Hiya! I was wondering if you possibly wouldn't mind writing a (The 100) John Murphy x reader imagine? 👉🏼 👈🏼
Maybe John and reader stargazing one night (this takes place during season 1-2) and it's basically just a cute fluffy time between the two until they get caught up in a moment, nearly kiss and one of them nearly confesses their feelings but then gets too embarrassed and cuts the night off to go to bed.
I hope that makes sense, I dunno I'm kinda tired 😂😅😅
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, mentions of like violence but very mild, tragic backstories but you guys know the drill.
𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: Ethereal. That's what it was. The beauty of watching the stars in the sky from the ground was utterly breathtaking, and with John there to view it with you the moment couldn't be more perfect, and neither could he.
𝐀/𝐍: I read this request and died thinking about how cute I could make this so I hope you enjoy it <3
Earth was beautiful. Ever since you'd landed you'd known that this was where you were supposed to be. The vegetation, the wildlife, all of it. You adored the world around you and the abundance it offered. You loved the way running water sounded, and the way it felt against your virgin skin. You relished in the way the wind would caress your face and sweep your hair back behind you. You got drunk on the feeling of the sun kissing your face in the early morning when you left your tent.
Most of all though, you looked forward to the stars. Looking up into the barren land you once called a home, and drinking in the beauty of it from a distance.
A twig snapping from behind you made you jump, pulling your attention away from the sky above you. You didn’t need to turn to see who it was, and a small smile grew on your face as he sat down beside you, wordlessly.
Murphy, or John as you were allowed to call him when only his ears were around to hear it. The privacy the blanket of the night sky offered beat any makeshift tent back in your camp, and every night the two of you would sit and enjoy each others company, stargazing as it was called.
Some nights you would speak to each other, other nights you would sit and enjoy each others company in silence. It didn’t really matter whether your words were involved or not - it meant something to both of you either way.
“The stars are out again tonight.” You commented softly, taking his mind back to last night when a thick cloud cover had obscured them from your view. You had still sat and enjoyed the night, but it wasn’t the same without those little beacons lighting up the sky.
“Mmm.” He just hummed, sounding tired.
Not bothered or annoyed by you, just tired. He worked hard around the camp, and despite was people saw on the outside he was more than a snarky dickhead. You hated to say he was different with you, but he was. Maybe it was because you had taken the time to look past the rude exterior, and you hadn’t let prejudice sway how you treated him when you’d first met him.
“Long day?” You asked, shifting your head to the side slightly to look at him. He looked exhausted, heavy bags and sunken cheeks. His face was downturned without emotion, and his eyes were empty despite reflecting the stars above you.
“Yeah.” He nodded, adjusting to lay down beside you. You followed him, allowing your head to rest by his shoulder, brushing against it gently.
You felt his arm come around your shoulders, holding you. To anyone who stumbled out you would look like a love struck couple, but this was just your friendship with him. It was open and soft and gentle, all the things that he wasn’t.
You loved him either way. You didn’t know what kind of love you felt for him, at first it was platonic but now you weren’t so sure. It didn’t really matter - as long as he knew how you felt.
“You ever wish you could still be up there?” He asked, breaking the silence.
“The Ark?”
“Yeah.” He turned his head to look at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t pinpoint.
“God no.” You almost laughed. “Why would I?”
“It was easier up there.” He shrugged. “People hated me, but not the way they do down here. I didn’t have to worry about being speared through the chest and strung up as bait, or how I’d find my next meal.”
“I don’t think it was easier up there.” You admitted. “I didn’t have you up there.”
He squeezed your shoulder. “That’s why it would’ve been easier for you.”
He said it as a joke but you could hear the sincerity behind his words. It made you frown.
“You’re perfect, John. You’ve made Earth so much better for me than you can even begin to understand.”
He was silent at your words for a moment, averting his gaze from yours, looking back to the stars for guidance.
A doubtful feeling grew in your stomach, as you wondered whether or not you’d said the right thing. He opened his mouth, as though he was about to say something but he was cut off.
A large crack of thunder echoed throughout the small valley you called home with the rest of the hundred. Droplets of rain fell from the sky, splattering onto your face, increasing with intensity every couple of seconds.
