here and screwing up your plans to run back home.”

“Do you think you can pull it off?” Jim questions, sipping his afternoon coffee.

“Oh! Definitely,” Donna makes her presence known at the entrance of the kitchen, with Kelly not too far behind and… suddenly you feel the urge to leave. Immediately. “The other guy’s a nobody too. No offense.”

“I’ve never been friends with a candidate before!” Kelly smiles, rounding the table to go over to Brandon, while you’re off by the kitchen counter with the other twin.

“Friends with a candidate’s sister,” Brenda corrects.

“Uh, right,” She nods, “I’ve never even voted.” She sets her hand on him, her fingertips gently grazing his shoulder.

Brandon clears his throat, shrugging her hand off of him and moving over to the counter, “Well, you gotta get involved, Kel. It’s important to try to change things.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

“Kelly!” Brenda urges. Once she realizes everyone’s eyes are on her, she readjusts herself. “Uh, didn’t you want to um, borrow one of my jackets? Because I have it upstairs if you want to come get it.” Huh. That was… weird.

It’s the next morning, and you’re sitting there at the kitchen table with the Walshes, making button after button after button. It honestly felt like your hands were gonna fall off at this point. The things you do for that boy.

“So there I was, listening to Donna being heckled and instantly I knew what to do!” Brenda grins, reminiscing about the previous night at The Fall Out.

“That’s great, honey,” Jim smiles absentmindedly, “Would you pass me that glue, please?”

“Bren, that’s incredible! You’ll have to drag me along next time, I so want to see that in action.” You’re the only one to actually acknowledge her as you help Cindy glue down something onto one of one thousand campaign buttons. Ugh, you could feel the blisters forming.

“Definitely! Performance-oriented coffee houses are really happening, I mean, I really felt like a part of it!”

“Right… Is this button crooked?” Cindy asks, holding it up to her chest to get a second opinion.

“It’s fine, mom.” Brenda sighs, scooting her chair out from under her. She stands up with a silent huff and stomps to the foyer to greet whoever came to the door a few minutes prior. You know what you’re doing is for Brandon, but you can’t help but think about how Brenda’s holding up throughout all of this. I mean, her parents barely even acknowledge her existence at this point.

“Well, I was up all night from that toxic cappuccino, thinking about what you said about getting involved…” Kelly’s purring at Brandon in the foyer while Donna stands idly by. “Brandon, I can help you win. I know everyone.”

“Or how to glom onto everyone,” Donna mutters.

“And that’s exactly what you need.” Kelly bargains.

Brenda stalks over to the group, eyeing the persistent girl suspiciously.

“Kelly, whenever political stuff comes on you switch to MTV,” She raises her eyebrows in disbelief as she objects. She isn’t gonna let Kelly sink her claws into her brother. Not on her watch.

“Look, help from anyone would be appreciated,” Brandon smiles politely, stepping back into the doorway as Kelly tries to bound closer.

“Help doing what?” Andrea swoops in from behind Brandon and waltzes in through the open door, arms full of rolled up campaign posters.

“I’m going to run Brandon’s campaign!” Kelly grins.

“Kelly, he already has someone running his campaign,” Andrea reminds her.

“Yeah, I think Y/N already has it covered,” Brenda jumps in, nodding eagerly.

“Well, isn’t there enough room for the both of us?” Kelly asks, hitching an eyebrow up. She folds her arms over her chest and starts at the candidate.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Kel,” Brandon agrees.

“Oh, come on! You can never have too much help. It’ll be fun.”

“Here, I got some cute politician photos,” Kelly offers. Oh yeah. Kelly being here was a real help. “Try to model yourself after these guys, okay?”

“Well, I can see you’ve been busy,” You comment, peering over her shoulder to look at the pictures she prepared. “Gary Hart never even made it to the nominations, Kelly. Besides, what we need to be focusing on are the actual issues. Not if Brandon looks cute enough.” You go and sit back down at Brandon’s desk.

“Yeah!” Brandon agrees enthusiastically, “See, I had this idea that we could feed the homeless people with all the surplus food they throw out of the cafeteria.”

“That’s perfect!” You smile approvingly, tapping your fingers against the wooden desk. “And that’s why you’re going to win— you actually use your brain instead of just your face.”

“Wait!” Kelly cautions, “We have to hit people with what they want for themselves.”

“Hey,” you hear Brenda’s voice come from the conjoined bathroom, “Big news— I’ve got my own campaign going— to leave school.”

“Brenda, that is a great idea!” Kelly exclaims, “Yeah, we’ll tell them they can leave school for lunch!” Oh dear.

Brenda stomps back into her room without hesitation and slams the door behind her. You sigh, lifting yourself from the seat.

“Be right back, B,” you trail after your best friend into her bedroom, sitting beside her on her bed. “You’re serious about quitting school?”

“Yeah, I am serious, actually.”

“Hey, y’know, in some cases, getting your equivalency could actually be more beneficial. Just because it’s not right for other people doesn’t mean it can’t be right for you.” Well… you didn’t think it was a great idea, but you weren’t about to tell her that. The last thing she needs right now is for another person to dismiss her. And hey, if anyone can pull it off, it’s probably her.

“Tell my parents that,” she snickers, eyes rolling.

You can’t believe you’re even thinking this… but you are so sick of Brandon’s face. You can’t turn down a hall without seeing his picture, seeing his face staring right at you. “Brandon Walsh for CLASS PRESIDENT.” It was mocking you at this point. And you know, you know, it was partly your idea. But it was mostly Andrea’s. And the idea was to work on the campaign with him as a team. A small two-person team. Maybe even three with Andrea. But not Kelly. Anyone but Kelly.

You’re sitting with Brenda at Fall Out and it feels good— getting out of school, out of your house, out of Casa Walsh. Not to mention the great coffee.

“Rumor has it that some things you learn with Jack you never wanna unlearn,” Sky, the spunky redheaded barista whispers.

“Are you two…” Brenda trails off, both hands wrapped around her warm coffee mug.

“No way,” she giggles, “Even good sex ruins a good friendship.” The guy you had met earlier, Jack, treads over, plopping himself down on the empty seat at the table. “Listen, Jack, I really hate to ask you this, believe me… but it’s family crisis time again, I’ve gotta go up to Modesto.”

“Forget it,” he scoffs, “every time I house-sit for you we wind up in a fight. It’s always ‘you didn’t water the plants’ or ‘you forgot to feed the guppy.’”

“Hey, you know, if you need a house sitter I might have a candidate,” Brenda smirks.

You watch, horrified as Brandon’s campaign video plays across the Walshes tv screen. It’s self-indulgent superficial nothingness as clip after clip of Brandon being cute and literally nothing else is displayed. This had to be the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen. No selling points, no talk about anything he’s looking to improve, not even a lousy bribe. Wonderful. Very smart move letting Kelly put this together. And it’s only getting better as it freeze frames, with David’s voice-over pulling through.

“Bran the man! And he can deliver.” You had to fight off every urge you had to laugh out loud. I mean… come on. Come. On! Bran the man? Way to go, Kel.

“Bran the man?” Brandon’s just as confused as you are, mouth agape. You have to take a deep breath to suffocate the laugh that’s trying to claw its way up before you speak. And behind that laughter, there was just a little bit of anger. Juuust a little bit.

“Now, okay. As incredible as that was, Kelly, and I mean incredible— you told us… nothing.”

“That’s the beauty of it! He doesn’t have to say anything.”

“That’s not a good thing! He could be trying to reinstate nazis or the KKK into West Beverly and we’d have no idea. Brandon, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea!” You protest, eyes wide.

