This will be a series of one shots that could have happened if the writers of the show didn't like to rip our hearts out and stomp on them. Expect an alive Lexa(because the commander will never be dead. I will not accept it) and lots of parenting shenanigans from the whole group. Set about ten-twelve years after the events of the show. This is my way of coping with the endless heartbreak this show has given me and the withdrawls til' season five. I've never done a Y/N story...but I thought it might be easier for you guys to connect with that instead of me creating another OC.
Rain pours down on the village Arcadia, the sky lighting up with bright strikes of lightning and thunder shaking the peaceful ground.
It's late, far later then the time that he's usually home when Bellamy stumbles, dripping wet, through the front door, attempting to keep quiet to not wake up the girls.
Y/N would kill him if she had to put them down twice
Y/N ...He suddenly feels the need to see her, to lay down next to her in their bed, in their home that they'd built together.
After nearly a decade, Bellamy is still stupidly in love with his wife. He's struck by the thought as walks into their room where's she's still awake; illuminated by the faint light of the oil lamp on the bedside table as she fingers through a book.
He doesn't realize how long he's been standing there- just watching her until she looks up, her green eyes dancing.
"Are you ever going to get into bed?"
He doesn't need to be asked twice, he manages to strip down to only his boxers and muscle shirt without falling over...he almost face plants when his clunky work boots get caught in his cargo pants and she rises from her spot a little, mildly concerned.
Extremely amused.
"You're soaked. It's pouring out there" She brushes a piece of damp hair that was sticking to his forehead away when he plops down beside her ungracefully. "Bell, are you drunk?"
"Drunk? No..I had a few drinks after work with Clarke and the other guys, but I'm fine. I'm tipsy, at the most"
She knows him. Better then he knows himself and he is most definitely drunk.
Even if she hadn't memorized everything about him like the back of her hand, he was slurring. His happy brown eyes glazed.
"If you say so" She continues reading and he scrunches his nose, upset at the lack of attention. He throws his arm around her and squeezes himself close to her.
"Babe!" She doesn't sound exasperated, if anything she thinks this whole thing is hilarious. As long as he doesn't wake up the kids, she can deal with her inebriated man.
"Mmm, I missed you today" He's pressing kisses up her arm, her shoulder, resting his chin there as he looks up at her.
"I missed you too" She looks down at him fondly, grinning when he puckers his lips and closes his eyes, non verbally demanding she kisses him.
Who is she to deny him.
She reaches down and pecks him on the lips sweetly before retreating.
He sighs. She was still as much of a tease as she was the day he'd met her.
He takes the book out of her hands and tosses it so that it clatters across the room.
"Bellamy if you wake them up I'm going to f*cking kill-"
He's grabbed her though, and sat up so that he leans over her so that he can press his lips to her plump ones deeply.
A real kiss. The kind that made her groan and nip at his bottom lip as he rubs his forehead against hers and his hands start to wander.
"Mmm...what do you think youre doing" She asks coyly as his rough, calloused hand begins to trail up her soft thigh, under her night gown.
"Y/N, let's have another baby"
She hadn't been expecting that one and she laughs hard in his mouth before turning her head away, breaking the kiss.
He pouts and tries to reclaim her lips but she just juts her head, avoiding his lips.
"Are you insane? Another one?"
She tries to wiggle out of his arms but he holds her tight with a devious smirk and begins to pepper pecks along her exposed chest.
Her nightgown wasn't very modest at all.
"Come on, love, it will be fun" Bellamy insists.
"Hah, four kids will be fun?...unhhh" He nips that spot on her neck that he knows makes her eyes cross. Not fair.
"Well, making the baby will be fun"
They both are laughing, and writhing on their bed, half in the process of taking each others clothes off and half just playing with eachother when an extremely loud crack of thunder shakes the house and makes them both go still.
Bellamy's head lifts from her stomach where he had been blowing raspberries in and their ears peel.
It doesn't take long. They hear the cry come from the other room and the pitter patter of feet. Y/N sits up, quickly readjusting her sleep shift as Bellamy gets out of bed and pads out of the room, his boxers hanging how on his hips. She watches his muscular back with a faint smile, already knowing what was coming.
He doesn't come back to the room alone. He has both Quinn, their five year old, and Iris, their one and a half year old in his strong arms. Ivy, the middle child, ever so independent walks on her own. Her little legs start to spring, though, when another thunderclap quakes the cabin. She jumps up on the bed and Y/N catches her, pulling her close.
"Mama!"
"Shh, Ivy, it's just rain. It's okay, baby" Y/N whispers as she strokes the young girls dark hair. Ivy looks the most like Bellamy; she's a near twin to her aunt Octavia.
In personality as well. It wasn't very often she needed to be held. Usually she was running off, neither of her parents could ever catch her
Bellamy comes back to the bed with the two girls and they all do a sort of adjustment, limbs jutting. Arms and legs tangling, as the family of four settles, as comfortably as you can with three children under the age of six, into the large mattress.
Bellamy is on his back, propped against the pillows with Iris flailed across his chest. The toddler has her face in his clavicle and is still calming down from being woken up so abruptly, small sobs shaking her body as Bellamy presses his nose into the top of her head and whispers soft, soothing nothings into her chocolate brown hairline. Quinn is in between Bellamy and Y/N, along with Ivy, closer to her father. Pressed right up against his side. She'd always been a daddy's girl, but she revels in the comforting touch of her mother as she lays on Y/N's arm and her mother plays with her hair idly.
"It's okay, little ones. It's just rain, nothing to be scared of"
"Tell us that story, mama, the one about the giant and how he cried so much he caused a flood" Quinn request, her big green eyes pleading.
It wasn't what Y/N had wanted, she'd just wanted to finish her book 'The Ides of Psychology' and call it a night but as she looks over the faces of each piece of her hear, lying in the bed with her, she feels her chest expand as the rain pounds the roof and batters the windows.
"Well, you see, that's why we try to keep Giants happy, why you leave them little presents on Samhain, because when they get sad they cry. An awful lot. And their tears are just as big as they are" Y/N starts, her voice melodic as it weaves the intricate story.
The way her mouth forms around the words is something like quicksand. She could have been speaking about anything; directions to Polis or tilling fields but the way she says it is like a symphony.
One that lulls all of her children to sleep.
Including Bellamy, who knocks out first, his wheezing snores easing little Iris back to sleep. Ivy's next, her mouth open and her hand still clutching Y/N's night gown. Quinn fights to stay awake. So listen to the whole story, like she always does.
"But Aunt Clarke says there are no Giants. That it's not logical or possible" the six year old argues, her voice hazy, she's half asleep and Y/N has to bite on her laugh. Leave it to Clarke to be logical with children.
"Aunt Clarke fell from the sky. Anything is possible, Quinn"
She's out too, not long after that. Y/N is the last one down, as per usual and detangles her hand from Quinn's hair so that she can stretch over, ever so carefully in an attempt not to wake anyone up, and turn out the oil lamp.
She closes her eyes then and rests an arm over both girls, so that her palm is resting on an open area of Bell's chest, nuzzling in close to her babies and basking in their warmth.
She's nearly asleep when Bellamy's gruff, sleep ridden whisper breaks the silence.
"Love you, pretty eyes"
"I love you too, you big stupid idiot. Goodnight"
Rewatching The 100 and I realizing that I will never, ever, get over Bellamy Blake. He is a precious summer child that deserves all the love. And how much more love could he ever get, then he would have if he had three little girls? He's was always so good to Octavia that the thought of him as a dad really inspired me. My heart can barley take the overload of emotions.