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maysileeewrites · 5 months

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a helping hand - John Murphy x reader

Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.

warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something!

AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it!

You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red.

Blood.

There’s just so much of it.

You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help.

You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm.

A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply.

When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut.

You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp.

After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance.

You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter.

Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for.

So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you.

„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression.

„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“

He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“

You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“

He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further.

You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth.

All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver.

Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips.

Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him.

„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“

„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark.

And fuck. This - this is dangerous.

That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“

„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs.

„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness.

„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location.

You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location.

Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy.

Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip.

Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing.

„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“

Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression.

„And I know that won’t change anything-“

„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“

Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody.

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it.

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest.

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation.

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain.

„Let me“, you say, helping him.

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly.

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“

You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze.

Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“

You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him.

„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“

Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes.

„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up.

Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches.

Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him.

You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“

Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods.

You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“

You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending.

Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“

He stops talking then, shaking his head.

„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any.

„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“

„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of.

He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“

„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“

Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything.

But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.

Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain.

You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind.

„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“

With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words.

Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe.

„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation.

„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck.

You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh.

Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books.

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.

Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good.

And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that.

Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours.

„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss.

Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“

You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly.

„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again.

You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“

Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“

„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again.

You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well.

Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy.

#john murphy x you #john murphy x reader #john murphy imagine #john murphy the 100 #john murphy #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 tv #richard harmon #john mother fucking murphy #the 100 x reader #the 100 x you #maysileewrites

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mystra-midnight · 6 months

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Two Tickets to Paradise

summary: you'd fought and given up, then started fighting again. the lighthouse, which had started as a paradise, was turning into hell, and it was breaking you—slowly tearing away your sanity.

warnings: 18+ only. on the darker side. mentions of alcohol consumption. rough sex. dacryphilia. hints of emotional distress. hints of angst and/or mental anguish.

words: here.

notes: honestly wrote this so surprisingly quickly. murphy's always been one of my favs from the show - the arrogance, the vulnerability, the character development? jesus it just does thinks for me. (i don't think i'd ever say no if you send in thots and imagines for him)

The moment the lighthouse door slammed shut, you should have panicked, but you hadn't been able to find it in yourself to be afraid or even upset. After surviving a trek through a seemingly endless desert, then a boat ride across a seemingly endless ocean, a serpent attack, and a night out in the cold with an injured and angry delinquent, the lighthouse was a welcomed surprise—a perfect paradise.

Not even John—fucking—Murphy, with his toxic tongue and perfect eyes, could ruin your good mood. The two of you had never been particularly close, but you got along well enough that the shared space wasn't uncomfortable. For the first few days, you gave each other space, choosing to sit on opposite sides of the room and occupy yourselves.

Occasionally, the two of you would watch and rewatch the videotape that explained what caused the apocalypse on Earth. On the tenth day, you both drank yourselves stupid and spent hours sharing secrets, thoughts, and theories. You discovered you both had a mutual distrust of the adults who'd arrived on Earth and taken over as though they hadn't sent one hundred kids to their deaths until eventually passing out.

That became your routine for the next forty-five days. Or maybe it was fifty-four. You didn't know.

You tried to keep count, but the days had started to run together, turning into a blur of drunken moments that hurt to think about. You had screamed and cried. You had clawed at the doors until your nails bled. You'd fought and given up, then started fighting again. The lighthouse, which had started as a paradise, was turning into hell, and it was breaking you—slowly tearing away your sanity.

Murphy was in a similar predicament. Some days he screamed and raged around the room, breaking what he could. Other days, he sat completely still and stared ahead as though he no longer inhabited his own body. Eventually, you turned to each other for comfort and escape. That was how you'd found yourself bent over the arm of the sofa, his cock buried deep in your slick walls.

Murphy was wild and untamed, lost in a frenzy of emotions. His hand was fisted in your hair, pulling hard as he pounded you. The sound of his pelvis hitting your ass was obscene and loud, as were the moans and gasps forced from your lips. He was rough—rougher than you liked, but you still couldn't find it in yourself to care.

The pain and pleasure blended so beautifully together that it left you speechless and dazzled, only able to moan each time he pushed into the satin clutch of your cunt. Before this moment, you'd felt hopeless, utterly so, and at the end of your rope, your sanity had been stretched so thin and buried so deep in your being that you never thought you'd find it again.

Murphy found it.

And now the pain was starting to feel so good. It made you forget about the emptiness that had been eating away at you—the hopelessness, the desperation. You needed him. You needed him to stop your thoughts from racing and to fuck everything from your mind until all that remained was him, his cock, and the pleasure searing in your veins.

He happily obliged as he needed the distraction as much as you did.

Both of you needed to feel something—anything—instead of that all-consuming disparity. Luckily, the familiar warmth of orgasm was starting to course through your veins, leaving your skin sweat-slicked and your voice ragged as Murphy adjusted his angle, somehow driving his cock deeper into your sweet cunt, the tip of his cock hitting that spot that sent you suddenly careening.

“Murphy!” You sounded panicked, like you were breaking, and perhaps you were. He did it again, feeling your walls tighten around him. He was dripping with your slick; the wiry hair at the base of his shaft matted; your own equally as messy from where he pulled and yanked it. He was in a frenzy, chasing the climax snaking through his veins, relishing in the feeling of it coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach until he could hardly breathe, until all he felt was flames licking at his skin.

He was going to break you—maybe kill you—but you didn’t care because the same feelings were consuming you. It was glorious and all-consuming. You started to shake. Your thighs trembled so violently that only the arm of the couch kept you from collapsing.

He didn't notice—or maybe he did and he didn't care; either way, it didn't matter; you didn't mind.

He could use you; you'd let him. He could break you; you'd thank him.

But the moment his cock slipped from your slick walls, you couldn't forgive him. Tears stung in your eyes as you sobbed, the sound welling up from your chest only to be drowned under the sounds of his grunts and groans. Murphy snapped his hips forward, seemingly spurred onward by the tears that rolled down your cheeks in rivers, his pelvis meeting the reddened skin of your ass with a sinful slap, slap, slap.

The moment you needed and wanted with every beat of your heart faded away, your orgasm sleeping through your fingers like waters as you felt thick, ivory rops of come hit your lower back. Murphy tugged hard at your hair, sending pain blossoming through your scalp as he shadowed over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to fight and rage, as you'd done many times already. But the feel of his other hand moving between your legs, his fingers gathering your slick and bringing it to your own lips to taste, melted such thoughts from your brain.

"Not yet," he hissed, pushing two fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own arousal spreading over your tongue. "Not until you're begging."

#john murphy #john murphy smut #john murphy imagine #john murphy blurb #john murphy fanfiction #john murphy x reader #john murphy x you #john x you

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pogueswrld · 1 year

Note

Could you please do “ I want you to feel good” with John Murphy? I love your imagines! 😍

this was deep in my asks and it's half-assed I'm so sorry

*•.¸♡ drunk ♡¸.•*

pairing: john murphy x fem!reader

summary: murphy is drunk on his lover, and he's not afraid to show her

warning: smut!!! 🦢 pussy drunk john giving reader head basically, and some praise ig

note: this is super super short I'm sorry :/

“Fuck!”

y/n was sure that if John didn’t have his arms wrapped around her hips and thighs, she would have flown away by now.

His hold on her was tight, with his hands intertwined just above her belly button. His face was buried in her cunt, nose nudging at her clit and tongue lapping up her juices. He could almost swear he was in heaven. Every time he looked up at her and saw her face, her expression only amplified that belief.

He was far too good for her to remain silent, and he was unstoppable. Pulling one orgasm after the other from her like they were ribbons coming out of a magician’s hat. He had her squirming and whimpering, but he never let her go. He was drunk on her taste and feel, he never wanted to let her go.

“Johnny,” she whimpered, her fingers buried in his strands, tugging at his roots every time his tongue penetrated her and fucked her without rhythm. “I’m gonna cum again.”

Her words were mere gasps, and it made a smug smirk pull at his lips. “Oh I know you are, angel. I can feel you.” She whined at his words, and the noise made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

There was something so pure about seeing the person you love more than anything enjoy themselves, but to know that you’re the one giving them pleasure? Murphy was certain he was going to cum in his pants.

With a brand new sense of need and desperation, Murphy put all his energy into pulling that one more orgasm from his lover. Using his fingers to stimulate her while overwhelming her clit into overdrive, y/n was squealing his name within minutes. She gushed and clenched around his fingers, and John pulled away just enough to see her. His pupils dilated and his mind was completely blown.

He looked up at her, watching the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch her breath, then spread little kisses throughout her inner thighs. “You look so pretty, baby. I’m so proud of you, you did so well for me.”

#john murphy smut #john murphy #john murphy x reader #john murphy the 100 #john murphy imagine #the 100

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inmyownlaine · 1 year

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John Murphy x Reader: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death

Word Count: 2075

Part: 1

Summary: After taking cover in the underground bunker, you find yourself trapped with your sworn enemy. As time trails on, you realize the two of you will have to stay there till the coast is clear. The worst part? There’s only ONE bed 😮🤯

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He hated you. More than anything or anyone. In fact, if he were given the option to be pushed off a cliff or spend time with you, he would jump on his own accord and do a backflip on the way down.

And you couldn’t stand to be around him. You would rather spend your time eating soggy bread, walking in wet socks, or ripping band-aids off your bare skin. Anything was better, more preferable, than seeing his face.

If the two of you weren’t spitting insults at each other with vitriol and pure malice, you were physically harming one another. There was nothing amiable about the shoulder check he delivered on a daily basis. Likewise, your perfectly placed foot was not in jest. Especially when he would trip over it and go tumbling to the ground.