“Hey, we all want to win, Y/N/N.” Okay. Make that a lot of anger. He was actually going to let that flaming piece of self-indulgent garbage be his campaign video?

“Well, if this is your way of winning… I think there’s a part of me that actually wants you to lose. I’m out.“ You shove on your jacket, jumping up from your seat and start to foot it out the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

You shrug carelessly, “I don’t know. Might grab some pie, might rent a movie, maybe a pizza. We’ll see.” You make it out before he can get another word in, the slamming of the door the only sound in the house now. Hah. Bran the Man. Unbelievable.

“I can’t believe it,” Brandon mumbles, “she totally just deserted me.”

“Well…” Kelly begins, “I’m still here, Brandon.” He lets out a gravelly sigh, shaking his head as he paces over to the bookshelves.

“I don’t know. I think she’s right. The whole thing might be a little vain.”

“Listen, Brandon,” she stalks over to him, voice lowering, “If you really want something… you have to go after it. Hard. Any means necessary.”

That’s when it clicks for him. Had Kelly had been coming onto him this entire time? He looks down at his feet, chuckling sheepishly, a hint of bitterness peaking through.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Kelly shakes her head, approaching closer and letting her arms snake around his neck.

“I wouldn’t say so.”

“Kelly,” he grabs her wrists and removes them from around him, setting them back at her sides.

“C’mon, no one has to find out,” she purrs, attempting to return to the previous position.

This time, he’s not so gentle, practically flinging her arms off of him. “What’s your problem? She’s technically not even your girlfriend!"

“But she’s not not my girlfriend. Just because we haven’t sat and talked and said ‘we’re dating’ doesn’t mean it changes our relationship. I love her, Kelly. And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about that."

“But—“

“Let me rephrase this so you understand,” he continues, only speaking fractionally slower. Taunting her. “I’m not going to do this to Y/N. And I’m not gonna self-sabotage after one argument. I don’t know if I’ve been sending off the wrong signals or something— but I have no interest in you romantically. I agreed to let you help so I could get extra help on the campaign. Not so I could see your clumsy, evil attempt at trying to seduce me out of the relationship with the girl I love.” He clears his throat, “Now… Are we clear?”

Kelly exhales in defeat, eyes lightly lined with tears of embarrassment. “Crystal.”

“This place is so cool!” You cheer as you enter through the front door of Sky’s apartment, cheese pizza in hand.

“I know, right?!” Brenda beams, “I can’t believe I actually convinced my parents to let me stay here for a few days. Then again, maybe they’ve been so focused on Brandon that it slipped right by them.”

“No way! Parents worship the ground their children walk on, they just never admit it,” you convince, throwing your jacket on the couch.

“That’s probably true,” Brenda laughs, “how’d you convince your parents?”

“I didn’t, Eric did. I swear that kid could talk his way out of a paper bag,” You set the pizza down on the coffee table, kicking your feet up. “So, our first order of business. What are we watching? Dirty Dancing or Risky Business?”

You sigh as you and Brenda watch her brother chat up a random jock. Tom or Todd or Mark or something.

“Brandon hates that jerk,” She notices. Andrea joins you at your other side, scoffing.

“Yeah, well, jerks are voters too,” she adds.

“I just can’t believe he let himself get manipulated this way!” Brenda might not be able to, but you sure can.

“Major integrity loss,” Andrea laments.

“And here comes Svengali,” you fawn sarcastically as Kelly struts her way over, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Brenda, how can you wear that costume?”

“Well, Kelly, you put one arm through one sleeve and one through the other,” Brenda taunts back. You’d think with the number of costumes Kelly wears that she’d be a pro by now.

“First of all, Hippie Witch is out,” She hisses.

“It’s not hippie witch. It’s twin peaks and it’s very in, but that doesn’t matter.”

“What does matter is that it’ll hurt Brandon,” Kelly barks back. Yeah. Like she’s ever cared about Brandon.

“Just till elections, kay, Bren?” You don’t even notice Brandon until he’s there, directly in front of you. He’s like a pop-up book from hell, “so, are you guys coming to the campaign party at Donna’s?”

“As much as we’d love to, we have to stay and house sit for Sky,” you shrug.

“Sounds thrilling,” Kelly comments.

“Well, Kelly, one day when you’re finally grown up enough to be on your own, maybe you’ll understand having responsibilities beyond finding the best shoes to match your outfit,” you snap.

“Can’t you at least leave the chair?!” You call after the man that’s been carrying out Sky’s possessions for the last twenty minutes, but your voice is raw and it’s all in vain as he carries out the last of it. “There’s nothing left!”

“Uh, you’re something,” Oh. Jack. Or was it Mark?

“They took everything,” You bellow, “I mean, I could’ve tried to fight them to the death for it but I’m not sure that would have done any good. The repo man knows no bounds, apparently.”

“I know, I saw ‘em cruise by. It’s pretty awful. But hey, at least it’s only things. We’ve got what’s important. You… me, Shakespeare the fish, and some Franco-American spaghetti.” He strides into the apartment and over to the oven, to which you follow. He holds his lighter up to it, but to no avail. You jump as there’s a knock at the door. You bounce over, figuring it’s Brenda. And… well, it is. And then some.

“What’s going on?” You ask, Jack not far behind you.

“Y/N/N, I’m sorry, I tried to get them to go somewhere else but they wouldn’t listen,” Brenda apologizes genuinely as the group of people push their way in, “Hey, Jack.”

“So this is the fish you’re feeding while the cat’s away, huh? Classy,” Kelly smirks. Crowd after crowd file their way into the apartment every time you believe they’re about to stop. “Where’s the food?”

“Well, I’m sorry, Kelly, but if I knew you were coming I would’ve stocked the place for you!” You retort, eyes narrowing.

“I tried calling but the phone was disconnected,” she responds and sashays over to the fridge.

“I’m here at the Walsh campaign party,” oh god. You’d know that voice anywhere. The joyous David Silver. “It’s sort of a standup event, everyone seems to be having a great time!” David speaks professionally to the camera as he walks through the front door and into the bare living room. You give a quick wave to Scott, who’s holding the camera as David continues to lay it on thick. “And here’s the candidate’s sister! The hostess with the mostest!” Brenda storms right up to David, ripping the microphone from his hand.

“Get out!” The room goes silent as all heads are turned to her as Jack calmly grabs the mic.

“Uh, friends. Yeomen. Country club men. Lend me those pierced ears. Listen up, how many of you really know what this candidate stands for?” Brenda slowly approaches Brandon, who was in the middle of chatting up potential voters.

“Do you even know anymore, Brandon? I mean, you’ve sorta turned into this processed candidate, haven’t you? Leaving any real help, any honest shot of winning behind.”

“David!” Kelly practically catapults herself across the room, grabbing David by the arm, “Why don’t we turn on the video, okay?” Damage control, you presumed. David moves to plug the tv in, but as soon as it goes into the outlet— darkness. And not the metaphorical deep kind of darkness, but literal darkness. The power goes out.

“No manager is listed! What do I do, ring all the bells?” You lament as you turn around to go back into the apartment, met by Steve at the doorway.

He mumbles as he breezes past you, “Low-rent city, Y/N/N.”

“You’re welcome, Steve!”

“Hey, where’s the fuse box?” Oh joy, the candidate himself.

“No clue.”

“No offense, but you really have the apartment from hell!” Kelly snickers. And that’s your finishing touch, tonight. Between the power going out, everything getting repossessed, and Brandon and Kelly the power couple from hell, you can’t take it anymore.

