for @cordelia-stark-jones hope you like this honey!
AN: Quiet doesn’t necessarily mean shy or cowardly, and the reader has just about enough of being underestimated like that.
Characters: John Murphy, Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, OC Delinquents
Pairing: Murphy x reader
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Canon non-compliant
“Morning House Mouse,” Bellamy called as he walked past you and into the dropship, “still not talking I see?”
You rolled your eyes fondly at the older man and went back to work cataloguing all of Clarke’s medical supplies.
“She talks, Bellamy.” Clarke reminded, “She just doesn’t talk to you.”
“Or Mbege, or Atom or Finn or literally anyone who isn’t you.” Bellamy corrected without any real malice.
Things were quiet and peaceful at camp for once, and neither of your leaders were particularly keen on ruining that with more pointless squabbling. Bellamy took his usual seat, lounging on the makeshift couch next to the door, and began giving Clarke his report on the repairs of the wall, namely that progress was slow but it wasn’t a complete waste.
You tuned this conversation out and went back to cataloguing, humming to yourself absentmindedly as you worked. Soon enough, the sound of someone approaching broke you out of your reverie and a familiar face made its way into the dropship.
“Morning Oh Fearless Leaders,“ John Murphy crooned, giving you a sideways smile as he did, “morning Y/N, you’re looking lovely today.”
You blushed and shook your head, “Morning Murphy, still being a complete menace?”
Bellamy choked on his water as sat up, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Seemingly at a loss for words, he pointed between you and Murphy, his eyes watering from the choking.
“You spoke!” he eventually exclaimed, “You spoke! She spoke-did you he-she spoke!” he turned to Murphy, “You made her speak.”
Murphy shrugged and gave you an exaggerated wink. You giggled and went back to your work mumbling ‘menace’ under your breath as you did.
“I told you,” Clarke smiled, “she does talk, just not to you.”
Bellamy made an indignant noise and began to argue with Clarke. You tuned this out as well, too used to this kind of good natured debate to be really worried. Murphy leant his elbows on the counter you were working on and watched for a while. This also wasn’t unusual, but you’d never quite gotten used to looking up and having him so close, it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once.
“You’d think that by now they would’ve just given up and had sex, huh?” he commented casually, gesturing to Bellamy and Clarke with his head.
You made the mistake of looking up and regretted it as soon as his ice-blue eyes met yours and your face flushed bright red again.
Embarrassed, you looked back down and shrugged, “I thought Clarke and Finn were a thing.”
“Oh, they are.” Murphy continued, effortlessly cool and collected, as usual, “but some things are just inevitable. Finn’s too…goody goody for Clarke. She’ll eventually get bored of him and then, voila, the Bellarke moment we’ve all been waiting for.”
You snorted and looked up again, “Bellarke?”
“Yeah, Bellarke,” Murphy explained, leaning closer, ”Bellamy and Clarke, Bellarke. Come on, that’s pretty clever, right?”
You weighed the options in your mind before giving John a bright smile to signify that you agreed.
“Knew you’d see things my way.” He said, obviously pleased, “Listen, come find me later yeah? I feel like you and I haven’t spent much time together recently.” He looked down and, for the first time, looked nervous, scratching the table with his nails to avoid making eye-contact, “I miss you.”
You tried not to smile at that, but put your hand on his comfortingly, “I’ve missed you too. As soon as I’m done we’ll hang out okay? Just like old times.”
Murphy smiled and rapped the wood of the table with his knuckles as he left. You tried to put his smile out of your mind as you worked, chuckling every time Bellamy or Clarke made a particularly witty comment.
The day passed quickly enough and, eventually you relented and began to talk to Bellamy, which made him almost comically happy. He was good company, Bellamy Blake, quick to laugh and generous with his humour, and before long it felt as though you’d always been friends.
“So,” he eventually asked, “what’s with the whole Not Talking thing you do?”