It got to the point where you couldn’t walk alone. He would grab you by the arm and slam you against walls, knife to throat, as he chuckled menacingly in your ear. “You know how easy it would be for me to kill you?” he would always ask.

And he couldn’t sit with his back to you, or else he’d find the barrel of a gun nudging his temple, and you with an itchy trigger finger. You’d deliver a smug little smile, pushing it further and further into his head. “And just like that, all my problems would suddenly go away,” you would always comment.

Yet, neither of you actually did anything. It was the sheer adrenaline, the barbaric action, the thrill of it all, that led you to behave so irresponsibly. The bruises and cuts and words would not stand in your way. No amount of concerned teenagers or useless pep talks would interfere. Nothing.

Being this wicked was a lonely road. You felt like a great white approaching a school of herrings. Wherever you went, there was an immediate scatter. Active avoidance upon sight was recommended. But you were the best shot, bar none. It was the only reason anyone allowed you to have a gun.

Or tag along on their excursions.

In front of them, of course. So everyone could clearly see exactly what you were doing. The wave of terror you caused was oddly devine. You didn’t live to torture others, or to be feared by the masses, but it was such a wonderful feeling to have some sense of power. So you sashayed with pride, lips puckered in a confident pout, leading them steadfast through the unknown forest.

The chatter behind didn’t phase you in the slightest. They were probably gossiping about their childish crushes or bantering with inside jokes. Neither of which concerned you or piqued interest.

That’s when the most grating, most vexatious voice muttered in a not-so-low tone, “Such an easy target.”

There was no hesitation. The gun was already in your hands as you spun around, aiming it directly at him. Everyone gasped, ducking for cover.

Except for him. He encroached your perimeter, arms tightly crossed against his chest, practically begging to be sprayed with bullets. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s cute.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warned him.

“Or what?”

You sneered. “I’ll finally grant you your wish. A chance to see your father again.”

He laughed aloud, minimizing the distance with every arrogant step he took. With a final act of provocation, he willingly placed his forehead on the muzzle. With both his hands in the air, mocking surrender, he glowered at you through slacked eyelids. “Then do it.”

A foghorn rang out across the woods. You removed the gun from his head and pointed it into the trees. An outbreak of panic coursed through the unit as they frantically asked what to do. Some didn’t wait for a response.

Half of the unit bolted towards the dropship. The other half formed a circle, guns outwards and ready for open fire. It became clear that you weren’t going to be battling someone, but rather, something.

It started as a mist in the faraway trees, consuming the trunks with thick smoke. Then it started to grow in every way, wider and higher, before all that seemed to lay before you was a rain cloud. One that made your skin itch, made your throat close. It was then you knew you had only a single option.

“Run!” you screamed, taking off after the others.

He was right beside you, matching step for step. It had been a while since death brushed your lips, leaving a poisonous sting, invigorating your will to survive. So much so, that the idea of tripping him (for old times sake!), tickled at your brain.

“What is that?” he yelled out, elbow covering his nose and mouth. He didn’t offer any indication, but you saw it, too. A silver wheel was bolted atop a thick metal hatch. You didn't have time to wonder about the specifics. Nor did you have the time to grimace when your hands accidentally touched; first when spinning the wheel, and second upon opening the hatch, revealing a ladder into dark descent.

“Go!” he urged you. You didn’t think twice, stepping onto the ladder and hurrying down, rung by rung. The hatch slammed shut, followed by labored grunts as he tightened it back to its original state and then some. With the abrupt overtake of darkness and the narrow pathway, you felt extremely claustrophobic.

He continued down the ladder as you froze, catching up to you in a matter of mere seconds. He stomped haphazardly, boots barely missing the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t step on me,” you warned him.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Knowing full well that he would love nothing more than to squish you beneath his weight, you pressed on till your foot met the dirt floor. It was pitch black as you fumbled around in the darkness, feeling around for any type of lantern, flashlight, or match box. He trampled behind you, presumably following suit.

“What could be worse than this?” he mumbled.

“Um, what?” you scoffed.

“Wasn’t for you to hear.”

“Cool. So you wanna climb back up the ladder and take your chances out there?” For the first time ever, he didn’t have anything to say. You took that as a victory, further twisting the knife. “That’s what I thought. Shut up.”

Ten minutes had passed and no progress was made. From what you felt, however, you could tell there was a wooden desk with a chair, a broken lamp and a dining table set. Whoever created this doomsday bunker obviously made it to be their home. You couldn’t imagine living your entire life underground, fearful of the dangers above. You stopped short when you realized you had done the exact opposite; lived your life above, fearful of the dangers below.

“This is no use,” you finally said.

“You really didn’t find anything?” his voice spouted back.

“And you did?”

There was a loud plop, followed by numerous rustles and the quiet zing of a zipper. It dawned on you that he was digging around in his backpack and the insides of your stomach burned. If you had been searching for a light this entire time, and he willingly allowed you to make an ass of yourself, it was over for him.

“I swear, if you pull out a flashlight-”

But his face illuminated with the glow of an LED light, revealing his arrogant expression. “What?”

You couldn’t even begin to convey how livid you were. Your fingers balled up into tight fists, and you had half a mind to swing on him. He pointed the light in your direction, blinding you before chuckling.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” With that he pressed on, exploring the rest that this space had to offer. You didn’t want to figure out anything more. All you wanted was the fog to pass so you could leave this hellhole.

However, you didn’t know how long that would take. Hours? Days? The thought of being with him that long made your head ache. So instead, you flopped back on the hard mattress, staring up at the low ceiling.

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like,” he started, “you think you’re taking the bed tonight.”

“Not really a thought. I’m here and I’m on it,” you said.

“Comfortable, are you? Not worried I’ll kill you in your sleep?” he asked.

You simply shrugged. “Who says I won’t get you first?”

The banter had gone on long enough. His face flushed as he approached you, looming over your body with his disturbing presence. You tried to act like you weren’t scared. Yet the thought of him actually hurting you wouldn’t escape your mind. If he really wanted to end it all tonight, he could.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he informed you.

“Well neither am I.”

“Don’t make me do this.” You gritted your teeth. Your gun was too far away from you. This would have to be a grappling game, one that you would surely lose. Especially if he kept his knife tucked into his pocket.

“If you’re not going to sleep on the floor, and I’m not going to sleep on the floor-” He stopped abruptly and just looked at you. You looked back, not understanding what he meant.

“Scoot over,” he finally said.

“Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

“Do you have a better idea?” he snapped. “You want to kill each other over a sleeping spot or you want to make it out tomorrow?”

The answer was obvious. You huffed and wriggled to the far end of the bed, nose brushing the metal wall in an effort to distance yourself as much as possible. With your arms crossed and eyes clamped, you imagined this wasn’t happening as you felt his side sag under his weight. He repositioned himself multiple times, frustrating you further, but finally made a decision and laid down quietly.

What would they say? What would you tell them? This was beyond humiliating, it was mortifying. To be laid up next to a person you openly abhorred was not good for your reputation. You had to make sure he knew the boundary and that it would never be crossed.

“You tell no one.”

“I’d say the same thing,” he replied, “but you don’t have any friends to tell.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

You awoke to a void. It took a second to remember where you were, rubbing your eyes furiously to try to adjust. There was a foghorn, some eerie clouds, an abandoned bunker- oh!- and your absolute worst nightmare sleeping beside you. It all came rushing back and you found yourself grimacing, hoping that you would be able to leave soon.

You pulled the blanket closer to your chin, itchy wool scratching the bare skin on your arms. That had always been your least favorite texture, which was a great parallel to the current situation, where you were trapped with your least favorite person. Of course, every single item and event and circumstance had to be undesirable.

The knotted threads at the end of the blanket were tangled, so you took it upon yourself to separate them out. All the while you reflected, yet again, on your predicament. Your fingers worked tediously, preferring to sort out these problems than address your own.

With one knot being completely relenting, you found yourself thinking how it wasn’t this tangled when you fell asleep. In fact, you didn’t recall having a blanket at all…

Your eyes widened as you slowly rolled over, just enough so you could look over your shoulder. It was too dark to see. Your hand reached to Murphy’s side, touching him lightly. You felt the same scratchy wool instead of his leather jacket. It became apparent that his back was to you, but closer than it previously was. And the blanket you despised so much was covering you both.

You didn’t know what this meant. No one had ever been kind to you before. You weren’t the least bit surprised. All you caused was chaos and misery. No one owed you anything. Murphy, least of all. Yet he took care of you, tended to a single want instead of treating you like a monster. Like you were nothing less than human.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the shadows. He didn’t respond. And for once, you found yourself wishing that he would.

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MAJOR shout for the TikTok, I saw it and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Created by the100babe, captioned: read flags looking green. Can’t disagree 🥴🥵

Xx Lainey

#john murphy #writing #love #the 100 #john murphy fanfic #john murphy x reader #John Murphy angst #John Murphy fic #John Murphy imagine #the 100 fanfic #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fluff #the 100 x reader #the 100 love

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fanfics4all · 7 months

Text

Wax Play

Request: Yes / No Kinktober day 7!

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

John Murphy x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1926

Warnings: SMUT!

Y/N: Your Name

Prompt(s): Wax Play

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“Baby?” I hesitantly asked.

“Are you here?” I added as I made my way into the apartment. I quickly became disappointed when there was no answer. He didn’t come… I sighed and thought about going to get a bottle of wine. I tossed my keys to the side and went to go turn on the lights. A hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging hard until I lost my balance. I fell into a warm solid body. A moment later a I was moving again, disoriented in the dark, until I felt my back touch the wall and the body pressed tightly into me. My hands were trapped behind me, both of them being held by one fist. The person’s head dropped down and sharp teeth nipped at my earlobe.