“You know, you guys just showed up!” You start, arms folded, “You just burst in, not even thinking that Brenda and I might have a life, just assuming that it would be fine to invite yourself to someone else’s apartment!”

“Y’know, you could’ve been a little more supportive and offered the apartment,” Brandon jeers.

“Supportive?! Give me a break! What about you, Brandon?! You’ve been so vain and self-absorbed these past two weeks that I’m not even sure you’re the same guy anymore!” You snarl out, and you can almost guarantee that all the neighbors are now privy to the drama, but at the moment you really don’t care. You try to stop the words but the more they flow out the harder they are to stop. You can feel the burning in your eyes as they well up, “and you, Kelly!” You can hear the disgust rolling off your tongue as you say her name, “You just hate when anyone besides yourself gets attention, so you decide to console yourself on Brandon! Why can’t you go for any of the millions of guys in Beverly Hills, why do you have to always go straight for your friend’s boyfriends?!”

You pause for a moment and inhale deeply, “Look. You guys have had no problem passing me right by, so why don’t you both just keep on going and leave me the hell alone?”

“C’mon, Y/N. Don’t do this now!” He whips you back around, his grasp firm but gentle enough that if you wanted to keep walking, you could. You look him dead in the eye as your voice softens.

“I’m sorry, it bad timing for your campaign?”

Brandon sighs, and when the light catches his eye you can see he’s just as thrilled with this fight as you are, tears delicately rimming the edges. He releases his grip on your arm. Taking your hand in his instead, apologetically, he drops his voice down to match yours.

“I gotta go now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I don’t even think I want to vote. But hey, you know what, Brandon? Congratulations. You might really have what it takes to be a politician.”

“Mr. Walsh, your proposals please.”

“Uh, my first order of business will be to get rock bands every Friday at lunch.” The room breaks out in an erupting cheer as you and Brenda watch amusedly off to the side. You look down at the “Walsh for Class President” button in your hand, fidgeting with the metal clasp between your fingers as a brief chant of “Walsh! Walsh! Walsh!” starts. God, he had them eating out of his fingers at this point.

His opponent, Michael Miller, leans into the mic. His voice rings throughout the room skeptically as the cheers settle, “How do you plan to implement this?”

“Well, Uh…” He swallows, “Contact the bands.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that. There are releases and— and permits and insurance. When I was assistant activities committee chairman—“that doesn’t sound like a real title but whatever“—I brought in bands for the prom. Are you aware of all the red tape involved?”

“Uh…” Come on, Brandon. Say something. “No.” Uh-oh. “But you are. And that’s just one of about fifty reasons why you’re more qualified to be president than I am.”

Your hear Kelly’s enraged whispers from behind you, “What the hell is he doing?” As you smile down at your hands you know exactly what he was doing. He was being Brandon.

“And you certainly run a more honorable campaign. During the two weeks of total campaign madness, I set out to be an honest reputable candidate. I ended up with a vague campaign and I seriously hurt the people I love along the way. Not only that, but I’m nowhere near as experienced you as you are. And that’s the reason why I’m throwing my support to you… Mr. President.” Unanimous frustration spreads across the room, groans and everyone else’s aggravated yells sounding out. But you? You’re trying to keep your grin down.

"Hey, B.” You approach him in the hallway as he skids to a stop, letting Steve wander off with Donna and Kelly.

“Oh, hey. You want to talk?"

"I think we better,” you pause, “I can’t believe you dropped out… I mean, Steve was gonna stuff the ballot box for you and everything. He’s a real friend, that Steve.”

"I’m sorry."

"Wait– why?"

"You were right. I was self-absorbed. I got so wrapped up in trying to win any way that I could that in the long run all it did was push you away. I’m sorry."

"I’m sorry too,” you sigh, “as soon as things didn’t go as I planned I ran off. I think it’s safe to say we both did our share of messing up this week."

"Me a little more so than you, but yeah. I’d say so," he nods in agreement. As you peer to the nearest wall, you’re met with yet another Brandon Walsh poster. You smile deviously, yanking a sharpie out of your purse. You raise the marker to the poster and begin to sketch a goatee onto his black and white face with the real one off to your side, chuckling at your immaturity. You hand the sharpie off to him so he can continue to defile his own face. "Remind me to thank Andrea for this experience, will you?"

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou @palefiregiver @rosy-pugs @bitch-imma-head-out-deactivated

#beverly hills 90210 #bh90210 #90210 #bh 90210 #brandon walsh #jason priestley #brandon walsh x reader #brandon walsh imagine #kelly taylor #bh90210 rewrite #show rewrite #brenda walsh #donna martin #andrea zuckerman #jason priestley x reader #steve sanders #fanfiction #90s fanfic #reader insert

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winchester90210 · 4 years

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x14: East Side Story

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: A new arrival at West Beverly has the reader a little on edge.

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, partially unedited writing.

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 it! I feel like this is definitely more of a filler chapter, but it's fun nonetheless! Next week…Palm Springs Weekend ;)

“M.C. Hammer’s office.”

“Hi, how are you? Is he in for David Silver?” David’s voice sounds out through the school as he speaks on the phone and into the radio system.

“For who?”

“David Silver broadcasting live and direct from the tree-lined campus of West Beverly High!”

“West Beverly High?” The woman sighs, frustrated, “Does Mr. Hammer know who you are?”

“Not yet! But he will once you put the call through… Hello? Hello?”

“Man, David Silver has totally lost it,” you giggle as Brandon greets you in the hallway with a kiss.

“He’s not that bad,” he shrugs. He intertwines his fingers with yours as you trot to first period together.

“I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t be the least bit concerned with my well-being if I started calling up Madonna?” You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, “It’s not that he’s a bad kid… he’s just a little bit of a pest sometimes, y'know?” Brandon smiles as you continue, stopping at his locker and twisting the combination.

“Moving on from the thrilling life of David Silver,” he swings it open, piling book after book in his hands. “How are you and Kelly?” You sigh dramatically. “Still not good, huh?”

“She’s still not talking to me and I’m still not talking to her… I just don’t get it. Brenda forgave me, Brenda forgave her, we traded apologies, we had a group hug, everything was fine… if not a little weird,” you huff, leaning against the cold metal lockers. “She thinks Brenda wasn’t harsh enough with me for the whole Dylan fiasco.”

“And what do you think?”

“Well, for one, I think it’s ridiculous. If Brenda’s not mad, why should anyone else be? And what she did was way worse than what I did! But it’s fine. She’ll talk to me when she’s ready to talk to me. I’m just… a little aggravated.”

“Well, then I’m just gonna have to put in a little extra effort to relax you,” he propositions.

“I’d like to see you try, Walsh.”

“Do not tell me the printer broke again,” Andrea organizes the papers at her desk, sighing. Man, was negativity in the air today or what? You stand at the front of her desk, Brandon standing patiently behind you.

“Okay, I won’t,” you agree, “it’s the fax machine.”

“This school is falling apart right before my very eyes!” She criticizes melodramatically. “Can I help you?” She peers past your shoulder to the person behind you.

“This isn’t the new building, is it?” You turn back to face the girl, and what you aren’t expecting is… someone that pretty. Long gorgeous brunette curls fell down her shoulders. She smiles nervously, which draws attention to the dark cherry lipstick on her lips. Beverly Hills never falls short on pretty girls, does it?

“No. You have to go back out through the quad and past the science labs,” you tell her.

“Which way is that?”

“It’s through the double doors,” Brandon is standing with his back to her, studying the revised paper in his hand, “I’m going that way. I’ll show you.”

