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Im thinking bojack chuckman as a ship name possibility or charles lee horseman i dont know yet tho

sweet but psycho

Summary:

They had done it again: had kicked him out for little more than breathing - Bellamy had murmured in his ear, threatening and dark, and so close that Murphy could kiss him or stab him but only one idea had formed in his head, that he was such an asshole; yeah, Bell's a little slow on the uptake apparently - but Murphy had landed himself back into banishment, nonetheless.

Perhaps it would have been just easier to die, Murphy contemplates as he picks at the evergreen grass by his head, thoughts drifting elsewhere until he hears a bout of laughter. "That a good survival method, Kid?"

"Depends. Are you going to kill me?"

"...Depends. Do you want me to?"

He hadn't answered. No, instead Negan's saviours had dragged him off and he had been tied down again - torture was getting a bit too repetitive for Murphy's own taste.

"Who are your loyalties?" The man had asked him, calmly waving the threat of his baseball bat wrapped in barb wire around like one would a white flag. When he focuses hard enough, Murphy can see the grid pattern the barbed wire used to possess: it looks like the strips across his back. He wonders if Negan is going to torture him already or just sit there twirling the bat around like it means anything, keeping him tied to the chair like Murphy is just expected to wait.

"I don't have any." He admits even though it's sort of a lie: he doesn't have anyone who cares but he is loyal to people. Loyal to the point of dying for them. "Also, can I ask about the bat, man?"

The leader of the Saviours slams the gaudy bat into the table in a way that makes Murphy jump and then correct himself,

"No offence, obviously. But like, could you have picked something more phallic?"

The laugh the other man lets out is sour. Mad. Unamused but hinting at finding mirth in the situation.

"That why you can't answer my questions, baby boy? Brain too full of thinking about dick?"

Murphy sleeps with him - because of course he does, it's Murphy. But he doesn't wake up with that same pit of resentment in his stomach as he did when he let one of the Grounders fuck him in favour for not torturing him for a day. Instead he wakes up amongst cream-colored sheets with tan arms wrapped around his thin waist and a pair of lips pressing a kiss to the sharp of Murphy's shoulderblade. Who knew the king of the Saviours would be such cuddler?

Murphy attempts his escape the next night, machine gun in hand and rather stacked up for things that are easy to carry: more water and a backpack of pills, bandage and easy food. Stuff he can run with. "I thought we were having a moment, you little asshole!" is the last thing he hears before he climbs down the walls and he can't help but smile, don't fall for a hustler then, asshole.

But then Bellamy and the rest of Camp Jaha become something of under Negan's rule when he finds them: fuck him, right?

{ Maybe literally if your name is Negan }

[THINGS I HAVE TAKEN INTO CONSIDERATION:

1. Sorry for the long post

2. Yes, this is a crackship but wouldn't it be badass?

3. I considered writing a fic and this summary is a mess - oof. Should I?

4. The timeline makes no sense but I don't, um, you see, care?

5. Also, this is almost entirely for @violette-pleasures and I soooo???? Oof

6. Hope you like it! ]

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