“Hello, Kitten.” His voice whispered.

“Hey, baby…” I breathed out. He stilled and pushed into me a bit harder.

“What was that?” He asked, an edge to his tone.

“Hello, Sir.” I corrected myself.

“That better, Kitten.” He said. His mouth trailed down from my ear to my neck, placing soft kisses against my skin. I tilted my head to the side to give him better access and sighed happily. I hardly noticed when he brought my hands to my front. I did notice when he locked some cuffs around my wrists, a short chain between them which meant I could still move, but not much.

“I love that you said to put the coat hooks here, so helpful for hanging up our jackets and… other things.” He smirked. He lifted my arms above my head and hooked them just over my head, my elbows bent and dangling on either side of my temples. He then kissed me, his mouth slicked over mine, tongue invading as his hands got to work on the buttons of my shirt. He slid his hands around my ribs. They travelled up to cup my breasts, thumb flicking over my nipples through my bra. There were little electrical pulses being sent through my body. I was frustrated that I couldn’t touch him too, so I nipped at the tip of his tongue. He jerked back and grined down at me evilly.

“Are you sure you want to go down that road, Kitten?” He asked. ‘Sorry Sir’ drifted through my mind for a moment, but instead I raised an eyebrow at him and tugged on my restraints. His grin widened.

“You want it that bad, Kitten? Too bad. We’re going at my pace, and I want to inspect what’s mine.” He paused and looked me up and down.

“Speaking of inspections, were you a good girl?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir.” I answered.

“Let’s see, shall we?” He asked. He stepped back a bit and then his hands on my hips turned me around. It was awkward with my hands locked above me, but I managed. He reached around and popped open the button of my jeans. He tugged the zipper down incredibly slow. He ran his fingers beneath the gap between my waistband and my skin before slipping my jeans over my hips. He helped me out of them, but left my heels on. His hands ran back up my legs to my ass. I wasn’t wearing underwear, just as he instructed me this morning.

“Hmmm…” He hummed. His hands kneaded and squeezed my ass.

“Oh good girl, Kitten.” He said. His fingers wiggled the jewlled plug I put in, just as he asked this morning.

“How has it felt wearing this all day, knowing no one else knew about it, but me, hmm, Kitten?” He teased.

“G-Good, Sir.” I answered.

“Did it make you wet?” He asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He slid his fingers forward until they could feel just how soaked I was.

“Fuck, Kitten.” He moaned slightly. I mewed and arched my back, hoping he might slide his fingers inside and ease the ache. My clit was pulsing and twitching, but he didn’t touch either. He went back to the plug, fingers grasping it lightly.

“You like feeling this inside you?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir. But-”

“But what?” He cut me off.

“But I-I would like it out now please, Sir?” I asked.

“Would you?” He asked, starting to pull, slowly increasing the pressure. I winced and widened my stance, using my muscles to help him until it slid free. I hissed, feeling my asshole contract, throbbing slightly. At least it was out now… My relief was short lived.

“No Kitten, I don’t think so, not yet.” He said. The metal plug was hot from my body when it nudged at my asshole again. I umpleasently moaned and went to step away, but I couldn’t go anywhere. A sharp slap on my ass stopped me in my tracks.

“Stay still!” He ordered. I grit my teeth, but held still as he pressed forward until the plug slid inside once again. He then eased it out again, and in, and out, and in… I whined in protest, but it hardly hurt anymore.

“Let’s just leave this in for right now, shall we Kitten?” He asked with a smirk. He pressed on the plug one last time, my ass accepted it easily.

“Come on, then.” He reached up and unhooked me. He lowered my arms until they rested in front of me, still locked together. I’d only been hooked up for a few minutes, but my shoulders and upper arms were feeling sore. He curled a finger around the chain and turned me around, tugging me forward. I followed him clumsily as he flicked on the light in our room. I blinked, trying to adjust to the light. There were restraints casually resting along the bed, a wand, and a blindfold.

I tried not to smile, but this was amazing. He led me to the bed and took a moment to uncoff on hand so he could take off my shirt and bra. He pushed my hands back above my head and used one of the restraints to secure them to the headboard. Restraints went around both my ankles and tied them to the bottom of the bed. My legs were spread wide open and he had full access. He picked up the blindfold and covered my eyes.

“Green?” He asked.

“Green, Sir.” I whispered back. He secured the blindfold against my head. I felt a firm hand on the inside of my thigh before it was replaced with a cool hardness of the wand. It dug into me slightly as John tied it to my thigh with another restraint. He adjusted it, making sure it was tight up against my clit, then started it.

I flexed at the low buzz, but he barely turned it on. It was more of a tickling sensation, nothing that would get me off. I pouted, but kept my complaints to myself. A warm hand started roaming over my body, up the inside of my legs, down the curve of my waist, and around the curve of my breasts. A hand found it’s way around my throat, squeezing once gently before coming up to cup my cheek. He roughly kissed my lips and it took my breath away. He pulled back and I longed for his hand to be back on my neck. I wondered where he was going to touch me next.

Instead he turned the wand up a few levels. My breath hitched from the abrupt change. My thighs flexed, wanted to close, but I couldn’t. A cold touch ran upp the arch of my foot. I jerked my foot, but couldn’t move it much. Another touch, but this time along the inside of my upper arm. It was cold and wet. Ice…

I wasn’t sure if I enjoyed it or not. It made my muscles twitch and jerk, and with the wand turned up almost as high as it would go, my body was ridgid. I wanted to cum so bad.

“Don’t you dare, Kitten. Not without permission.” He said.

“Can I cum, Sir?” I asked instently.

“No.” He answered just as fast.

I gave a frustrated groan, pulling at my restraints. I pictured him holding the ice cube as he glided it over my warm skin. I was panting, trying to guess where he would glide it next. I cried out when he circled my nipple instead of running it up my inner thigh.

“Please can I cum, Sir?” I begged.

“No.” He answered.

“Please?” I begged more. He didn’t answer, just turned the vibrator up higher.

I yelped and arched my back, pressing my head into the softness of the sheets. Ice ran down my left sife, along my upper arm. It moved across my collar bones down my forehead, and along the bridge of my nose. The streaks of cold were bringing goosebumps all over my body.

Suddenly there was a soft drop onto my stomach. I though it was a drop of water from the ice cube, until my brain registered the scorching heat. Candle wax… I gasped and my stomach muscles tensed, but I was almost immediately distracted by the ice going down my left cheek. Another burn met my left breast and the ice traveled up to the center of my palm. Heat scorched my pubic mound and chills ran up my right foot. A drop of burning wax found it’s way to the inside of my knee. The want was demanding my attention each time I tensted.

“Please! Please, please, please, Sir, please can I cum, please?” I begged.

“Cum.” He ordered me as three drops of hot wax met my skin. One on my hip, my stomach, and directly on my nipple. I screamed as an oragsm ripped through me at the same time the hot pain radiated across my skin. He stopped the wand and pulled it away along with my other restraints. He pushed himself between my lets and pressed the ice cube to my clit. He was holding it there as he thrusted in and out. I was incredibly sensitive from cumming and fought against him. He held me still as he pressed the ice cube harder against me.

I throbbed at the cold ache mixed with the pleasure of his cock dragging over my g-spot. My arms were still trapped above my head. I could do nothing but take it. My clit pulsed in overstimulation, but unable to escape the ice. My eyes widened under the blindfold as I realized I was going to cum again.

“Cumming!” I gasped, unable to form a full sentence. John let go of my leg and ripped the blindfold off of me, still holding the ice cube in place.

“Cum.” He ordered and kissed me. John groaned into my mouth and I felt him filling me up.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as he pulled back. John drop on me and I felt grounded by his weight. After a moment he got off me and letme out of the cuffs. He pulled me into his chest and pealed off the bits of dried wax.

“You alright, Y/N?” He asked.

“Mmhmm.” I hummed.

“We’ll get up and shower in a minute, okay?” He asked.

“Mmm.” I hummed.

“Words baby, yes? No?” He asked.

“Mmm.” I hummed again, I couldn’t really do much.

“I take it you like it then? Since I’ve rendered you speechless?” He asked. I nodded as I was half asleep. John kissed my head and held me close.

“Just relax a bit then we’ll shower.” He whispered and I nodded.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @emo-godess-loves-you @now-imagine @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @vanessa-kom-skaikru @jjmymaybank

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leftingbadly · 3 months

Text

to be loved. | john murphy

a reassurance of an old demon, unhealed wounds that resurface and those that battle with them.

pairing: John murphy x ofc

She was nestled deep into the comforting warm of the couch, the background noise of an old vinyl set played softly in the distance to a tune that made her forget, somehow momentarily, somehow gracefully, of all that she and her friends had been through.

Her skin felt soft to the touch in a way she couldn’t remember feeling it before, a hot shower and soap held a wonder of magic she had naively taken for granted back on the arc. The thought of the big metal ship floating in space involuntarily had her quickening her breathing, she thought of her time spent with her mother and father, those horrible moments she had had to endure when she wasn’t studying in the classrooms for the future career she would be placed in, she thought about her friends in the gardens, where she had spent the better half of her time learning about the plants and their uses, best of all was the time she spent on the ground after she had stepped off that drop ship for the first time, the sharp smell of fresh oxygen that never felt like it was stolen, the sound of life without the pollution of any machine hum.

“You’re doing it again,” Her attention was caught by the boy that entered the room, damp hair clinging to his face as he vigorously tried to dry the wetness that still clung to him from his shower, “You look like a goat, staring off into the distance like that.”