“And stick Andrea and I with your typos?” You tease, looking up at him as you sit down on the edge of the wooden desk.

“What typos?”

“You forgot an A in recreational and you failed to capitalize Sacramento,” Andrea indulges.

“And you have the guts to call yourself Sports editor?” You denounce him facetiously.

“Maybe Sacramento doesn’t deserve a capital,” he retorts.

“Hey, cheap shot! I was born in Sacramento,” the mystery girl pipes in.

“We’ll try not to hold it against you,” you joke. You hold out your hand for her to shake, “I’m Y/N, one of the reporters for the school newspaper. I do Lifestyle, Opinions, Entertainment. That sort of thing.” She shakes your hand and you notice how freshly painted and perfect her nails are.

“I’m Carla Montez–”

“Carla?” Brandon jumps in. Wait. This was Anna’s Carla? He had mentioned her earlier today but… this had to be her? “I’m Brandon Walsh. Y'know… Jim and Cindy Walsh?”

“Hello, Brandon.” Well, this was going to be fun.

And boy was it. As the day went on, you not only discovered she could speak in flawless french and could debate an English novel like no one’s business, but she actually knew something about computers and robotics. This totally blew. You don’t know why exactly, but it did. You were sure of it. And not only was she gorgeous, smart, and good with computers, but Brandon was at her side all day, showing her the ropes. Although you had a hunch she would’ve been just fine without him.

You walk through the Peach Pit doors with a relieved sigh as you’re met with your friends’ faces. “Hi, Brenda, Hi, Donna, Hi…” your words trail off as you get to Kelly, who’s actively avoiding your gaze. Without another word, you sit down at the counter next to Brenda and as far from your aggravating blonde friend as possible. Hey, at least Carla wasn’t here.

“Hey, Carla’s here!” Steve shouts out, standing behind you with a hand on your shoulder. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

Brandon’s head pops out from the depths of the kitchen to check on the tables, but as soon as he lays eyes on you he lights up.

“Hey! I didn’t think you were coming along,” he greets you, bending over the counter to give you a quick peck. “Hold on a second, hey everyone. I’d like you to meet Carla. And Carla, this is Kelly, that’s Donna, the guy back there is Steve, this is my sister, Brenda, and Y/N, who you met earlier today.” Brandon goes down the line of his friends sitting at the counter, “and this handsome devil is Nat, Mr. Beverly Hills Chi-Chi himself.”

“He might be ugly, but he serves great pie,” Steve cracks.

“It’s an old family recipe. Right out of the box!” Nat guffaws, disappearing into the depths of the kitchen. You look over to Donna and right past Kelly, who’s flipping through a Chick Schneider catalog.

“Brenda, are you sure we can have anything we want?” You ask as Donna passes her extra magazine down to you. You start to go through it, the shiny pages adorned with tons of cute, fashionable, and unreasonably expensive clothes.

“Yeah! Just tell me the color, the size, and it’s yours.”

“God, these baggies are so trendoid,” Kelly giggles.

“Hey Bren, do you think Carla could place an order too?” Brandon shouts, a little further down at the counter with Steve.

“Sure, if she likes Chick Schneider’s stuff!”

“I love Chick Schneider… who’s Chick Schneider?” Carla jokes.

“Thanks for the ride home, Steve,” you unbuckle your seatbelt as he pulls into your driveway

He nods nonchalantly.

“Anytime,” he offers, “you alright? You seemed pretty rattled today.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “Hey, it didn’t rain, no electronics were destroyed, the interior of your car is still in good shape– I’d call this a good day.”

“Don’t change the subject, Y/N/N. Is this about Kelly?”

“This has nothing to do with Kelly! I couldn’t care less about the Kelly thing right now.”

“So it’s Brandon? I thought you two were in chastity belt heaven right now.”

“It’s not him it’s–” you stop yourself short, “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“This is because of that Carla chick, isn’t it?” It isn’t until you shoot Steve a death glare that he knows he hit the nail on the head. “I knew it!”

“No, you didn’t–”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re way hotter than that valley girl and if Brandon has any sense, he knows that too.”

“M.C. Hammer’s office.”

“Hi, M.C. Hammer please.” Another day, another desperate reach for M.C. Hammer.

“Who is this?”

“Well, if I tell you, do you promise not to hang up? Hello?”

“Hey, Scott!” You call out to him, waving him over to your locker.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“What’s going on with D.J. David and M.C. Hammer?” You inquire playfully.

“David wants him to play at the prom,” he snorts.

“There’s no way M.C. Hammer would ever play at a school dance.”

“You know that and I know that. And M.C. Hammer knows that. But unfortunately, I think somebody forgot to tell David.”

You lean against your table in the Blaze’s workshop as Brandon struts in.

“Oh, hey, I need to ask you something!”

“Shoot,” he prompts you, slipping his hands from your waist to your lower back, pulling you close.

“What’s going on with Carla?”

“Y/N.” He removes his hands from you and begins to pull away.

“Not like that, okay? I know there’s nothing going on there. I-I jut5 happened to be in the Register’s Office dropping something off and Carla’s file just happened to be on the counter with her address showing.”

“Y/N,” he stresses.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m a little nosy, okay? And– and you know what? I’ve already forgotten what I saw. I know nothing. Who’s Carla?” He chuckles lightly at your joke.

“I’m glad,” he nods. You tap your fingers against the desk for a moment, pondering.

“Is she living at your house?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to be careful, Brandon! One person getting caught could spiral a major chain reaction. First Carla, then Andrea, then you and I have to duke it out to see who becomes editor-in-chief and I’m sorry but I just don’t think our relationship is strong enough to withstand a battle to the death for that editing position!” His demeanor changes as you finish your facetious rant and he laughs softly into your fist as he raises it up to his lips, kissing it.

“We’ll all be careful, Y/N/N.”

“That’s all I ask, Walsh.”

You nurse on your chocolate milkshake as Brandon walks up to your spot, smiling at you with the sweetest look he can muster.

“Have I mentioned how absolutely radiant you are today? And every day?” You roll your eyes at his saccharine grin.

“You want some of my milkshake, don’t you?” He nods. “I cannot believe you!” you laugh, “You get a discount, I have to pay for mine.”

“Nat puts extra chocolate syrup in yours,” he reasons. You roll your eyes for the second time and lift your cup up to him.

“One sip,” you giggle. He raises the straw up to his lips but stops just shy of them.

“Actually…” In one swift motion, he leans down and brings your lips to his in a soft yet deep kiss. You moan softly as his tongue gently pushes into your mouth, and just as soon he’s pushing away. “I was right. It tastes better that way.”

“Guys, please. I just want to eat my eggs.”

Steve’s voice cuts you both out of your trance, a disgusted, slightly amused look on his face. You have to fight to hold back your laugh as Dylan enters.

“Well, if it isn’t Dylan, the wild surfman!” Brandon greets cheerfully. Dylan’s hair is soaked, but the rest of him is dry as he parks himself next to you.

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t cold out there this morning,” Steve inquires.

“Oh, no, man. It was happening, waves were breaking,” Dylan responds, then he looks pointedly at you, “they missed you.”

“The waves have been totally needy recently, I told them to back off but they just keep calling me,” you do your best valley girl accent as a rebuttal.

“Ha ha ha,” Dylan deadpans a fake laugh, but interrupts with a smile he tries to fight off.

“Hey, that’s the same shirt I ordered from Brenda’s catalog!” Steve notices. Dylan messes with the neckline of his shirt delicately.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to get some baggies tonight. The party’s still on, right?”