“We should head inside.” Murphy said, standing abruptly. Rain shook from his hair and clothes as he stood, reaching down to offer you a hand up.
You’d expected him to walk in through the gates with you but as soon as you were on your feet he’d turned and walked off, a nervous, almost shy, air about him that you’d never seen before.
You looked to the stars one more time before heading inside, but they were gone, once again buried beneath the rain clouds.
A small sigh left your lips as you trudged inside, already looking forward to your next stargaze with John.
Summary: Clarke putting you in charge of Murphy when they find him, all beat up and half dead, but he ends up taking care of her in the end.
—————————————————————————————————
When the others came back to camp without John, you knew what it meant.
It was a death sentence, even if Bellamy and Clarke wouldn’t admit it to themselves. If the grounders didn’t kill him, which was a big enough if, exposure and dehydration would have.
There was no way around that.
Even if you wanted to find one, eventually you had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't have survived all on his own out there.
You were sure of that much.
Though, just when you had begun to process the fact that you had to live in this camp, alongside everyone who’d had a part in his death, this new world found a way to prove you wrong.
“What is going on?” you asked, finding it hard not to be irritated already.
It was bad enough you had to carry the slack of the others dropping the ball with their chores, but now you had to help Clarke, of all things.
Which, naturally, wasn’t ideal.
Just because everyone else had moved past John’s banishment already didn’t mean you were going to do the same. You knew that what they had done that day wasn’t right and you weren’t about to pretend otherwise.
It wasn’t fair.
Still, you didn’t want to hear about neglecting your responsibilities and not doing your part again, so you showed up anyway.
It wasn’t like there was anything else better for you to be doing, anyway.
“Didn’t you hear the trip wire?” Bellamy questioned, as soon as you made yourself known. It was a mystery to him how you managed to be so nonchalant about everything, but he’d gotten over asking after all this time.
You wouldn’t tell him even if he did.
You nodded, recalling the sound and the chaos that followed outside your tent but you didn’t think too much of it. Around here, a falling pine cone was liable to get the same reaction from most of the hundred.
It made you miss Murphy that much more.
He was one of the only things about this place that you found tolerable, and now, there was nothing.
Nothing, of course, except for the high alert you’d grown used to in camp, with everyone convinced there were grounders abound, getting ready to ambush you in the dark.
“Well, it wasn’t a grounder out there” he allowed, finally giving you some room.
You had no idea what that meant, or why they needed you, but that didn’t stop you from stepping up into the dropship, searching for anything that would clue you in on what was so bad they needed you.
Usually, they just left you alone.
Everyone left you alone, because after everything with Murphy, they didn’t know what to say. Though, to be fair, there wasn’t anything to say, or do, that would make it any better.
He was gone and they couldn’t bring him back.
…at least, not that you knew.
You couldn’t help but rethink that after entering the dropship to find Clarke knelt down over another, against the wall farthest from you.
It didn’t make sense.
In your head, you knew that he was dead. That there was no way he could have possibly survived out there on his own, but it was hard to argue with what you were seeing.
The boogeyman out in the darkness wasn’t some terrible monster or an army waiting to slaughter you all in your sleep.
It was Murphy.
Barely alive, but alive nonetheless.
“Shit” you barely let out, trying to keep your lungs from physically imploding in your chest. You knew you should have come up with something better, and more eloquent, but that was all you had.
What more was there to say, really?
You thought he was dead.
In fact you were sure of it, until right now.
“What happened to him?” you sighed, once the reality of the situation actually kicked in. You had never seen the man in question in worse shape, and that wasn’t from a lack of trying.
He’d gotten into his fair share of scrapes, even before being locked up on the Ark, but this was a different level.
The grounders tortured him.
Nearly killed him and then just opened the door and let him out.
You couldn’t believe it.
This whole time, you thought that he had died but the reality was so much worse than that. Considering the state he was in, even the most brutal death out there would have been kinder.
Anything would have been kinder.
“The grounders captured him, after-” Clarke started, but you couldn't help but interrupt her, finding it so incredibly typical that she would react the way she was now.
Like this whole thing wasn’t partially her fault.