“Words every girl is desperate to hear, Murphy.” She opened the blanket that rested on her as an invitation for him and he took it, resting his body on hers as he settled between her legs. She took the small hand-towel from him and passed it through his hair while he littered soft kisses onto her neck as if he were whispering secrets.

Moments passed like this as he kissed her skin and she ran her fingers across his cheek, his jaw and then to the scar on his neck, her fingers stopped when she felt his body go rigid and his kisses ceased. He sighed then, and got up from his position on her body, the cold abandonment of warmth that left her with his retreat did little in comparison to the look in his eyes.

“Murphy-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it!”

She sat up on the couch, facing his tense form as he stood as far from her as he could.

“Because there’s nothing to fucking talk about, what do you want me to say? I’m sorry that I have this fucking ugly mark on my neck? I’m sorry that I survived, that every day you have to look at me and see a murderer? The fact that I murdered a little girl, huh, is that what you want to fucking talk about?”

“That’s not fair, you know I didn’t mean that, Murphy.”

“Then what the fuck do you want from me?” He screamed the last part; as if it was a question he had asked himself a hundred times over without any solution. As if he failed to understand why someone like her would want anything to do with someone like him and that, despite everything, he was still too selfish a person to push her away.

“I want you trust me!” That wasn’t what he expected. “I want you to know that you can trust me, I want you to talk to me about it because- because I want you to know that it isn’t just you against the world anymore, okay? It isn’t just you. I- I want you to know that as much as you have me, I’ve got you. That every time you wake up at night, and you reach for your throat and you breathe so deeply like you’re trying to inhale all the air around you, that you can turn to me and ask me to hold you. What happened with Charlotte…” She never missed the way his knuckles tightened,” What happened with her was terrible, but it wasn’t your fault she jumped from that cliff, John Murphy. That’s something you seem so damn set on forgetting.” She wished he’d open his eyes and see the truth in hers. “I want you…” She heaved the weight from her chest and put it into the words she so desperately wanted him to hear, “I want you to know that you’re loved. More than anything I want you to know that.”

She must’ve missed how close he’d gotten through her blurry eyes, but the hand on her cheek left nothing to be doubted as he held her face in his hands and wiped her tears and through clearer eyes she noticed the blurriness of his, he was crying too. And he was staring at her in a way that made her heart form a hole inside her chest, she’d never seen him look at her like that before, or maybe he had but she’d never seen it, either way, it left her breathless.

He was shaking his head at her, as if he was trying to tell her he wasn’t worth the tears she spent over him, or the pain she so obviously felt trying to get him to just see how much he meant to her.

He didn’t know what to do, or what to tell her that would make her understand that, okay, I heard you, and I love you too. So he brought her face closer, and he placed a singular, soft kiss onto her forehead. It meant; I love you. It also meant, I trust you, wholly, and completely.

She pulled away first, and she stared into his eyes to ground herself, to bring her back to the reality that he was standing in front of her, and they were standing in the living room of long abandoned home, and that he was holding her so tenderly she felt that she might shatter if he said he loved her out loud.

She grabbed his head and pulled him closer still, and she whispered, “I want you to know that the world had more to give you than the pain you have suffered.” And she gifted him one, sweet, tender kiss to the marks on his neck, and he exhaled so greatly as if he was relieving the pain again, “And I want you to believe that when you receive love, you are worthy of it.”, but this time when he opened his eyes it was her staring back at him, and there was so much love in it that he couldn’t help but believe her.

#John murphy #the 100 #John murphy x reader #John murphy x ofc #John murphy fanfiction #John murphy imagine #fluff #tv show #bbc #authors #tv series #Bellamy blake #the100edit #John murphy drabble #clarke griffin #John murphy the 100

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kilibaggins · 2 years

Text

The Strongest Person I Know | John Murphy

john murphy x reader

Request from Anonymous: Can you do something where John Murphy wakes up to your night terror and helps you through it? please, if not thats fine

A/N: gosh i feel like i haven't written john murphy for a while! this is so! i love him so much and i hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: nightmares about death, murphy's violence at the dropship is mentioned. the nightmare is not described and neither is murphy's violence at the dropship.

Word Count: 463

Murphy wakes up to you crying softly, small little whimpers in your sleep. The nightmare raging through your head is one of the bad ones. The bad ones where Murphy dies, or something goes horribly wrong in every single way possible.

Murphy turns to you, squinting in the darkness to look at you. He sees your face is twisted up in fear and he instantly knows what’s happening. He sits up on his elbow and gently pushes at your shoulder.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N, wake up,” Murphy tries to wake you up, his voice a small whispers, when that doesn’t work he raises his voice. “Hey! Y/N! Wake up, babe.”

You jump awake, pushing slightly away from Murphy. Murphy softly grabs your hand and looks at you.

“Hey, whoa! Just me, it’s just Murphy!” He tries to calm you down, his eyes wild. You takes a few deep breaths and tears fall down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his neck and he holds you close to him with his free arm.

“Yeah, it’s okay, it’s alright I’m here.” He repeats, softly trying to calm you down. He’s not used to this, really. He’s used to being the one who needs comfort in the night from his nightmares.

“You- You were-” You try to get out but you’re cut off by your own crying. Murphy lays back then, pulling you down with him so you’re laying on his chest. He runs his hand up and down your back, trying to relax you as much as he can. “You were dead.”

Murphy sighs sadly, hating the idea that you’d have to dream about something like that. He takes your hand and puts it over his heart.

“You feel that?” Murphy asks, taking deep breaths. You feel his heartbeat very faintly under his skin.

“Yeah,” You say, looking up at him.

“I’m alive. I’m safe, and I’m alive, and we’re here together in this messed up world and I’m not planning on leaving it anytime soon.” He promises you, bringing the hand from his chest to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly. If someone had told you back at the dropship that the same John Murphy that was violent and angry would be holding you softly from a nightmare years later you would have laughed in their face.

“What if…” You trail off sadly, scared. “What if something happens and I’m not strong enough to save you.” You say, thinking about your dream. Murphy softly lets go of your hand and trails his hand over the side of your face.

“Y/N, you’re the strongest person I know,” Murphy says, his tone gentle and serious, “We can make it through all of this together.”

You nod against him and relax into his chest. He holds you close and kisses your head.

It’ll be okay.

#the 100 #t100 #john murphy #john murphy x reader #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagine #request #anonymous request #the100 #john murphy imagine #john murphy fic #john murphy fanfic #my fanfic #ry.original

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grotesquebellamy · 2 years

Text

What We Deserve

asked anonymously: Could you do 24. "you deserve better" with John Murphy please? warnings: minimal proofreading and bad editing :) word count: 1276

To say John Murphy was coming to terms with the relationship the two of you shared was somewhat of an understatement. First he was angry about it, like most things in his life, and he lashed out because of said anger. Picking fights, saying rude things, doing everything in his power to cool that fire that burned in his chest every time he thought about you.

Your relationship started not long after the two of you made it to Earth, you being the caring person you are had checked on him after one of his petty little fights with one of the other delinquents. That one time turned into sneaking into his makeshift tent every night and having conversations until the sun came up.

Murphy is infatuated by you, completely and utterly smitten with every bit of you, not that he would ever admit it. He refuses to acknowledge the blush that takes over his cheeks whenever you're mentioned or the way his heart pounds a mile a minute when you're near.

You two became nearly inseparable even with his lack of commitment, he called it close friends, and you called that bullshit. You know you're not just friends, friends don't look at each other the way you look him and friends don't open up like he does when he's with you. And well, friends don't stop to make out in caves during hunting trips, which you admit is probably the most irresponsible thing the two of you could do, considering the grounders that are currently hiding out in the woods, but that never stops you two.

Although now, nothing is going to stop you, you're going to tell him about your feelings for him, you're going to tell him about how tender he makes your heart and how hazy he makes your mind by doing nothing but being around.

You make your way to his tent at your normal time, taking a second outside to get yourself ready, this could make or break your relationship with him, and honestly, you're nervous to lose him after everything you've been through.

But the nerves seem to fall away as you enter his tent, and you see him in all his glory, shirtless and already laying down, as if he was waiting for you. When he looks up at you his smile is like a sudden beam of sunlight even with it being pitch black outside.

"Hey," is all he says as he beckons you over to him, his arms held out to you. Your body easily molds to his as you lean into his chest. He was only ever like this when it's just the two of you and everyone else is asleep, and it makes you question what it would be like to really be his.

"What happened?" Your finger reaches up and lightly sweeps across his cheek that's adored by a purple and black bruise. But he's quick to brush you off with a shake of his head.

"Nothing, hunting trip gone wrong, don't worry about it," he doesn't seem very interested in talking about it, and you're not one to pry. "What're we talking about tonight?"

You fidget slightly where you're leaned against him and push yourself up into a sitting position, "I have something to tell you." You do your best to sound confident but the nerves are starting to come back to life.

Murphy nods as he falls back against the blanket he uses as a pillow and stares at you expectantly.

"Well you see, I've been wanting to tell you this for a while now," your heart is racing, "and I'm hoping you feel the same way," your cheeks are starting to heat up under this stare, "but I like you John Murphy, and I think I'm starting to fall for you."

He stays there for a second, contemplating his next move, he's never been in this situation before. Yeah, he's had relationships before, but nothing like this situationship, nothing as deep as falling.

He rolls over onto his other side, putting his back to you and essentially forcing you away from him, "I think you should leave Y/N." And your heart shatters.

The next few days are spent with nothing but your longing eyes being stuck on him as he walks around camp and his cold demeanor ignoring anyone and everyone. The nights are harder, no more conversations about your passions and connecting with him on a deeper level, not to mention the warm cuddles that would put you to sleep without fail.