You shrugged, “People tend to be more honest when they think you’ll never tell anyone their secrets.” You admitted, “So I let people believe I’m mute. The more they underestimate me, the safer and more powerful I become.”
“Is that so?” Bellamy asked
“Oh, most definitely,” you assured, “You wouldn’t believe all the things I know about the people in this camp.”
The ground was damp beneath your feet when you finally left the dropship. The sound of laughter and the steady hum of movement wrapped around you like a blanket and it was, after all this time, a comforting sound. It had been almost two months since the grounder attack and, in that time, the camp had grown strong again.
You stopped and leant your head back so that the heat of the evening sun could leach into your skin and warm your bones. John had always said that you were bred for the cold, that your bones were made of ice and your blood ran a few degrees colder than anyone else’s, but in reality you liked the sun more than most. You were still and silent, but you weren’t really cold, not by nature. You’d learned to listen and bide your time the hard way, and you refused to apologise for it.
John said that that was part of your charm and that your silence made everything you said more important. When you’d first been shoved roughly into a cell, it’d been John Murphy who’d comforted you. He’d made sure that you were fed and treated properly and he’d never pushed you to talk before you were ready to, nor mocked you for your silence. You’d loved him for that.
Suddenly, you heard the bark of cruel laughter that singled out Roberto, a bully who’d had it out for Murphy since his banishment.
“Still here are you, traitor?” the boy spat, something glinting evilly in his hand.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Murphy said quietly.
Your heartrate increased as you strode towards the boys. John was surrounded, five of Roberto’s cronies formed a loose circle around him and, as far as you could see, Murphy had nothing to defend himself with.
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you sold us out to the grounders then, shouldn’t you?” one of the others sneered.
“Yeah, we lost a lot of good people thanks to you. From where I’m sitting, it seems like we’d be justified just slitting your throat right now.” Roberto threatened.
Quick as a flash, someone had Murphy’s arms pinned behind his back and Roberto had a knife pressed to John’s throat. You pushed your way into the circle, which broke before you out of pure shock. You put your hand on Roberto’s arm. Murphy’s eyes flicked to yours quickly, filled with panic.
“Stay out of this Ghost Girl,” a boy warned.
“Let him go,” you said, letting your voice ring out through the camp, “let him go or I swear to God I’ll snap you in two.”
For a long moment the boys just stared at you in shock.
“Oh? And how would you manage that?” Roberto asked, his voice quivering lightly. He was afraid, merely because you were such a mystery.
“Quite easily I should think.” You answered, “After all I did kill two guards. It took another four to take me down.” You explained, “One girl against six grown men. Would any of you like to see how you’d fare?”
Without another word, the boys dispersed, and Murphy was safe. You felt your body relax and you pulled the boy into a tight hug.
Murphy squeezed you tight, laughing with relief, “You’re amazing, you’re absolutely amazing.”
“Are you alright?” you asked after you released him, “Did they hurt you at all?”
“No, no, I’m alright.” He promised, “Thanks to you. Y/N, honestly you’re the most awe-inspiring person I’ve ever known.”
“You didn’t think I’d let them hurt you, did you?”
Murphy’s eyes softened and, for a long moment, he looked sad.
“They’re right though, all those people who died; they died because of me.” He said softly.
You shook your head, “Murph, they died because the grounders killed them, not because of you.”
“The grounders killed them because I told them how to. Their deaths are on my shoulders.”
“It’s in the past,” You promised, cupping the boy’s cheek with your hand and making his breath pause in his throat, “please, stop tearing yourself apart over it. What’s important now is that we fight for what we have left.”
“What do I have left?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
You thought for a moment, “You have me.”
“Yes, and I have you, don’t I?” you continued, feeling your heart beat like a kick drum in your chest.
John nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips, “You’ve always had me. Every day, since the moment we met.”
You leant up and captured his lips with your own, winding your fingers through his hair and sighing as he gripped your hips.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.
“I love you too,” you replied.
You looked up at the boy and smiled, “I mean everything I say John, I thought you knew that.”
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