Like all his blood wasn’t on her hands, just as much as Bellamy.
“-After you left him to die in the woods”
There was no love lost between you and the blonde, that was true, but this went far beyond some tiffs about who was in charge and who made the decisions.
This was about John’s life, which she had taken into her own hands over some little girl that none of you even knew all that well before she committed a murder.
It was a hell of a lot bigger than a disagreement over leadership.
It was about loyalty, and love.
Two things she couldn't have ever hoped to understand.
“We just need someone to look after him” she hummed, having given up on the task ahead of her. Clarke was already aware that there was nothing she could do to convince you that they had made the right call.
That didn’t make it the wrong one. It just made it hard for you to accept, but that wasn’t why you were here.
Clarke believed Murphy’s story.
The only trouble was that she couldn’t bring herself to trust him, or to really care what happened to him.
So, she found the only person in camp who did.
You.
It was unavoidable.
To most everyone in the camp, John Murphy was lower than scum but for some reason, you didn’t seem to get the memo.
You cared about him, and as annoying as it was, it was going to serve her well today.
Clarke had things to do, things that she had to be the one to do, and that meant that she couldn't just sit around and babysit him until he was well enough to be helpful.
You, however, could.
Most of the time you were packing rations or cleaning guns, jobs that anyone could have done and would. They wouldn’t miss you for a couple of days, while you were focused on something else.
Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would argue over it. No one else wanted to put up with Murphy in good spirits, let alone Murphy when he was sick and wounded.
“Let me get this straight, you want me to babysit him until he’s useful, just so you can throw him back out there again? Knowing what they did to him the first time?” you clarified, your eyes just barely flicking to the man you loved before landing on her again.
They had to be kidding.
It was bad enough they had taken him from you once, but now they wanted to do it again? And not only that, they wanted you to help this time.
It was a joke.
It had to be.
“Once he heals, we’ll find out what he knows, then he’s gone” Bellamy confirmed, not caring all that much for the way you were treating the blonde. He understood that you cared about Murphy.
That just didn’t mean anything here.
It couldn’t.
The words stung to hear, but they didn’t surprise you. From the moment you saw him, you knew better than to assume he’d remain within these walls for long, even given the miserable state of him.
They had banished him the first time and you weren’t about to put it past Clarke or Bellamy to kick him out again.
It was a miracle they’d even let him in at all.
Given the history he shared with most of the members of this camp, you half expected them to leave him to die, right outside the walls of the camp.
…but Clarke had made a different call.
It was like Bellamy said, they believed what he’d told Clarke about the grounders, and that he may have some valuable information to share once he got better.
At the very least, it was keeping him alive.
For now.
~
“You need to sleep”
John’s voice echoing slightly around the dropship startled you, but that was mostly because he’d been sleeping for the past sixteen hours.
You didn’t even know he realized you were here.
“No, that’s your job” you hummed, immediately rushing to get a clean rag from the bucket, the cool water stained pink with all the blood you’d had to wash from his skin earlier.
It ran over your fingers and trickled back into the basin below, electing a gentle sigh from you that you were quick to cover up.
You hadn’t slept in who knows how long, but it didn’t matter.
All you cared about was making sure John stayed not-dead.
Besides, you were almost positive that you couldn’t have slept if you tried. There was just too much on your mind.
This whole thing, all of it, was just so hard to believe.
You couldn’t believe that you were here, or that John was alive, or that any of this was really happening.
It just didn’t feel real.
Still, that didn’t change the fact that every time you opened your eyes, you found yourself still on the ground, and every time you had blinked since he’d gotten back, your heart shattered that much more.
In your head, it was like he was still dead.
Like his side of your bed was cold and empty, and he was never coming back.
“I’m serious. When’s the last time you went outside?” Murphy asked, gesturing to the mouth of the dropship with about as much strength as he could muster.
The grounders had really done a number on him and considering everything you had done to help him so far, it almost seemed like he was getting worse.
You didn’t know what to do, but like always, he didn’t care.
He didn’t care about anything more than what you were doing and when you had taken care of yourself last.
It was almost a joke.
He’d been a ghost this whole time, and now that he was back, all he cared about was making sure you slept, and got some fresh air.