Now you have plenty of sleepless nights that always seem to get colder as they progress, but maybe that's just the lack of his sunshine smile in your life that would warm you from the inside out.

One morning you're woken up to some commotion outside of your tent, and you're quick to make your way out there. You were considered one of the peace makers of the camp and what was happening right now does not sound like peace.

You find Murphy on the ground with his eyes closed and another boy walking backwards shaking his fist, as if he had just punched someone. Which by the look of Murphy's face, he was the one that got punched, and hard too.

The other boy looks ready to come back for seconds, and Murphy still hasn't stood up, he was in no condition to fight with a bloody lip and bruised eye. You're on the ground in a second, your hands finding his face, pressing along his cheekbones, checking for broken bones or fracturs, and he's groaning under your touch.

"Come on," you pull him up onto his feet and into the direction of your tent, where you quickly close the flap behind him as he takes a seat onto your makeshift bed. "What the hell Murphy, what was that all about?"

Murphy groans again and falls back onto the bed, his head landing softly against your pillows. "He's a dick." is all he says.

You roll your eyes and sit down next to him, "And you're not?" You're partly joking, everyone knows Murphy as the camps resident dickhead, you wouldn't be surprised if he thought you were serious.

"Why are you helping me?" he completely ignores your earlier comments.

"You know why," you counter.

He sits up, puts his head in his hands, and mumbles something into them. When you just stare at him instead of answering, he removes his hands and tries again. "I wish you didn't like me," he can tell his words hurt you by the look in your eyes and he does his best to do damage control, "you deserve better, don't you get it? You don't need me, but I need you. You're the only thing in this world that is worth being here for, you mean everything to me. Is that better?"

You're taken aback by his words, completely and utterly speechless as you try to fully take in what he just said. You never expected this from him, he wasn't one to admit his feelings or even say he was wrong, and now he's doing both. A smile starts to break out across your face as you fight back tears, this is everything you've wanted for the longest time and now you have it.

You take his face in your hands once again, minding the bruises that adorn his cheeks and lean forward. He seems to get the gist of it and leans in too, and when your lips connect, it's like fireworks exploding within you. And you know this is exactly where you're meant to be.

a/n: not a fan of the ending but really wanted to get this out as the request has been sitting in my inbox for a while. Anyway hope you like it nonnie!!

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url-is-under-construction · 1 year

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𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐉.𝐌 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Requested by the beautiful @jaywolf840 :

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.

#murphy x reader #john murphy x reader #john murphy fic #murphy fic #john murphy imagine #murphy imagine

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maysileeewrites · 6 months

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a helping hand - John Murphy x Reader || teaser

AN: this is just a teaser, I’ll link the full imagine (that will be set during 1x10) here once I’ll upload it. I know that people probably won’t care about Murphy x reader in 2023, but please lmk what you think, it would really mean a lot!! 🤍

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it.

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest.

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. Just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain.

„Let me“, you say, helping him.

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly.

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“

#john murphy x reader #john murphy #john mother fucking murphy #john murphy imagine #john murphy x you #john murphy the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 #the 100 tv #richard harmon #maysileewrites

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moonylantsovs · 2 years

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RULES | 1.11: THE CALM

summary: the daughter of Marcus Kane gets sent down to the ground with 99 other teenage criminals and a fake guard on her eighteenth birthday, deciding to take charge of the camp along with the two people she never thought she'd get along with after her previous experience with authority and the privileged.

pairings: john murphy x fem!oc, bellamy blake x fem!oc ( slowburn ), raven reyes x fem!oc

warnings: best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, swearing, more jealous!bellamy, hints of wells x raven, fade to black sex scene

series masterlist

t had been almost a week since the bomb destroyed the bridge and there was still no sign of the grounders coming. Everyone knew that it was too good to be true, that the bomb only made the declaration of war more obvious. That was why Bellamy insisted he and Miller taught more delinquents how to use guns.

The grounders were coming, and they needed to be ready when they did.

For Gabriella this week has been nothing but stressful. She was either ordering stuff along camp or keeping watch and when she was not doing that she could not sleep. She tried to pretend it did not have anything to do with the inability to sleep inside of a tent with her cot right next to Murphy's - who kept ignoring her for a reason she was yet to figure out.

The cold shoulder he was giving her confused the shit out of her. When he came back, they had their sweet reunion followed by her constantly defending him against Bellamy, but after that...nothing.

He would come to the tent before her and pretend to be asleep when she got there (which he was not as subtle about as he thought he was( and he would not be there when she woke up most of the time.

Gabriella tried to talk to him, of course, but he did not budge. Maybe it had something to do with the huge amount of guilt she saw almost every time she looked at him, but she did not know what he was supposed to feel guilty about.

"First watch is over. Go relieve Monroe on the south wall. Keep your eyes open."

The Kane tore her eyes from the forest she was looking at when she was spacing out and turned around to see Bellamy giving a delinquent named Sterling a gun and dismissing him. When Sterling walked away, Bellamy flickered his eyes up and to where Gabriella was standing. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face and he swiftly made his way by her side, he looked in the same direction she was looking at before.

"Anything?" He asked curiously, his eyes flickering to the gun visible in the waistband of her pants momentarily before they connected with her blue eyes again.

"No sign of grounders." Gabriella huffed, "It's been a week. Clarke thinks the bomb on the bridge scared them off for good."

"And what do you think?" The male leader asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gabriella sighed, "They are either planning something big or they're coming soon, a lot of them."

Bellamy stared at the side of her face before tugging at her elbow as a signal to follow him further into camp.

"Jasper thinks he can cook up some more gunpowder if he gets some sulfur and Raven says she can turn that into landmines." Bellamy said before a teasing smirk appeared on his face as he looked at her from head to toe. "So be careful where you step, Bambi."

"Hilarious." Gabriella muttered in a deadpan tone and watched her co-leader spin around a tree with a wide grin on his face.

Originally, Gabriella was helping Raven and Jasper make bullets but once she and Raven had the conversation about Finn dumping her because he was in love with Clarke, she decided it was better to get out of her way and focus on leading the camp. Because if she knows anything about Raven, it was that it was not good to be around her when she was pissed.

"What I really need is a thousand more of her tin can bombs so I can roll into their village and blow those grounders to hell."

"Poetic." The blonde said, giving Bellamy an annoyed side glance.

"That's what they want to do to us." He quickly defended himself.

"Yeah, well we can't exactly do that." Gabriella tried to reason, "They have kids in there, Bellamy. We only attack them if they attack us first."

Bellamy sighed, staring at her thoughtfully before huffing and changing the subject, "Any word from The Ark?"

"Radio silence. Raven and I tried to connect our radio here with them again but no one's answering...it's like something's blocking us from them."

"Finally ran out of air." Bellamy muttered, mostly to himself but Gabriella still heard him and flinched at the thought of the people up there dying because there was no oxygen left.

Gabriella pushed her blonde hair out of her face. "Well, Kane was lucky. Dying in the exodus ship crash seems a hell of a lot quicker than Sinclair is going to die when they run out of oxygen."

"Well, that means no one's coming down to save us, Gabi. We have to survive whatever's coming on our own." Bellamy told her, his expression entirely serious.

"We have been doing that since we landed." She sighed heavily, "What's a little more work, huh?"

"Fire!"

Gabriella rushed out of the supply tent she was sharpening weapons in at the sound of a commotion and at the smell of smoke. Her eyes widened at the sight of the smokehouse on fire, her worry only growing once she saw that Murphy was carrying Octavia out of it.

Bellamy rushed past Gabriella and to his sister's aid, scrunching down in front of her with concern written all over his face "Are you okay?"

Octavia coughed, trying to catch her breath but managed a small nod. Gabriella squeezed the younger girl's shoulder and turned around to see if Murphy was okay, "Are you hu-"

He cut her question off by running up to Del with a murderous look on his face. "This is all your fault." He growled, gripping Del's jacket "We told you it was too much wood!"

"Get the hell away from me."

Murphy ignored him and punched him in the face. Gabriella's eyes widened and she was about to stop the fight when Bellamy beat her to it by stepping between the two delinquents.

"Hey, stop!" He ordered, putting a hand on each of the boy's chest, "Save it for the grounders."

"Well, now what the hell are we gonna do? That was all our food!" Octavia said, her question directed towards all three leaders but her eyes mainly set on her big brother.

Gabriella shared a look with Bellamy and Clarke before turning to a few delinquents who were watching them. She nodded towards the fire. "You four, get some water and stop the fire. Then we'll see what we're gonna do."

When the fire was out, Gabriella, Wells, and Clarke slowly approached Bellamy who was staring intently at the burned down smoke-house.

"Any idea what happened?" Clarke asked, looking down at Bellamy.

"Murphy says that Del kept feeding the fire, mostly because Octavia told him it was a bad idea." Bellamy explained, anger and annoyance dripping from his tone obvious.

Wells crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head, "And you trust Murphy?"

"I do, yeah." Gabriella's eyebrows rose at his words and Bellamy was quick to notice her surprise. He locked eyes with her and added. "Well you trust him, and I trust you."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Gabriella chuckled, giving her co-leader a thankful smile. He smiled back and looked down at the ground, tapping his foot nervously.

"We have some wild onions and nuts in the dropship." Wells stated, rubbing his chin in frustration.

"And that's only enough to last us maybe one or two weeks." Clarke added.

Gabriella looked over at the burning remains of the small building before looking back at Bellamy. "Anything good left here?"

"Nothing." He sighed, "It all burned."

"Then we have to hunt." Clarke decided, "Anyone we can spare goes out."