“You mean the social event of the season?” Brandon raises an eyebrow, taunting the nature of the event.

“Hey, any event where I can get free designer clothes is an event worth rooting for,” you point a finger at your very accommodating waiter. He kisses your head before picking up your empty plate and moving onto a different group of guests.

“What do you mean I can’t go?!” You shout at your father, who’s sitting on the living room couch with a Reader’s Digest in his hand.

“I mean Jim Walsh is a crude and unfair individual. I will not have you fraternizing with that family!”

“I don’t even know the Walshes! I probably won’t even see them, let alone fraternize with them.” You tap your foot impatiently, “Besides, Steve Sanders invited me. I’ll be hanging out with him all night anyway.” Your father perks up at his name.

“Well…” he flips the tiny page in his book, pondering. “You can go. For an hour. Stay close to Steve… avoid that bastard accountant.” You don’t know what’s worse– your dad trusting Steve or the fact that you could now only refer to Jim Walsh as the “Bastard Accountant.”

You slump against the wall, a fruity mocktail in your hand. You’re watching Brandon talk to Carla in the living room as she flips her hair and gives him a smile. She has a great smile. That makes you sick. You take a swig of your brightly colored drink, trying to let the sweetness of the beverage soothe the built-up frustration in your stomach.

“Y/N and Brandon have been on top of each other non-stop lately. You know, for a couple of virgins, they’re the biggest horn dogs I’ve ever met,” Steve bites half-bitterly, half-jokingly.

“He’s really flipped for her in a major way, huh?” Dylan leans against the fireplace, setting down his soda with a metallic clank. He glances over to you, watching you nurse on your drink as you watch someone else. Every cheesy laugh she gives Brandon makes you just a little bit more nauseous every single time. No one was that funny.

“Definitely.”

Carla gives Brandon one last cheeky smile and it’s your breaking point. You practically slam your martini glass onto the nearest table, turn on your heel, and stomp your way upstairs. Dylan jumps forward, about to follow you up there, but Steve stops him with the back of his hand as he sees Brandon zoom past him.

“He’s got it covered.”

You can hear the rapidly approaching footsteps as you lie on Brandon’s bed, watching the fan swirl around and around and around. You hear the footsteps skid to a stop as he reaches for the door, takes a moment to compose himself, and swings it open.

“What’s goin’ on, Y/N/N?” He sets himself next to you as you sit up, brushing your hand through your hair. As you sit in your total mental breakdown, you can’t help but think how good he looked in that white sweater, how good he always looked. You stare at your feet, and while they looked good, they hurt like a bitch. Time to make the switch to flats. “C'mon, Y/N/N. Talk to me.” You groan.

“Carla follows you around like a puppy and I want to scratch her eyes out.” You indulge bluntly.

“So that’s what this is about? You’re jealous of Carla?”

“You say that like I’m being ridiculous, Brandon, she follows you like a puppy and she’s insanely gorgeous and so smart and y'know, it’s not like I have anything to be jealous of! We never agreed on being exclusive so–”

“Y/N.”

“As far as I’m concerned you’re fair game and–”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You want to know why I think you being jealous of Carla is so ridiculous? Because she’s never going to be you, Y/N/N. When I said I wanted to be with you I meant it. I don’t want Carla, or Kelly, or Farrah Fawcett, or anyone else for that matter. I just want you.” Well, if you weren’t in love with him yet, you were now.

“I wish it could be like this with everyone,” Brandon smiles as you walk into the newsroom, hand in hand.

“Like what?” You ask.

“You know, how we are with each other. Easy, comfortable. Effortless.”

“You’re making our relationship sound like a car rental service,” you tease, “besides, being with you?” You turn your head and give him a chaste kiss, “such a chore.”

“Okay, don’t hang up, just don’t hang up! Now, this is David Silver, the voice of West Beverly High and I really don’t care that he doesn’t want to come to our homecoming dance. Or that he’s one of the top recording and video artists in the world. But at least you could put my call through one time without hanging up! So… having said all that could I please talk to M.C. Hammer?”

“M.C. Hammer? Sorry. Think you have the wrong number.”

You stifle a laugh as to not disrupt the rest of the room, “Anyway… where’s Carla?”

“She went back home, I guess whatever issues she was having were cleared up.”

“Oh,” you feign sadness quite awfully, “That’s… that’s too bad… do you want to go to the movies tonight?”

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

#beverly hills 90210 #bh90210 #bh 90210 #90210 #brandon walsh x reader #brandon walsh #jason priestley #dylan mckay #steve sanders #brenda walsh #kelly taylot #jason priestley x reader #the bh90210 rewrite #east side story

40 notes · View notes

winchester90210 · 4 years

Text

The BH 90210 Rewrite. Bonus #2: The E! True HollyWood Story

Rewrite Masterlist

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

Chapter Summary: E! News has made a documentary on you, following Shannen's. Although it may seem like the full story, remember-- media is still media and there's still things that need to be uncovered. Italics are the narration.

Warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction, sex, adultery, divorce, rumors, tabloids.

Word count: 2,500

A/N: Like the other bonus chapter, this isn't necessary for the rewrite itself, but will supply background knowledge for the reboot! Hope you guys enjoy :)

July 19th, 2008. E! True Hollywood Stories.

America's sweetheart. The girl who played with fire. An old interview of yours pops up on screen, from when you were promoting season 4 on 90210.

"Shannen's a lot more... headstrong than I am, for sure. She gets me in trouble from time to time," you laugh. Y/N Perry. She blew audiences away with her portrayal of Y/N Y/L/N on Beverly Hills, 90210. But she wasn't always the wholesome 90's starlet.

Jason Priestley, "Y/N was one of my best friends. I've never met anyone with a bigger heart." Her romantic and musical exploits made her a tabloid heavyweight. But her friendship with notorious bad girl Shannen Doherty was what made her a target. This is the story of Y/N Perry. The E! True Hollywood Story.

Y/N wasn't always the romantic we knew her to be, but that charming sparkle in her eye quickly became a trademark for her.

June 20th, 1972, Y/N was welcomed to James and Carol Clark's upper-class home.

A man, Kevin McLaren comes on screen with the title "Entertainment Journalist." He speaks, "Y/N was born into a catholic family in Columbus, Ohio, and they had her working in commercials by the time she was eight." Her family then located to Encino, California. From there she joined a Children's drama group where a talent agent immediately took notice. Not long after, she was introduced to TV star, Tom Selleck.

Mary Murphy, senior editor of TV guide, "Selleck sort of... discovered her. Her teacher at the theater group introduced them and he seemed to see something in her. He was her mentor, she really looked up to him. He even got her her first major acting job." She had a 3 year stint on Magnum P.I. as Carol Baldwin's spunky and outspoken niece. She later won the role of Diane Court in the 1989 classic Say Anything, opposite John Cusack which was what began her lift to stardom. The buzz from the romantic comedy hit veteran TV producer Aaron Spelling, who was currently auditioning actors for a new series.

Aaron Spelling, 1993, "We went through hell with casting. It took weeks to pick everyone out. Then, Tori came to me one night talking to me about the lead girl in Say Anything, Y/N Clark. She was telling me "She's perfect, you have to hire her." and I told her uh, we'll see." That show was Beverly Hills, 90210. And in February of 1990, Y/N landed the part of Y/N Y/L/N. But she had originally gone for a different part.