The idea nearly made you laugh, and maybe it would have, if you hadn’t been on the verge of total exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about that. All you need to worry about is getting better” you countered, pressing the cool cloth to his forehead.
It was going to take him quite a while to heal completely after the beating the grounders had given him, but at least he was cleaned up now.
You just hoped the cough he’d developed would clear up soon.
Not that you had much time to worry about that before John made up his own mind. If you weren’t going to take a break on your own, he was just going to have to make you.
There was no way around it.
“Where are you going?” you asked, watching as the man you loved forced his weak frame up from his hammock and stood. While it was possible he was no longer tired, that didn’t mean he needed to be up.
He definitely couldn’t go walking around.
If Clarke and Bellamy caught wind of John getting better, they would force him out again and you just weren’t ready for that.
You weren’t ready to lose him again so soon, and you weren’t ready to face what would happen if you did.
“You need to get some rest, so either you go back to your tent on your own or I’ll drag you out myself” the male threatened, bringing a small smile to your face as you considered how that would go.
John would have had a hell of a time dragging you anywhere normally, led alone in the state he was in but rather than call his bluff, you sighed.
Knowing him, Murphy would manage to find a way if you doubted him.
“Okay, but you can’t go anywhere. You have to promise” you decided, looking him in the eye. Even if it didn’t seem reasonable to you, you knew that Murphy would find a way to prove you wrong if you doubted him.
…and the last thing he needed was to do more damage to himself by being stubborn.
I’m not going anywhere. I’ll sleep here” you suggested, not willing to leave his side quite yet. You were terrified, still, that something awful was going to happen if you didn’t keep an eye on him.
He’d slipped through your fingers once before, and you wouldn't trust it wouldn’t happen again.
Murphy huffed, in that definitant kind of way that he often did but you didn’t pay him any mind. He wasn’t in any position to make demands, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t tired.
Taking care of him, in his state, was a full time job and it wasn’t getting any easier.
“Fine, lay down” he all but ordered, sure that if you didn’t do as he asked right now, you would find some kind of excuse to be up and about.
Sometimes, it was almost like you thought the world would fall off its axis if you ever took a break.
Of course, at his prompting, you let out a similar huff to the one he’d let out previously but just as you’d done, John ignored it.
All you needed to do was rest.
You didn’t like the idea of taking his bed, given the circumstances, but clearly, Murphy wasn’t asking. He wasn’t addressing you in the way that meant you had a choice in the matter, no matter how hard you tried.
“Everything is going to be fine. I’ll be right here when you wake up” John assured, closing the space between the two of you and taking your hands in his own.
He knew you were afraid of all this, and worried about him, but you just had to trust him on this.
You had to know he’d protect you so that you could rest for a while.
“Okay? I’m not going anywhere” Murphy promised, gingerly helping you get adjusted into the hammock below you and pressing a small kiss to your forehead.
Then, once he was convinced that you were settled, the male in question slid his back against the wall opposite you until he found his own place to rest against the floor.
In all honesty, this would be good for both of you.
He had been in that stupid hammock for hours, and if he stayed in it much longer, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get out of it again.
You, however, could certainly use a break from being on your feet. Murphy was almost sure that you hadn’t even sat down in that past ten hours.
You weren’t ready to close your eyes, by any means, but rather than argue with the man in front of you, you forced an exhausted sigh from your lungs and closed your eyes.
All you hoped was that he was telling the truth and that John would still be there when you opened them again.
(A/N): This is based on a dream I had! I realized while writing this that it isn’t inclusive to plus sized persons, so I wanted to apologize! I will be sure to write something more plus size friendly in the future.
Warnings: Jaha is a jerk?
Word Count: 718
Pairing: John Murphy x Reader
Summary: On the path to the City of Light, the sun becomes unbearable.
(Gif/Pic isn’t mine!!)
You’d been walking for days. Hours? Time in the desert didn't make sense. It was too hot and too bright -- there was nothing in every direction but sand. Sand sucked. A lot.
Following Murphy was a no brainer. As crazy as he was, you knew you’d follow him anywhere. Even if he was determined to follow Jaha out to the middle of this godforsaken desert, you’d follow him.