"Yeah because that sounds like a fantastic idea." Gabriella scoffed and put her hand on Clarke's forearm to stop her from walking away. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"With the whole grounder army out there?" Bellamy asked in agreement.

Clarke sighed with a frown on her face. "Look, we can't defend ourselves if we're starving."

Gabriella pursed her lips, turning to look at Bellamy to see his opinion, only to find his gaze already on her. Her shoulders fell in defeat. "I guess we're going hunting."

Hunting parties got almost too rare since the sickness took over the camp. Some of their best shooters and trackers ended up getting sick and then dying and most teenagers were too scared to go into the woods while there were grounders running around and trying to kill as many of them as possible. Gabriella could not blame them which was why nobody was forcing them to go outside the camp walls too often. But before, they had plenty of meat from previous hunts. Now they had no choice.

"Each group takes someone with a gun, and they're for killing grounders, not food. We don't have the ammo. Use the spears for hunting. Get what you can. Be back by nightfall. No one stays out after dark."

Gabriella nodded to herself after Bellamy stopped giving instructions and turned around to stop Wells from approaching Clarke. "You are not going."

"What?" He asked, taken aback by the command.

"As much as I would love for you and Clarke to get closer on the hunting trip, you have to help Raven and Jasper with the gunpowder." Gabriella told him, "And as much as I hate to admit it, you are smart and right next to me at the top of our Chemistry class which means that they could use the help."

Wells let out a huff of defeat before giving her a hesitant nod. "Fine. I'll stay."

The blonde nodded in satisfaction and watched him take one more look at Clarke, who was leaving with Finn and Myles before he brushed past them and out of the dropship.

"Hey, Ella?"

Gabriella turned around to see a much taller dark-haired guy with a spear in his hand. He looked at her with a somehow nervous look on his face and asked awkwardly, "I'm Philip. I was wondering if you had a partner...if you don't, would you mind going with me? I'm a good tracker and I could--"

"Hey, Bambi. Are you ready to go?"

Gabriella's eyebrows furrowed and she turned around to see Bellamy looking between her and Philip with an authoritative look that matched the tone of his voice. The mere sight of him made Philip wish that the ground would swallow him whole.

"What?" She asked in confusion, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You're my partner. I'm carrying the gun, you're carrying the ax. Let's go."

"I was actually gonna go with Philip." Gabriella snapped, annoyed he was trying to tell her what to do.

"Okay, he can come too." Bellamy rolled his eyes again, "Now let's go."

Philip looked down at Gabriella sheepishly before nodding at the leaders and following them outside of the camp walls.

Three hours later - a little bit after dawn - when Gabriella, Bellamy, and Philip came back from the most awkward hunting trip ever (that contained Gabriella and Bellamy bickering and Philip awkwardly pretending that they were not actually flirting), Gabriella directed the two boys to take the panther they caught to a new tent for rations.

After making sure they had everything in control, she made her way toward her tent to leave the unused bullets there. When she entered the tent, she came face-to-face with the sight of Raven sitting on her cot with her face in the palms of her hand.

"Everything okay?" Gabriella asked, emptying Bellamy's rifle and putting the bullets down on the makeshift table.

"I did something stupid..." The mechanic trailed off, her face scrunched up into a grimace.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." Gabriella shrugged, leaning on the table. She was the second smartest person that she knew, there was no way she could-

"I tried to sleep with Wells." Raven blurted out, looking up at the engineer nervously.

Oh.

Gabriella's eyes immediately widened and she stuttered, "Hold on, what?"

"He said some things earlier and I misread the meaning and thought that maybe he was into me, but of course, he's into Clarke. Because everyone just has to have a thing for Clarke."

"Rae..." Gabriella trailed off sympathetically.

"I mean it's not like I have feelings for Wells. I just needed a rebound, something to take my mind off of the whole Finn situation." Raven admitted and Gabriella could not help but jokingly suggest.

"You can always sleep with me."

When Raven did not laugh at her joke, Gabriella looked down to see her looking at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well..." Raven said hesitantly, "It would be a lie to say I haven't thought about it once or twice. We're both fairly attractive and it doesn't have to mean anything."

"So a one-night stand?" Gabriella asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"If you're up for it." Raven quickly said, not wanting to push the closest friend she had to do something she didn't want to do.

Gabriella stepped away from the table and closer to the brunette, "I don't have a problem with it..."

Raven was quick to take her shoes and jacket, then stand up so she was face to face with the blonde, "I've never been with a girl before." She admitted and Gabriella nodded at her words, cupping the side of her face with her hand and leaning in to mutter against her lips.

"Well there's a first time for everything."

It was not that she regrets sleeping with Raven. She was most certainly the most attractive girl she had ever seen, with her long dark hair and stunning doe eyes. And she most definitely knew what she was doing even though she had never been with a girl before.

Something inside Gabriella felt at ease after the hook-up - probably her sexual appetite. She has not had a one-night stand since before she got arrested because everyone (except Bellamy, obviously) definitely had more important stuff to worry about down here. But a big part of Gabriella knows she only did that because Murphy had been ignoring her most of the time he was back, for a reason unknown to her.

"Did it help?" Gabriella asked the mechanic, staring at her sweaty naked back and watching as she swiftly pulled her close on.

"No." Raven said truthfully, "What about you?"

"No." The blonde sighed, laying her hand back and running a hand over her face as her mind immediately flashed back to John Murphy.

Raven pulled her hair in a high ponytail and watched as Gabriella got dressed slowly. She quickly pulled her eyes away from the naked fair skin of the blonde's legs when someone came barging into the tent.

Both girls' eyes widened at the sight of Wells, who looked between them in surprise, stuttering to find what to say.

"What is it, Charming?" Gabriella asked and nonchalantly pulled on her shoes.

"Clarke and Finn aren't back yet." He blurted out, his body shaking in anticipation.

While Gabriella's eyes widened in understanding Raven just rolled her eyes, "Who cares? They are probably at that bunker or something again."

"Myles was with them." Gabriella sighed, quickly pulling on her denim jacket and following Wells out of the tent, with Raven hot on her heels and fresh panic in her chest.

The two girls quickly followed Wells to the supply tent where the Blake siblings and Monty were already waiting.

"What are you waiting for?" Gabriella asked, picking up a rifle, "They have been out there for almost five hours, let's go."

Bellamy took notice of his co-leader's messy hair and Raven's flushed face but decided to brush it off and grab his gun instead "She's right. Grab a weapon and move out. Raven and Octavia you're going together. Wells and Monty, too." He then turned to Gabriella, "Gabi, you're with me."

"I thought you said you were going west. Where the hell are you?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the sound of Wells' annoyed voice through the radio. She could almost hear Bellamy rolling his eyes behind her when he put the radio to his mouth and ordered. "Just keep the moon on your left, and you'll find us."

There was more noise heard from the radio and Gabriella instantly rolled her eyes, thinking it was Wells again but relaxed at the sound of Monty's shaky voice "Is anyone else hearing this signal?"

"Just keep your eyes open." Came Raven's voice.

"𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘹."

"Damn it, Monty, pay attention." Bellamy said in irritation, making Gabriella stop walking and turn around to glare at him.

"Stop being an asshole and give me the radio." Bellamy glared back at her but did not hesitate to hand her the radio. The blonde put the radio close to her mouth and asked, "Do you see anything?" When she got nothing but the sound of static as a response, she spoke again. "Monty? Wells?"

"There is someone in the bushes." Raven said warily.

Bellamy and Gabriella shared a look in the dark before rushing to where Raven and Octavia were supposed to be at that moment. They did not expect to find Wells leaning over Myles' half-conscious body. He had an arrow in his right shoulder and another in his left thigh, an obvious result of a grounder ambush.

"Where are they?" Raven asked instantly, "Clarke and Finn, where are they?"

"Grounders took them." The boy said weakly, wincing in pain.

"Take it easy." Bellamy soothed, "We have to get him back to camp."

"Bell, what about Clarke and Finn?" Octavia asked, looking at her brother.

Raven frowned and got up, trying to keep the tears back. Bellamy looked between Gabriella, Raven, and Wells apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"We can't just leave them here." Wells said, in disbelief that they would even be considering that.

"I second that." Gabriella chimed in before remembering someone was missing and turning to glare up at Wells. "Wait, where the hell is Monty?"

"I don't know." Wells answered truthfully, "One second he was there and when I turned around, he wasn't."

"So you just left him there?" Gabriella asked, raising her voice slightly, ignoring Bellamy's hand on her back that was supposed to calm her down but unsurprisingly only made her more annoyed.

Gabriella Kane met Monty at engineer training when she was fourteen, they were the two youngest trainees so it was natural for Sinclair to put them together. They got along well and talked a lot, whether it was in the hallways before class or around work

Before Gabriella got sent to work with Kyle Wick at Raven's workshop (the shop the trio learned to share after the few months they worked together before Gabriella's arrest) because of her 'surprisingly good progress' the two expected to drift apart and not really talk much again.

After Gabriella and Monty got paired up in history with Jasper and Murphy they started to hang out as a group a lot more often, whenever they had free time. It did not matter whether they were getting high (which was a plus side of being good friends with Jasper and Monty) or doing something class-related. They were together most of the time.

It was no secret Gabriella felt extremely protective of all three boys, specifically Monty and Jasper who were too nice to stick up for themselves. Everyone in the skybox knew it and didn't even want to try to mess with them after what happened to Mbege when he insulted Jasper by mentioning his home situation.

So no, judging by how close they are, you could really say Gabriella definitely was not that pleased with Monty going missing too.

"He wasn't there. I didn't leave him." Wells defended himself, only irritating the blonde more.