You, an Arsenio interview in 1995, "I was called in to read for Brenda at the beginning, Y/N Y/L/N didn't exist. I didn't get the part obviously, and I was totally crushed. But then a few weeka later my agent called me to let me know that they had written a new character, and they wanted me to play the part. This was after they had filmed the two part pilot, which was why I'm in the second episode." The cast included several unknown actors, including Spelling's daughter Tori, Jennie Garth, Ian Ziering, Luke Perry, Jason Priestley, and established actress and Y/N's soon-to-be best friend, Shannen Doherty. The cast bonded immediately. And while Y/N would continue to become closer with the entire cast, she was instant best friends with Doherty, both of them bonding over their similar family lives and careers.

On October 4th, 1990, Beverly Hills 90210 premiered on the fledgling Fox network. The series clicked immediately with teen audiences, and so did the hot young cast. 17 year old Y/N Clark was center stage. She was a magnet for paparazzi, but she didn't understand how wanted she truly was until leaving a night club with Tori Spelling and Shannen Doherty one night, when they were immediately surrounded. The night was heavily publicized-- magazine covers and gossip columns.

You, 1992 at the red carpet with Tori and Shannen for the MTV Video Music Awards, "Just don't believe everything you read, tabloids are nasty and they only want to twist the truth and bring out the worst in people. They'll dig anywhere they can to get something that shows in the worst light possible." 90210 was becoming the most famous zip code in the country. You, 1992, sitting down for a casual interview on Howard Stern, "I don't think anyone expected the show to take off like it did. No one is quite used to it yet, at least I'm definitely not. On one hand, the attention is flattering and I'm grateful for all the love, but on the other... it's definitely a little scary." 90210 originally centered around the Walsh Family as they tackled their new surroundings. But as the show carried on, it turned into an ensemble show.

Mary Murphy, "They all had different opinions about the switch. Shannen was definitely happier when every episode was going to be about Brandon, Brenda, and Y/N. She didn't like the shift in attention at all, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Y/N, though, wanted to keep to herself and was willing to go where the show took her, wherever that was." During the very beginning of the first season, Clark would become infatuated with castmate Luke Perry, but he immediately rejected her, due to her being barely 18 at the time. Things heated up later for her though, when she and Jason Priestley began dating near the end of filming the first season.

Tori Spelling, for the documentary, "Y/N and Jason were so crazy about each other. It was so sweet. If you ever look at behind the scenes stuff from the show, they're all over each other. I think their chemistry really translates on screen, and that's what made Y/N and Brandon so great."

You, the Today Show, "Our relationship was so wholesome. I was so in love with him. I had been eighteen for a while and he'd just turned 20 or 21, we were total babies back then!"

Jason, "I remember the night we got together. She'd been flirting with uh, Brian-- Brian Austin Green the entire night, it was a cast Christmas party and I was grumpy, unbelievably grumpy. And I couldn't figure out why. Ian Ziering had to pretty much spell it out for me because everyone else knew why and they were pretty fed up. I was head over heels for her from the start."

They would continue to date for almost five years. But romancing Priestley and befriending Doherty would prove to be an unlucky combination for her.

Joe E. Tata, 2001, "When the tabloids got ahold of her and Jason, they had a field day. They followed them on dates, to clubs. Everywhere." Shannen and Y/N continued to fuel the fire with non-stop partying and clubbing.

Kevin McLaren, entertainment journalist, "After working non-stop since she was a child and being 21 and newly exposed to things like drugs, alcohol, sexual freedom, she certainly fell prey to it all." 1993 was just on the horizon. But little did she know it would become her most dramatic year yet.

Charles Rosin, producer of 90210, "We do know, during 90210, when there was a lot of coverage on the tabloids that we had people in our own crew spreading stories and feeding them information."

Jason Priestley, 2001, "It was horrible. We felt so violated. I remember Y/N/N being absolutely destroyed. And that made me feel awful, because there was nothing I could do, nothing she could do. We had to sit there and take it all."

Clark would continue to be slammed with press, her partying habits only elevating as the tabloids became more and more vicious. Rumors of her being pregnant with other castmates babies, cheating on Jason Priestley, sex tapes, and an oxycodone addiction.

You, filming an MTV interview, 1998, "Media loves to make you and break you. They build you up, and they tear you down twice as hard. It's... ridiculous. But it comes with the job description, I guess. For a while I just felt like I couldn't do anything right." Her frequent club nights came to a crashing halt, as Jason Priestley became fed up with it, and managers and agents became worried of her further tarnishing of her good girl image.

Jennie Garth, "Her and Jason were a real fireball together. Jason adored her, so when he saw her start to spin out of control he gave her an ultimatum. Either she settles down and stays away from the party scene, or he leaves. She was crazy in love with him, so she had no other choice." But her image and her drama didn't stop her from bonding closely with yet another co-worker. Luke Perry. Despite being rejected early on, Y/N maintained a friendly close relationship with Luke and as those two became closer, so did their characters.

Heidi Parker, Playboy, "Y/N, Jason, and Luke were very close. Although Y/N got along with everyone, those boys loved her, and she loved them. It was a really strong, intimate friendship. Despite Jason and Y/N being in love, that didn't stop people from insisting Luke and Y/N were seeing each other. I mean, when you saw them on screen, it was completely electric and everyone caught wind of that. It spawned some awful rumors. This girl hadn't done a thing to anyone, but her mere association with Doherty was what dragged her in to begin with. Y/N was known for being a total sweetheart on set, yet she was still getting pummeled. It got out of control. Everyone who knew her loved her and everyone who read about her hated her."

At the end of 1996, Jason and Y/N parted ways. After almost 5 years of dating, Y/N moved out of their shared condo and into a Beverly Hills apartment with Tori Spelling.

Jill Ishkanian, US Weekly, "Everyone was surprised when they split. They had talked marriage, they had talked kids. But she left him after they had gotten in a fight about Shannen. Jason did not want Shannen around as often as she was and Y/N wasn't willing to let Shannen go that easily. She was Shannen's main support system, especially with all of her relationship struggles. Two failed marriages, a handful of abusive relationships. Y/N was the only stable thing she had. So, she dumped him, packed her things and left." Y/N went on a few dates with Ian Ziering a few months after, but they quickly decided they were better as friends and they kept it professional from there on out.

You, late night with David Letterman, 2000, "Oh, everyone hooked up with everyone. I definitely wasn't one to stray from that. We were so young, everyone was so attractive on that show, I mean it was kind of inevitable."

Clark and Spelling would live together for two years, with Spelling being a shoulder to lean on during the fallout.

You, 1996, "Look, it's not a pretty scene for anyone and I really just need... privacy right now. It would be great if people could stop asking me about it." As the couple fought in real life, so did their characters.

Jennie Garth, "When Jason and Y/N broke up it was chaos. There was a good period where they didn't even want to be near each other, let alone make out all day at work, y'know? They weren't exactly fighting, but they wanted nothing to do with the other, they were miserable. Luke had been gone at that point and the producers were freaking out because they had planned out this whole thing with Brandon and Y/N and they had to scrap it, because with them butting heads it just wouldn't work. So they switched gears and had their characters fight too. I think it was just cathartic enough to get them close again." They repaired their damaged relationship slowly but surely, just in time for things to heat up with Clark and ANOTHER 90210 alumni.

In the winter of 1997, Y/N and Luke Perry embarked down a romantic path, sharing their first kiss at Tori Spelling's casual New Years Eve party with their friends and families.

Tori Spelling, "When they started dating it was like everything fell into place. It dawned on everyone how perfect they were for each other, I know Jason wasn't thrilled about it, but we were all genuinely happy for them."