Oh, but it was so hot. The water ran out yesterday, and your tongue was heavy as stones. John walked ahead of you, eyes on Jaha. He needed something to believe in, and right now it was the man with the stick.
Your vision swam, drenched in sweat, and all at once you were going down. Your knees hit the sand -- there was so much sand -- and for a moment you were at rest. Maybe you could just rest here for a bit. You could catch up, right? Or maybe you could just wait here, they would come back for you.
Of course they wouldn’t leave you. No sooner had you fallen to your knees, your pack falling from your shoulder, and Murphy was at your side.
“(Y/n)? Love, can you hear me?” And you could, but he sounded so far away. Still, he needed to know you heard him. Nodding, your body slumped against his. He caught you, and he was firm against your side. John held you, and that security roused you from the pool of unconsciousness you were drowning in.
“‘s too hot” You insisted, a dry and heavy tongue causing your words to slur and twist.
“I know,” He barks out a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor there. “It's a desert.”
“‘r we almos’ there yet?”
“I don’t know (Y/n)... Jaha,” Now he was speaking to your fearless leader.
Cracking your eyes open was difficult enough, in the minute or so they were closed they’d been glued shut by sand. One day, Murphy and you were going to live in a place where there's no sand. At all, it’ll be illegal.
The sun was intense and abrasive, but you made out that your remaining companions were huddled around you. Jaha, the man best imitating the biblical figure Moses, was already on the next dune, looking at the group expectantly.
“We need a break.” It wasn’t a question or request. All of you had been walking for hours, you’d just been the unlucky one to fall first.
“Nonsense, it isn’t dark yet” As if you weren’t curled into your boyfriend's side, miserable and useless. You knew that once you were hydrated and of your right mind, he’d tease you for this. His damsel in distress.
“Dumbass, we can’t get to your City of Light if we’re all dead!” You weren’t surprised with how pragmatic he was being. You really did feel like death, though he didn’t need to know that.
Mustering what little strength you had, you sat up. “I-I’m fine. I can make it” You were trying to sound convincing... Maybe if you pretend you werent slurring your words or seeing double, everyone else would believe you were fine.
Jaha took this as fact and nodded. “See, they’re fine. Come, we have more ground to cover.” With that, he disappeared over the dune.
Murphy spat curses as the others walked past him and towards the dune. He might also be determined to press on, but you were clearly in no position. And your well being trumped his desires.
“Go, you needa go with Jaha” You pressed, attempting to push him away.
“Shut up” He mumbled, before scooping you up. He held you bridal style, taking a moment to adjust and shift you in his arms, before pressing on.
“There’s no way I’d ever even think of leaving you, don’t fucking forget that.” His words are steel, his intent ironclad. His eyes are on the horizon, and all you can do is stare at him. After a moment, he kisses your forehead.
Safe and secure in your lovers arms, you knew you would be okay. Murphy would always be there, and so would you. Even after all this time, you still weren’t used to having a partner you could rely on like this. It was nice, and you let yourself drift off into unconsciousness.
Request: Hey babes! I was wondering if I could request a John Murphy x reader imagine of when Murphy is in the lighthouse bunker? But both him and the reader are stuck there and are best friends but the reader lost her mother when the ark finally came down, and she/he is torn to pieces and Murphy comforts her?
A/N: Am I back on a 100 kick? You bet your ass I am. I can’t right explain it, and i’m not sure if i’ll ever finish it given how disappointing the ending was -- but I am considering re-watching up to season four and writing a bit for the show! So, enjoy to anyone who has been missing the good-old-classic 100 imagines!
Pairing: John Murphy x Reader
Word Count: 1003
“This... We can’t--”
You press your palm against the door. Nothing happens. You push, hard, and yet, still -- nothing relents.
The metal door doesn’t budge.
“We can’t be stuck,” you mumble, words slipping past your lips without any real thought or understanding of them. “We can’t possibly be stuck in here!”
Your voice pitches; the panic bleeding through. Hand reels back, before slamming back into the metal. It hurts, throbs slightly, but yet it does nothing. As before, and as you’re starting to realize, the door is locked. Sealed. And it isn’t opening.