"We need to make a stretcher." Raven said calmly and grabbed Gabriella's hand in an attempt to keep her from tearing off Wells' head.

Gabriella just scoffed and brushed past them to jog back to camp. She certainly did not give a flying fuck if Finn died or not. She did not need Finn. She needed Clarke and Monty alive. She needed to know they were safe so she could function normally. She could not bear to lose anyone else.

#the 100 #the hundred #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #john murphy #clarke griffin #bellamy blake imagine #john murphy imagine #raven reyes #octavia blake #wells jaha #raven reyes x oc #raven reyes x reader #bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #john murphy x reader #john murphy x oc

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pogueswrld · 1 year

Note

Can you please do 68. “ Your back is so tense. Would you like a massage? With John murphy please? Maybe drop ship era?

ask and you shall receive 🫡 although this ask has been sent to me months ago and I only started writing it last night 🫣

*•.¸♡ love confessions ♡¸.•*

pairing: john murphy x fem!reader

summary: after a long day on camp, murphy's tense and only wants to be around his best friend. After spending some time together, he starts questioning if she should tell her about his feelings for her. Maybe he should just act on them. After all, actions speak louder than words, right?

warnings: none really, mostly fluff. forehead kisses, love confessions, he fell first and she fell harder. overall really soft yk

note: reader and murphy have been friends since childhood, okie? okie

y/n has always been Murphy’s partner in crime. From the moment they locked eyes in the Ark’s cafeteria that fateful day when they were twelve years old. They’ve never parted each other’s side since. You would never see one without the other. If the trouble found one, you’d know the other was sure to follow.

It didn’t come as a surprise to anyone that when John Murphy’s arrest traveled through the spaceship, y/n’s was coming soon after. And by some strange consequences of the universe’s desire, the pair ended up in cells right beside one another.

It could be the dead of night, and you’d hear the pair chatting through the metal walls separating them. You’d find them gossiping or sharing information they gathered on some of the guards. They’d spend every waking moment together. They made it a point to share a lunch table with just the two of them.

When a couple of guards took John for his daily Earth Skills lesson and never brought him back, y/n started banging on the doors. She was scared of the thought that they’d done something to him, or if he did something stupid that would end him up in solitary lock-up. Or even worse; they’d floated him early.

His 18th birthday wasn’t for a few more months, and she was supposed to go first anyway.

She was near tears and still banging at the doors and screaming for someone to tell her where John was when guards unlocked the door and pushed her back against the wall. Silently shoving her to stay still and placing the metal bracelet around her wrist before forcefully dragging her out of her cell and into a line with all the other kids in the Skybox.

That’s how she ended up on Earth, and with John still.

The oldest on camp, some guy named Bellamy, recruited John and a couple of his friends to run the place. y/n didn’t necessarily agree with John’s methods, but he was still her friend and she was always there for him at the end of the day.

She was already in their shared tent (which they had both agreed to since there were around 100 kids in this camp and not nearly enough resources for all of them) when he strutted in. He paused by the tent’s zip door, watching the way she buried her hands in her hair and softly rubbed at her scalp. Her jacket and top were discarded somewhere and the thin tank top she wore underneath them was barely doing its job of covering her. John’s eyes remained on the muscles of her shoulder blades, the way they moved with each flex of her arms. He was mesmerized.

But this was his best friend, and he wasn’t about to make this weird. So he cleared his throat and continued on his way to his assigned side of the makeshift bed they’d been sleeping in. y/n turned to him, noting the way his storm cloud eyes seemed sunken in, his tense shoulders, and his hollowed cheekbones. Her brows furrowed in worry, huddling together between her eyes.

She turned completely to face him, “What’s up with you?”

John shifts his eyes to her face, he had been dozing off to nothing. He scanned her face. She somehow seemed so much prettier than she was that morning. With glowing skin and more defined lips, she looked ethereal in the muffled light of their tent.

“What?” He mumbled, realizing that she had asked him a question and he dozed off staring at her, his eyes jumping from one feature of hers to the next.

She smiled, an action so soft and gentle it made his heart drum. “What’s up with you John? Are you okay?”

He had no idea what she was saying, but he was watching her lips move. He hummed, no idea to what, and slightly nodded. y/n quickly caught up. She knew her best friend, and he only disconnected from reality when it was too much for him.

She sighed and crawled across the bed, she sat behind him. Her hand gently climbed up his tensed back before coming to rest on his shoulders. She let out a sigh before letting her hands climb lower to his chest, her arms coming to hold him from behind as her chin rested on his right shoulder.

John leaned back his head, resting it on her shoulder, and slightly closed his eyes.

“Your back is so tense. Would you like a massage?” y/n mumbled softly. She didn’t want to interrupt the gentle atmosphere they’d created in their little bubble. He hummed.

She slowly pulled back until her hands came to his shoulders again. She let her thumb work in a circular motion on the pressure points of his shoulder blades as the rest of her fingers worked on squeezing the muscle. John breathed a sigh from his nose, his tense back slowly slouching in her hold. She let her hands climb lower, pushing and rubbing at his back until he was at complete ease.

She only let go when his head lulled back to face her with both of his eyes closed. She smiled and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead that shot both of his eyes open to meet her glowing ones. Her smile forced her eyes to squint in the cutest way, and John pulled himself back together before turning to face her.

He sighed and made a show of cracking his back and neck, which she cringed at. “Ew, stop that.” He chuckled, “I’ll get you to do it one day.” She pulled one side of her lips upward in disgust, “Yeah, as if.”

Silence washed over them as they both adjusted their positions so they were more comfortable facing one another. The noise of the kids in camp was drowned out by the crackling fire, and everything smelled of burnt wood. The teens had their eyes locked on one another without a single word passing between them, and they didn’t need any.

For the longest time, y/n thought about her feelings for John. What they meant for the both of them, and how they’d change their dynamic if she was to ever speak of them. Unbeknownst to her, he was thinking the same.

John remembers the first time he felt his heart race to something y/n did for him. She had punched a kid and broken his nose after trying to bully John, she wasn’t having it. He had kept his eyes glued to her, a small splatter of blood tainted her cheeks from the blow of her hit, and she turned to him with a grin that made his stomach drop. They were fourteen.

y/n knew she cared for John more than just a friend when they broke the law for the first time together. Stealing candy from the main kitchen and chewing at them within the air ventilators to steer clear from the guards. The adrenaline pumping through her had her clutching to him and when they both calmed down, she realized he had his arm wrapped around her waist and his hand holding her tightly to him. It burned her face. They were fifteen.

Then again when she traded some of that candy for weed from Jasper and Monty. In the haze of the high, Murphy looked more handsome than the ridiculously boyish she’s grown to know. It made her realize just how much they had grown and how much closer they had gotten. Both emotionally and physically. He was leaning in to kiss her, and she was going to let him, had she not panicked. They were sixteen.

She wasn’t quite ready for their relationship to change back then. And even though it had been a year and some, she believed she still wasn’t. But the way he looked at her then, with his beautiful storm cloud eyes, dissecting every piece of her and trying to claw at her mind to guess her thoughts, she thought about how ready she was.

They were aching to hold each other, but neither one was ready to make the first move, fear paralyzing their every move. Just when the ache got too much to handle, when his heart tugged painfully in his chest, begging him to reach out and hold her hands, to wrap his own around hers, to pull her close enough to smell the burnt wood on her, to keep her close enough to feel her heat radiate into his own, John turned away from her. And somehow that was worse.

Unlike John, y/n was completely present when she was drowning in her thoughts. She saw the conflict of whatever he was thinking about clearly on his face. She saw the way his content expression fell and his lips pulled themselves into a pout. She noticed the way his hand moved from their place on his thigh to his chest, trying so hard to discreetly rub at where his heart sat within his ribcage.

She wished she had his ability to contain himself. She doesn’t. Which was why she was the one to reach out, to hold his hand and push herself closer to him, to rub at the back of his hands and try so hard to not kiss him.

She was concerned for him though, which was why she held the hand against his heart with furrowed brows, “What’s wrong?” She whispered, her thumb still caressing the space between his thumb and index. Her worried tone brought tears to his eyes, and for once, tough and bad John Murphy whimpered.

She immediately wrapped her hands around his shoulders, holding him tightly as if he were broken pieces of glass that if she held tight enough would be able to glue themselves back together, and it broke his heart.

He remembers the day he heard that she’d been arrested. He had never felt such fear course through him, and it wasn’t the same kind of fear as when he lost his father, this was far more intense and terrifying. He kept asking for her, asking about her, the need for answers made him scream at the door of his cell until Kane showed up at his cell to tell him of her crime and that she will also be held in the Skybox.

She was older than him, so he knew he was going to lose her before she lost him. And the idea petrified him. He cried about it to her once, and she cradled him like she was doing now, silently and gently. He promised himself that, since they were both set to die in a year’s time, he wasn’t going to contain himself when it came to her. He wanted to stand bare before her, tell her everything he’s ever thought of her, tell her everything he’s ever felt for her. Yet somehow they go to live, and he still wanted to hold up that promise.

So he pulled up his head and stared her square in the eye, and even though there were tears trickling down his cheeks, he still looked as pretty as ever. y/n cupped his cheeks and wiped away his tears, her eyes pooling her own as she held them back.

John inhaled a deep breath and blinked his tears away, “I love you.” He mumbled, his face barely inches away from her own, and a fierce look in his eyes. Immediately, she knew exactly what he meant, but the shock of it made her blink rapidly back at him. “What?” She breathed.

