Bellarke Oneshots and Prompts

Meet the Parents

Imagine person A of your OTP insisting on meeting person B's parents for the longest time. When person B finally accepts, they drive person A out to the grave(s). Person A sits next to the grave(s) and talks about how well person B turned out, how much they love them and how grateful they are for them, as well as thanking them for person B's existence/life.

"Come on, Bel. It's been almost a year we've been dating. We've been friends for two. And I still haven't met your parents," Clarke whined.

"There's no need for you to meet them. Why do you need to?" he asked in return, for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

"It's just something you do. You've met my mom," she pointed out.

"Only because I was in the hospital and she was my doctor," he retorted.

"Bel, pleaaaaase?" Clarke begged, dragging it out. Bellamy sighed, finally giving in. It was time.

"Fine. I'll pick you up at seven," he agreed, and Clarke's face lit up.

"Seven it is."

---

Bellamy arrived at Clarke's house at precisely 6:58, knocking on the apple red door four times. Abby answered, giving him an uncertain smile. "I hear Clarke is going to see your parents," she said, eyebrow raised. Bellamy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"She sure is," he told her, face turning into a smile as Clarke appeared in the doorway. "Hey Princess. You're all dolled up to meet my parents?" he asked, taking her hand. The blonde smiled.

"I figure I should make a good first impression," she shrugged, and Abby pursed her lips.

"Well, good luck," she said as she closed the door behind them, giving Bellamy a pointed look.

He opened the passenger door for her, listening to her chatter nervously about what was going to happen.

"Do you think they'll like me? Is this too much?" she asked as he got in the car, gesturing to her flowery dress. It didn't look like her at all, but she was beautiful regardless.

"It's perfect. They would like you no matter what," he replied, earning a brilliant smile.

They drove for twenty agonizing minutes, for Clarke at least, before they slowed down and entered a cemetery. Clarke thought nothing of it; perhaps his parents were caretakers.

She became uneasy when he parked toward the side of the yard, opening his own door to get out before going around to her side. He seemed rather reserved, but a bit anxious to her, as if he were afraid of what she would do. Taking her hand, he led her down a short pathway and stopped in front of a granite headstone. It was simple, reading both of their names and birthdays enclosed in separate hearts but joined by marriage rings in the middle. Below was the date September 11, 2001 in a clear but elegant script.

Clarke stared at the stone for a moment before looking up at Bellamy. She realized everything at once--why he had refused so many times to allow her to meet them, why he lived alone, why he always referred to them in the past tense. It made sense now.

She took a seat behind the headstones, pulling Bellamy gently along. She held his hand as she began to speak, looking into his eyes.

"Bellamy Blake...I am so damn proud of you. You've been through so much, and you haven't really had anyone to help you through it. I can't imagine how much you miss them. But you are still the sweetest, gentlest man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, despite everything. You've always looking out for Octavia, kept her safe. And your parents would have been so happy to see you now. Thank you for living as such a wonderful human being. I love you so much," Clarke confessed before pulling herself into his lap to wrap her arms around him. She squeezed gently before letting go, looking up to see his reaction.

He was stoic for only a few moments before he broke, a light smile gracing his lips in appreciation of her words. "Thank you, Clarke. I really...appreciate your words," he told her, groping for the right words himself.

"I love you Bel. You can always talk to me."

"I love you too." Bellamy pecked her on the forehead before standing, taking her with him. "Let's go grab lunch. Nothing more to talk about here." He gestured to the graves, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

"You're the worst."

"Don't you forget it."