Your head turns back, glancing down the steps and in the direction you know John to be.
Giving up, you turn, walking down. He’s watching something on the screen. A video.
“Contamination,” he mumbles to himself.
Your chest tightens, and you shuffle on your feet, stepping towards him. “What?” You whisper, catching his attention as he spins to face you. His lips part, and the look in his eyes as your heart plummeting, fingers fidgeting, because you have a feeling you know what he meant.
“There’s no way out.”
You shake your head. “The door won’t open?”
And hesitates, lips parting, but his words get caught in the back of his throat. He suddenly rushes forward, grabbing one of the metal tables off the ground, rushing past you. Murphy’s name leaves your lips in a desperate cry of confusion but it doesn’t stop him, and instead you’re rushing after him as the first bang echoes, causing you to jump.
Bang after bang, metal against metal -- the sound hurts your ears -- but nothing works.
Murphy’s panting, chest rising and falling rapidly, and it continues on for minutes. At one point, he’s ripping off his shirt, sweat building, desperation and frustration before the minutes start to feel like seconds and your body lurches forward. “John,” you cry, grabbing onto his arm.
He instantly halts.
“It isn’t going to work!”
His wild eyes reel on you; “there’s got to be some way out of here!”
And his scream surprises you; never, despite everything, has he ever raises his voice at you. Never has that untamed wild behaviour of his ever been focused solely and wholly on you. You blink and everything seems just teen times worse in that moment as your lips part, voice catching, before you find your voice.
“It’s okay,” you try to soothe, though you find you don’t even believe the words yourself. “We’ll find some way out. I promise.”
Eighty-six days later and you still haven’t.
Murphy plays the recordings over and over again. Sometimes, when you’re tucked in a corner, pretending to sleep and he’s not aware of your listening ears, you can hear him repeating; he says the words as if he’s actually there -- in the recordings.
But he puts on a brave face to you.
The cracks are starting to slip. You know your grip on sanity is fading, growing farther and farther away, and you know it is for Murphy too -- possibly, it’s already gone. He has outbursts, suddenly and randomly. There’s nothing for the two of you to talk about anymore.
Days and nights bleed together. Everything is dull.
Everything, truly, is hopeless.
Except for Murphy. Despite everything, despite the sanity slipping from the both of you, it holds fast to you because of him. He’s your last solace. If he wasn’t here... you... you didn’t know what you’d do.
You probably would’ve lost it all long ago.
It’s that that causes you to react the way you do.
Seeing that gun pressed against the bottom of his chin elicits something inside of you you haven’t felt in so long. You move quick, fast, without thought and without halt. His name leaves your lips in a terrifying, screeching cry, and you rip the gun from his hands before anything else.
Collapsing to your knees before him, bags under both of your eyes, skin pale, sickly, eyes distant, gone, hair wild, body shaky, dehydrated, hungry, and yet all you can focus is on the fact that he’d been about to kill himself. And then you truly would’ve lost everything.
“What the hell is wrong with you!”
Murphy scoffs, and he shakes his head; “it’s hopeless,” he mumbles, daring to even laugh a little. “There’s no escape other then death.”
“You’d leave me?’ You cry, eyes ablaze, mind a mess. “Alone? Here? After everything?”
He takes your hand, the one with the gun, never looking away from your eyes. “We can do it together,” he babbles, “that way--”
“No!” You scream, throwing the gun away, far away. “Are you crazy?”
“Yes!” He screams right back, voices blaring, coherence gone. “I’m going crazy down here and I can’t handle it anymore.”
“We just have to wait,” you argue, “we just have--”
“It’s been too long. Waiting isn’t going to do anything!”
“Death isn’t either!”
There’s an echo of silence. Your shoulders fall, and you frown, glancing at your lap, eyes welling with tears, voice breaking. “You can’t leave me,” you find yourself confessing, words a mere whisper. “You’re... you’re all I’ve got left.”
And there it is; that moment of realization.
Everything comes rushing back to Murphy; and he remembers before, before all this.
“Your mom...”
“You’re the only family I have left,” you whisper, voice pitching.