“I love you, y/n. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I’ve loved you from the moment you stepped into my life. I’ve loved you every time you punched a kid for me. I’ve loved you every time you irritated the shit out of me. I’ve loved you every time you pulled away when I tried to kiss you. I loved you when I thought I was going to lose you, and I love you still. I love you.”

y/n’s lips had parted, and her eyes darted back and forth between his. “I’m so sick of holding that back, of not loving you the way I want to, and if you don’t feel the same way that’s fine, but please don’t pull away from me now.” And he leaned into her, his hand grabbing hold of one of her hands and pressing it against his chest to feel his drumming heart as his face slowly closed the gap that stood between them for years. Then, his lips softly pressed onto hers.

From the moment he had started talking, fireworks had gone off within her at an erratic pace, her heart raced against her thoughts and blood rushed all throughout her body. When she felt his lips lock onto hers, she was gone. Her mind blanked, her eyes closed, her hand clutched at his shirt, and she kissed him back with the same gentleness, scared to scare him off. When he tried to pull away, to look at her, the hand that had been cupping his face held him tighter. She held his face with both of her hands before pulling him back to her lips, kissing him with a burning passion that reassured him more than any words ever could.

And finally, they were loving each other the way they had wanted. The ache in his heart dimmed to nothing as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close enough to his lap. She straddled him and slowly pulled away from his bruised lips. They remained silent as they caught their breaths, their eyes closed in worry that this might just be another dream. But then he chuckled lightheartedly, and she followed.

John opened his eyes and stared at her, nothing but love and adoration sparkling in his gray orbs, and the happiest smile y/n had ever seen on him tugged at his lips. She grinned back at him, her teeth burying themselves in her bottom lip and he sighed. “I love you too, you know.” She mumbled, giggling slightly. “I can never give a little speech like yours though, but I love you so much.” John barked a laugh at her words then nodded.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked.

She melted in his hold, “Yes, and please don’t stop this time.”

#john murphy #john murphy the 100 #john murphy imagine #john murphy x reader #the 100 #john murphy smut #bellamy blake

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inmyownlaine · 1 year

Text

John Murphy x Reader: Only Me

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death, cussing, angst

Word Count: 1494

Part: 1 2

Series: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Summary: Murphy’s kind gesture in the bunker has thoroughly interfered with your cold attitude and you couldn’t be more upset. Confronting him only makes it worse, causing his friends to jump in on the insults. However, Murphy reminds them that only he gets to talk to you that way. No one else.

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You wanted to tell. Never in your life did you think you would want to divulge such insignificant information. Surviving was not about the pitter-patter of your heart. It was about keeping it intact, protecting it with layers of armor, shooting anyone that threatened it.

The only problem was you didn’t have anyone to tell. Which, of course, confused you. So what if you were a tad vindictive? And callous. Maybe even bitter. But only just a smidge! If people couldn’t look past your absolutely awful qualities and see the sliver of graciousness that oozed through one singular pore then that was their problem.

So instead, you let it burn inside you. The secret festered and boiled, creating a bubbling sensation in your stomach, like a rancid potion in a rusty cauldron. It was enough to spend the majority of your lunchtime stabbing at the food instead of eating it. Imagining that it was Murphy, wishing he had never been kind to you. If he had just left you alone, you wouldn’t feel this way.

Then you could stab him in peace, rather than feeling the twinge of guilt for pretending the fork was going through his pale skin.

A trio of girls walked by. You watched dreamily, a curled fist resting under your chin. Their long locks of hair billowed behind them, cascading in waves down the middle of their back. Even with their dingy clothes and dirty nails, they paraded down the pathway with pouty lips and sultry stares.

But they smell awful you thought, nose wrinkling in disgust. And their hair had to be just as gritty, if not worse, than yours. They weren’t any better than you. They just had the confidence to pretend.

You straightened your back, realizing how deluded you were being. Their portrayal was all fake. They had to put on a show. But you? Your iron fist on every single person, item, and decision was irrefutable. Everyone did what you said, when you said it. Whether it was from fear or anger, you couldn’t care less.

Swiping the hair from your eyes, settling it behind your ear, you regained the part of you before the bunker. All it took was diving into a good, old-fashioned passtime of yours. Comparison and judgment made the world go round. And besides, everyone needed it. How would they ever know their place?

Yes, things were starting to fall back into place.

And then Murphy trudged into the room.

You hunched over, captivated and breathless at the fluency of his steps. His shoulders followed in graceful tandem, swinging in time with his hips. Murphy was poetry in motion. Of course you could tell, being such an avid consumer of Dickinson and Keats.

Not.

You averted your eyes, coming face to face with the endless woods; silence and nature being your only two companions. This was how you preferred it. The trees never questioned you. The cloud never made you feel inferior. A beautiful hush never broke your heart.

This is how you preferred it.

Right?

The sides of your head started to pulse, like the kick from a pistol. It reverberated and rang across your entire forehead, down the ridge of your brows and inside your eye sockets. Nothing was going to solve this except your sleeping bag.

You tossed the leftover food over your shoulder and pushed off the ground. Although, your plans had some competition. With Murphy sitting in your path, chatting to a few of his equally disturbed friends, he was unknowingly fighting the bed for your attention.

This was going to be the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It was as simple as placing one foot in front of the other, acting like you never noticed how incredibly gorgeous he looked with his fresh new wounds, and traveling to the only destination you intended. Everyone knows that sleeping is more important than boys.

You swerved around his group, desperately battling the urge to see if he was watching you. If he even knew you existed.

“Look away,” one of the boys suggested. Fair enough.

“Wasn’t even looking,” another replied. Okay, that was a little much.

You cocked your head in their direction. A snide remark just itching to escape your dehydrated lips, but catching behind your teeth. You couldn’t even form the words to be rude when Murphy was in your line of sight. And he wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting, minding his own business, and definitely not worrying about you.

But that didn’t matter. Murphy was like…

God, you needed to read poetry.

Ew, what?

“Need something?” Murphy questioned. His eyes were like - they were blue - like - blue…berries! And the way his hair fell past his eyes, parted down the middle, was - attractive. But like, a lot. The shoulder pads on his jacket were spiky. There. That was all the description anyone needed of him.

And really the only thing you could provide.

“Not from you,” you snapped. But then you thought about it. “Actually, yeah. Stop inserting yourself in my life.”

“I’m - not?” he said slowly.

“You’re in my way. Always.”

“Since when has that been a problem for you?” Murphy jeered. “I thought you liked a little challenge. Speaking of which, I think you’re overdue.”

“For what?”

His blueberry…His eyes shimmered with mischief. It reminded you of the glint that reflected off his favorite blade. One that your throat had grown so accustomed to. A sinister thought sprouted in the recess of your brain as you found yourself wishing he would, just to be pressed against you. To touch you, breathe down your neck, make every hair on your body stand at attention.

Would he notice that you would inhale deeply? Not out of anguish, but just to take in his full scent. That his warmth would be the cause of your rapid heart instead of the adrenaline of near death? You might even expose yourself further, rolling your head to the side, trying to lay it next to his cheek…

“Looks like you already know,” he said to you.

“Try me.”

Murphy began to rise, but the boy to his left stuck out his arm. This caused a red alarm to set off in your mind, blaring and flashing with urgency to take action. Without hesitation your gun was aimed, looking down the sight. Murphy didn’t seem too impressed, shoving the hand away.

“I’ll take care of it,” his friend offered.

“Not a chance,” Murphy told him.

“Come on, man. We could end this right now. All of us. We could kill her and no one would bat an eye. No one would care. We might even get a reward.” He chuckled as he said the last part, smug and reckless. He didn’t deserve poetry. He was every bit of phone directory. Useless beyond imagination, full of information that exactly zero people cared about. Just as worn down as the revolting yellow pages, yearning for a time when someone would find convenience in his miserable existence instead of immediately tossing him to the side with all the other nugatory things.

“Quit,” Murphy demanded.

His friend didn’t understand. He scoffed at Murphy, copping an attitude while his tongue grazed over his teeth. “I don’t get you.”

“There’s nothing to get. Just shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything you wouldn’t say!”

“That’s the point, jackass,” Murphy growled. His voice rasped, like the crunching of large gravel. Every single microscopic entity that occupied your body zinged off your bones, your veins, your skin. You felt a flush starting at your toes, crawling up to your face. In the pursuit of playful threats, Murphy made you feel visible. Which, turns out, was not the best look on you.

“You don’t get to say those things to her. Only me. Got it?”

Got it. Got it, bad. Murphy wanted to say something else to you, but there was no time. If you couldn’t outrun your feelings, the least you could do was outrun him. Try to place as much distance between the two of you before you started replacing all the knife scenarios with his hand.

God. Murphy could slam you against the wall with no trouble. Those slender fingers would grasp your neck, digging in his nails so hard they left crescent moons. Splotches of purple and blue would appear around them, painting a stunning portrait of the nighttime sky in the shape of his hand.

He would be proud of it, too. After all, it’s not too often that an artist creates a masterpiece. Let alone one that he could perfectly replicate repeatedly, and for the canvas to never tire of the same patterns and colors.

It was too late. There was nothing left for you to do. And there was only one person that could fix this now. You burst into Clarke’s tent, startling her enough to make her draw her gun. “I need to know poetry. And you’re going to teach me.”

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In my feelings, per usual. Massive shout to ryaniq.aep for creating edits that make my heart soar. Season one Murphy is too much to handle.

Look forward to the third part of this little trope series soon! I hope it’s okay that the reader is more on the chaotic side, I’ve actually really enjoyed writing for someone a little devilish. Their internal thoughts kind of crack me up.

Xx Lainey

#john murphy #writing #love #the 100 #john murphy fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy imagine #john murphy x reader #john murphy fic #the 100 fanfic #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagine

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