Jennie Garth comes onto the screen. "Luke and Y/N/N have always made sense to me. They're both very humble, well rounded people. And they always had this really flirty element to them from the start, I'm surprised it took that long," she laughs. A year and a half later, they tied the knot with a small private ceremony at their shared home in Beverly Hills, California. Costing only $20,000, it was the cheapest wedding of all of the 90210 clan's. And in June of 1999 they welcomed their first child, a baby girl, Sophie. Selling their 3 million dollar home, they moved into a 6 million dollar house outside of Hollywood, accidentally moving in next to none other than Jason Priestley.

Thankfully that caused no serious drama between the two families. But the finale of Beverly Hills, 90210 caused a stir that no one could have expected. Priestley made a surprise guest appearance that reportedly caused more drama off screen than on.

Jennie Garth, MTV, 2000, "It's so ridiculous. Everything was just weirdly timed. Jason being on the show had nothing to do with his divorce and it has nothing to do with Y/N's pregnancy, either. People love to make stuff up and cause drama that wasn't there to begin with and it's probably so exhausting for her."

Shortly after appearing on 90210, Priestley filed for divorce, ending his 8 month long marriage. Around the same time, the Perrys announced their second pregnancy. Tabloids began to say that Y/N had caused the divorce and that she was secretly pregnant with Priestley's baby.

Tori Spelling, "Those were so awful and so fake. Her son is a carbon copy of Luke, I'd be floored if Jason was the father..." "I think that part of Jason will always be in love with her... and that shined through in the finale a little bit and that's what people are picking up on. But her and Luke are soulmates. She has a good head on her shoulders, a lot of integrity."

Shannen Doherty, the Rosie O'Donnel Show, 1997, "Y/N's my best friend in the entire world, we went to Ireland together last summer and everything. Yeah, her and I have always been close."

Jennie Garth, "She's incredibly intelligent, super funny. Easily one of the strongest women I know."

Join us tomorrow when we air Tori Spelling: The E! True Hollywood Story. Only on E!

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

#beverly hills 90210 #bh90210 #90210 #rewrite #jason priestley #jason priestley x reader #bh90210 imagine #jennie garth #tori spelling #luke perry #jason priestley imagine #shannem doherty #90queue10 #beverly hills 90210 rewrite

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winchester90210 · 5 years

Text

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

43 notes · View notes

winchester90210 · 5 years

Text

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

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. - Ch. 1: Baby’s First Pilot

What’s a rewrite? A rewrite is taking the show already written and inserting your new character/s and their storylines into it. 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. But in this case, I’m going further than the episodes that are there and adding my own, both to make the story flow more cohesively and because I enjoy writing it!

Chapter Summary: West Bev gains a new student, the Walshes gain a new friend.

Pairing: No one…yet.

Chapter Warnings: A few swear words, other than that nothing!

Word Count: roughly 1,500

Disclaimer: my work is not to be reposted in anyway without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging Is fine!)

Song: None this chapter! if there is, I’ll put it here with a link to the audio from youtube. If it goes with a specific part of the chapter, I’ll put a symbol to let you know when.

A/N: Tags are under the cut! This is just a little intro chapter, once we move on from the reader’s pilot we’ll delve into the series starting with The Green Room! (1×02)

November 9th, 1990

“And if you go down to the Guidance Office, Brenda Walsh will be there to give you a tour.”

“Right. Okay. And the Guidance Office is…” You trail off, cocking your eyebrow at the principal.

“Down the hall, take the first left. It should be the first door on your right,” he continues, “Welcome to West Beverly High, Ms. Y/L/N.” You give him a smile and make your way down to the office. Down. Left. Right. Got it. As you walked down the hall you could swear every person looked straight from an issue of Vogue. Opening the door with a squeak, you see a girl with long, dark, brown hair and meticulously styled bangs. Hopefully, not everyone would look this perfect. Right? You became painfully aware of your own appearance, quickly messing with your hair and straightening your clothes. You spent an hour and a half getting ready this morning, and that’s after you picked your outfit. To say you were nervous about looking good enough was an understatement.

“Hey! You must be Y/N,” she smiles, standing from her chair.

“And you’re Brenda?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m here to show you around. The classes, the offices, the cutest guys,” Brenda began, a smirk on her face, “We can walk through your schedule first though. Later I’ll show you to the quad, that’s where me and my friends usually hang out.” You nod, a nervous glint in your eye. Brenda seems to pick up on the way you’re chewing your lip and fidgeting with your hands and adds “They’re totally cool, don’t worry. My brother Brandon can be incredibly annoying but other than that they’re great.”

“Oh, you have a brother? Older, younger?” You ask, following her as she starts to make her way through the halls to your classes. She introduces each room as she goes. You stay slightly behind her, being careful not to bump into anyone as you weave through. You could feel the intensity as soon as you stepped into the school, like you could make one false move and end up committing social suicide before you even got started. You saw the thousand dollar jackets, the shoes, the dresses, the way everyone carried themselves. It was like a false sense of arrogance, the good in them screaming, wanting to get out, rid themselves of the materialistic trap they found themselves in. Or maybe that was just you. You caught their stares, the way they eyed you up and down. They seemed to pick up on the fact you were new very quickly. How? Was it your hair? Your clothes? You’re dragged out of your thoughts from Brenda’s response.

“Twins, actually…although he likes to act like he’s my older brother,” She says. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Um, I have an older brother, Eric.” You pause before saying, “He’s more of a…free spirit.” You make small talk with Brenda until you reach your first period, learning little things about each other as you go. You tell her you’re from Wisconsin, you learn she moved down from Minnesota not too long ago. You feel the tension in your body go away the more you talk with her. It comes back though, geared into full swing as soon as you walk into class. Your hands are shaky, balancing yourself onto the wood desk and setting your backpack next to you. Sitting down, you gaze at the room. It’s covered in maps and pictures of places in Europe you couldn’t identify. The bell rings and students file into the room. Thankfully, it’s a smaller class for 11th grade World History. Here goes nothing.

The teacher gives a small lecture and hands out worksheets, a true or false quiz on the Spanish Empire. While you’re zoned into the quiz, two boys behind you murmur.

“Hey. Bran. Do you recognize that girl?” A boy, his head adorned with blond curls whispers, gesturing to you with a head nod. However, you don’t notice, too preoccupied with finishing and passing your first quiz at your new school.

The other boy shakes his head, “No, ‘she new?”

“She must be, I’m pretty sure I would remember her.”

“Yeah, no kidding…” They both pause, looking to you for a moment. Brandon continues his thought with a whisper, “Dibs.”

“Dude, come on!” Steve’s voice rang out in a whine, startling you. What was his problem?

“Steve Sanders.” She scolds. “Do we have to have this talk again?” You follow the teacher’s gaze behind you, and sparkling blue eyes meet yours, paired with coiffed dirty blond hair, and a denim outfit. He gives you a smile and you flash him your own, all while Steve tries to fend off the teacher.

“No, ma'am. I’ll be quiet, ma'am. Sorry. It won’t happen again… ma'am.” Brandon looks at you, both of you holding back rounds of giggles at Steve’s flustered retort.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The rest of the class is peaceful, all of you silently doing your work. And while peaceful, there’s still a mischievous air in the room, you and Brandon catching glances at each other while you think the other person isn’t looking. You finish up your sheet and turn it in at the front of the room. Your shoes squeak a little too loudly, attracting a few stares as you walk back to your desk to pack up your things. You cringe at the sound but try to brush it off. The bell finally rings, but when you go to walk out you’re stopped in your tracks.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Well, that’s a way to talk to someone you’ve never met, I guess. You eye him up suspiciously. “I’m Sanders,” he takes an unneeded dramatic pause, “Steve Sanders.” You watch his friend from earlier roll his eyes and chuckle at his friend’s cocky introduction. You want to laugh too. Are you supposed to laugh? Is this Steve guy kidding? Cause he had to be. But what if he wasn’t? What if this is just him? Compose yourself, Y/N! Deep breath. In. Out.