His hand, the one still holding your own, squeezes, catching your attention as you finally glance up at him.
“I’m sorry,” he earnestly whispers, avoiding your gaze. “I... I wasn’t thinking. I felt I haven’t had a clear mind in days.”
You lower your head, catching his gaze. “I know,” you nod, “I understand.”
You lean forward, a moment of shared understanding, forehead falling against his own as silence echoes. Time slows, nothing else but Murphy matters in that moment -- not even the fact that you’re trapped in this bunker, for until who-knows-when, on your last ration of food... hopeless.
Murphy’s there, and that’s all that matters to you.
“Where are you going?” Murphy stops you in your track. His eyebrows are raised and you wonder what is going on with him. “I am going to pack some things. I am moving out with Octavia and Bellamy to find Clarke and the others.”
“Like hell you are!” Murphy says grabbing you by your wrist to stop you. “You are staying here, with me and Raven and Madi.”
You look at his hand on your wrist and back up in his face. “You don’t tell me what to do Murphy.” You say before yanking your wrist free from his grip. Murphy follows you as you make your way over to your tent. “Fine, then I’m comming with you.” He says determined.
You sigh and pause still holding your bag in your hands. “There is no more room on the rover.”
“Why do you have to go, huh?” Murphy asks you irritated. “Just because Bellamy saved you once doesn’t mean you have to keep following him around like some lap dog.”
Angry you shake your head. “I am the best tracker. They need me.” You tell him stuffing some gear in your bag. “And it doesn’t matter whether or not Bellamy saved my life, Clarke is family.”
“Clarke is not your family, I am!” Murphy yells at you. For a moment you are shocked that he yelled at you.
“How could you say that?” You ask ashamed of his behavior. “After all you’ve been through together? How many times has she saved your life even though you were a total rat?” With a smile he shakes his head. Even though he is smiling you know better than to think he is actually happy about something. It just means he is really angry.
“And did you forget all the times that she almost killed me?” Murphy asks offended. “If you want to go and run to her, be my guest. But don’t be surprised when she crosses you. You don’t matter to her like Bellamy or Octavia, so when the ball drops you will be the one left behind.”
“You are insane.” You tell him. “No wonder why you never really connect with anyone. You will always find a reason not to.”
Murphy laughs. “I’m glad you see it that way.” With a big swing he knocks the candle from the table and walks out.
A few hours later you are about to leave with the rover, but what happened with Murphy earlier that day just didn’t sit right with you. You tell Bellamy you will just be a minute and run back to camp to find Murphy. You find him sulking at the foot of tree. “Hey.” You greet him. “I just couldn’t leave without making up with you first.” He looks up at you a sad and troubled look on his face. You sit down in front of him and give him a little smile.
“So you are still going?” He asks you.
“Yeah, I am.” You confirm. “Murphy? Why do you want me to stay so bad?”
“You know how dangerous this is.” He says. “And I don’t know if you have noticed lately, but when people leave they don’t come back.”
“We don’t know what is going on, but we will figure it out. And we will bring everyone back.” You take his hand into yours. “I have a good reason to come back.”
“You know that nothing you say will make me feel any better about you going out there.” He tells you and for a second you believe there was a sparkle in his eyes. “Maybe this will.” You say before leaning in and kissing him. He is a bit surprised at first but then kisses you back. He wraps his arms around you while he passionately kisses you. “This is only going to make it harder.” He says breaking away. “I’m sorry Murphy.” You say before getting up and walking away.
imagine accidentally confessing your love for John Murphy
“You’re really pretty, y’know?” Murphy muttered, tapping your nose. He was laying in bed with you.
You just giggled at his comment and pulled him even closer to you, thinking about how lucky you were for having him. He had been nothing but an amazing boyfriend to you since you arrived on the ground.
“I love you” slipped from your mouth, before you could stop it. You felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and he kissed your neck softly.
Alright, so instead of writing the Requests I have, I decided to do @im-a-writer-right 's Challenge with the Prompts "Your hand is so soft" and "Can We Cuddle?". I saw the prompts and immediately got this urge to write My Bby John.
THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING. I LOVE THIS.