You take a breath and speak, “So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah? You’ve heard about me?” His smirk is dripping with arrogance as he talks, leaning into you.

“Yeah like, literally just now…when the teacher totally grilled you?” You let out a laugh that time, holy shit. This guy was serious.

“Hey! She didn’t grill me, okay? She was just trying to act like she was in charge. It’s her job.” You study his face as he defends himself. Huh. He would be cute if he wasn’t being such a jackass, you think.

You sigh, “Look, I have a class to go to, and someone’s waiting for me. Sorry, Steve.” Apologizing, you slip past him and into the hallway.

“Good effort out there, Steve-o,” Brandon laughs, giving Steve a pat on the back and grabbing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Oh, there you are!” Brenda calls out, grabbing Brandon on the arm and pulling him outside of the class. “The girl I’m showing around is going to work on the West Beverly Blaze next period. Can you go with her? Kelly needs me, so I can’t. Wardrobe malfunction. It’s a total disaster.” Pleading eyes are shot Brandon’s way.

He hesitates for a moment but says “Yeah, alright…bring me to her and I can get her there.” His sister’s face immediately lights up, a grin on her face.

“Yes! Thank you! I owe you!” And with that, she’s dragging him over to you while you look over your schedule. “Y/N! This is Brandon, I told you about him earlier,” she starts. And then you lock eyes with him for the second time that morning and it’s as if time stops. Your stomach churns, feeling the butterflies wreaking havoc, fluttering around. And something about the way he shifts on his feet, messes with his hands, and has a goofy smile on his face tells you he’s just as uneasy as you are. Hopefully a good kind of uneasy. “Brandon? Y/N? Hello??” She had never seen her brother like this. He had always been a natural with girls. Cool and confident. But right now he was flustered, giddy even. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like this either. Maybe it was the anxiety of a new school, he thought. He just felt so…awkward.

“Oh, sorry, uh…nice to meet you, Brandon,” you smile and hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.” Shaking your hand, he continues “Brenda wants to me to show you to the journalism room.” Before you get to respond, Brenda is already darting off without a word. You cock your head at the sight of Brenda bolting down the halls while Brandon just shakes his head and laughs.

“So, shall we?”

tag list: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines

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winchester90210 · 5 years

Text

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 · 5 years

Text

Housewarming - Jason Priestley One Shot/Drabble

Summary: Jason and the reader decide to make the most of their new home.

Requested by: Anon

Ask for Older Jason Priestley and thou shalt recieveth!

Warnings: Swearing, smut-adjacent stuff, cheesy stuff, making out, little to no plot, sprinkling of Fluff, first time writing anything resembling smut. Probably more PG-13 than Rated R.

Sorry it's so short! I'm really new at the whole writing makeouts thing, so it took way longer than expected. (And then my computer glitched and deleted the last half, so I had to rewrite it) Hope you enjoy! :)

You flop down on your couch with a satisfied sigh, admiring your newly furnished home.

"We are..." Jason begins, placing a lamp on the side table, "Officially moved in!" He walks over to you, who's lying flat on the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Breaking the new couch in," you smile mischievously.

"I think I can help with that," He smirks, bending down to kiss you. You pull him down on top of you, combing your fingers through his hair. He moves his lips down to your neck, drawing breathy gasps from your lips. He leans back, taking you with him. Your hands wrap around his neck as you kiss him, feeling his hands snake up your back to the zipper of your sundress. You stradde his lap as the sleeves of your dress fall down your arms. "You're so beautiful, y'know that?"

Your smile is interrupted by the moan that leaves your mouth, Jason attacking you with kisses. On your neck, your shoulder, your jaw. Wherever he can get to, he goes. His scruff tickles your skin, your body ignited. Your breath hitches in your throat when he kisses that spot on your neck. One kiss, you were toast.

"I love you," You simper breathlessly. He leans up, giving a smile to you. He places a soft kiss on your lips before he stands up, lifting you and trotting into your new bedroom.

"The bed needs to get broken in too," He shrugs, smirk on his face. Dropping you onto the bed gently, he undoes his belt, it hitting the floor with a thwack. Unbuttoning his shirt, you kiss down the length of his jaw drawing a groan from him. Once his shirt is removed, he gazes at you fondly. "How did I get so lucky?" His voice is breathless and soft. You trail a hand down his chest. A passionate, earth shattering kiss is what comes next. You felt like you could do this forever, be here forever. You lie down on your back, looking at your lover. All you could think was, wow. You were the lucky one. He was sexy, kind, and you were the one that got to be with him. Your thoughts were shut up by the turning off of the lamp and him pouncing vivaciously, his lips going straight to your neck. Your eyes flutter closed as he got to work. This new house was shaping up to be a very smart purchase.

#jason priestley x reader #jason priestley imagine #jason priestley #bh90210 #beverly hills 90210 #beverly hills 90210 x reader #beverly hills 90210 imagine #90210 #brandon walsh #brandon walsh x reader #brandon walsh imagine #private eyes

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winchester90210 · 5 years

Text

Dating Brandon Walsh would include...

- Originally meeting him at the peach pit

- Constantly flirting with each other

- Staying until the pit was closed one night

- Him finally working up the courage to kiss you

- Being best friends with Brenda and Kelly

- Steve being "grossed out" any time you guys showed PDA

- Him being head over heels in love with you

- Him actually getting shy around you

- Forehead kisses

- Head kisses

- Game nights that always end up with you asleep on the couch with him

- Always being checked on by Jim and Cindy during them

- Lots of Peach Pit dates.

- what a total gentleman

- He tries to impress you at the beach

- But of course he can't surf

- So later he gets Dylan to train him

- He's still not very good

- but it's sweet that he tries, and you appreciate the effort

- Being totally in love with him

- Because who isn't?

- He would definitely have some drafts of love letters sitting around somewhere

- Though he would never admit it

- Brenda finding one

- and of course, forever using that as blackmail or leverage when she needs it

- Having to stay in Brenda's room during sleepovers

- Talking to Brandon through the landlines all night

- Making out in his car

- Your parents loving how well-mannered and kind he is

- But they still make you stay in eye sight of them when he's around

- Bringing him to your house when your parents are out of town

- Hanging out with Steve and Dylan at the pit while you wait for Brandon to get off work

- Shopping with Brenda, Donna, and Kelly

- Double dates with Dylan and Brenda

- Eating lunch with the group in the quad

- Occasional arguments

- He’s your #1 protector

- He doesn't have much of a temper, but when anything or anyone is threatening your safety?

- watch out

- Messing up his hair

- Him getting revenge by messing up yours

- The Walshes taking you in whenever you need them

#Brandon walsh #bh90210 #beverly hills 90210 #brandon walsh x reader #brandon walsh imagine #jason priestley #jason priestley imagine #jason priestley x reader #beverly hills 90210 x reader #beverly hills 90210 imagine #90queue10

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winchester90210 · 4 years

Text

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

#beverly hills 90210 #90210 #bh90210 #bh 90210 #rewrite #brandon walsh x reader #brandon walsh #brenda walsh #shannen doherty #luke perry #dylan mckay #beverly hills 90210 imagine #beverly hills 90210 x reader #brandon walsh imagine #kelly taylor #david silver #donna martin #jason priestley

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winchester90210 · 4 years

Text

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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