Setting: Arkadia somehow lol
Summary: Murphy is self-conscious about his body, and reader conforts him. Cuddles Ensue.
Warning: Mentions of Torture, Self Deprecating thoughts and talk, puking a few times, body hatred I guess? Overwhelming Fluff,
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Mood board made by the wonderful @im-a-writer-right !!
Murphy was having a really freaking bad day. First he has a nightmare at 5 in the morning causing him to not be able to go back to sleep, then he pukes up any food he ate BECAUSE of the nightmare, then he misses on their hunt so they have less food to bring back, he cuts his arm slightly on a piece of fence that broke, he started crying all because someone mentioned one Of the scars on his cheek, he pukes AGAIN after eating in evening, and now hes standing in front of the mirror, his shirt off and laid across the bed. Hes poking and tracing all the old scars from the torture he's been through. He hates it all. He hates every dip and curve of his body, from the scars, to just normal skin.
"John? I heard you've been having a pretty rough day are you o-" You open the flap of the tent you both share, your words die quickly on your tongue as you see John standing there curling into himself. He looks at you, with something in his eyes that you can only describe as shame, and your heart breaks.
"Hey, Are you alright?" You ask taking off your jacket and putting it on a chair. Murphy scoffs and turns around swiftly, back to looking in the mirror. A tear falls down his face and he viciously wipes it away. He sighs and runs a finger on the scar around his neck, where the rope had cut through, and shudders.
"Yeah, I'm definitely fine. Peachy actually." Murphy grumbles and looks at you through the mirror. You walk up to him and place your hand on his shoulder. You can feel that he's tense from just a simple touch and run your hand down his back. Your hand runs over the scars lining him. He relaxes under your touch slightly and throws his hand backwards grabbing the hand that's not doing anything and pulling your body flush to his. You can feel his body heat radiating off him and it's a comfortable feeling.
"You're sure relaxing now, huh?" You tease still slowly tracing every inch of his back, and his scars. He makes a breathy sound, you suppose it was supposed to be a laugh.
"Yea' Your hand is so soft... Gentle..." He says melting even farther into your touch. You smiles softly and lean forward giving his back closed mouth kisses. He moans from the soft feeling coming from your lips. He feels odd doing so, he's never really moaned in any kind of pleasure, other than sexual so it's new to him. He closes his eyes and Leans his head back.
You both stay there for a few minutes, you just completely comforting him with your soft touches along his scars. Murphy then turns in your arms and looks you in the eyes. He leans down and kisses you softly, pouring as much love into it as possible. You know what this is, you know that its his way of saying thank you without having to say the words. Murphy pulls away and looks at you with wide, vulnerable eyes.
"Uh... Heh... Can we uh.." Murphy stumbles over his words and blushes. You reach up and place your hand on his cheek. You smile at him in a reassuring way Hoping he'll open up and ask whatever he wants to.
"Can we Cuddle?" He asks in the softest voice you've ever heard. You smile widely and pull him towards the bed. His eyes are wide and his lips are turned up in an innocent smile you never thought you'd see. You lay him down onto the bed, and take off his shoes while he tries to relax into the small mattress. You take off your shoes and climb in after him, pushing him so hes laying on his side. You lay behind him and lay his back completely against your front. He shivers and you grab the blanket laying at the far end of the bed, throwing it over the both of you. You wrap your arm around his torso pulling him impossibly closer.
"Can I touch your neck?" You ask softly and his breath hitches. He thinks for a few moments. He knows he is in completely safety hers, your arm is holding him close and he can feel every breath you take he knows he's safe. Murphy nods and you softly brush his hair away from his neck. He needs a haircut, he's been talking about it for the past week hoping you'll just end up doing it so he doesn't butcher it. You lean down and kiss his neck softly, not in a way that's meant to arouse him, or get him in the mood, but it's to show comfort. You kiss the scar that lies there and he whines, grabbing the blanket tightly.
"(Y/N)..." Murphy whimpers and buries his face into the pillow under his head. You sooth him with noises and kiss the back of his head causing him to relax completely into the bed. His body putty under your fingers as your run them over every scar and every bump. And he lets you, because you have Soft Hands. Gentle Hands.
