The 100 Imagines/OneShot

John Murphy: One Sided Love

John Murphy, the world's biggest jerk. Literally. Even the grounders had proven to be nicer than this unrelenting human full of aggression and pain. Pain. That's what no one saw, all they noticed was his flaws. His tantrums, his actions of violence and hatred. No one took even a second to question why. But you did. You saw him for what he was, broken and afraid. If you stuff a young boy into a cage full of pain and sorrow, eventually he will begin clawing at the bars, eventually he will self destruct. When you looked at him you didn't see a murdering psychopath, you saw a young boy whose family and friends had betrayed him. When you called out to him, you didn't call him asshole, you called him friend. When you thought of him, you didn't think of Murphy, the broken and damned, you thought of John, the young man who fought to stay alive. From day one, you were amused by him, at first you thought him just another arrogant teenager. But as the days grew longer and his anger proved more violent then others, your humor turned to affection. As everyone hated John, you simply wanted him to let you in. You always cared for him, in the shadows. No one, not even him, noticed how you made sure he ate before you, or how you noticed he was shivering at night so you sacrificed one of your blankets to him while he was sleeping. No one noticed how you screamed louder than anyone as they beat him and tied him up. No one noticed how you pushed through everyone and clawed at the ropes as they hung him, they simply pulled you off and shoved you back into the sea of people. No one noticed how you stopped sleeping when he was banished, or how you watched the trees for him every day. Bellamy, the one person you truly hated, was the first to put it together.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing?" Bellamy asked as he walked up to you. With your bag packed and ready to leave, you slung it over your shoulder and kept walking.

"Hey!" he said grabbing your shoulder and spinning you around. "I'm talking to you!"

"I'm leaving Bellamy! I figured I'd leave with actual supplies before you banish me." You say, venom dripping in your voice. Bellamy scoffs and steps back, surprised that someone actually yelled at him. You jerk your arm away from him and he crosses his arms.

"You're going to find him aren't you?" He asks, smirking and you scowl.

"Fuck off." You go to leave, but he follows you.

"He doesn't like you Y/n, he doesn't even know you exist. Hey!" His words follow you until you reach the gate, he promptly gabs you again only tighter this time.

"You're not going out there, Y/n. Forget it." You attempt to jerk yourself away, but fail.

"No one gets to leave, end of story. You're staying."

"I can leave if I want Bellamy! You can't dictate what I do!" You shout loudly, drawing the attention of the others. Bellamy scowls and draws you closer to him.

"No one. Leaves. Alive." He says in a low and threatening tone, you look up at him and sneer.

"Murphy did."

"Murphy was banished." You scowl again, anger flooding you. You get up close to his face a whisper harshly.

"Then banish me, I'll frame myself for murder if I have to." Bellamy violently jerks you back, toward the camp.

"Go build the fucking wall."

You stood there, glaring at him before finally relenting and doing as you were told, figuring it would be easier to leave at night when no one would notice. You planned to try again, but soon changed your mind when Murphy showed up a few days later. That's when the rest of the camp noticed. You were the first to run to him, the first to carry him inside, you were the one to sit by him, cradling him inside the drop ship while Bellamy threatened to kill him. And no matter how much Clarke tried to force you to leave, you stayed with him while she tended to his wounds. He was currently asleep for most of the time, Clarke quietly working to stitch him up. Pain filling your eyes as you look down at him. You felt sick as Clarke remarked about the torture wounds, you gripped his hand tightly as she dapped his wounds. He suddenly jerked in his sleep and groaned, pain and fear covering his face.

"Shhh, it's alright John, you're safe." You speak quietly, gently touching his face. His body relaxes after a minute and you smile, a single tear falling down your cheek.

"You care for him." Clarke remarks, not looking up from her work. A faint smile dances across your face; you continue to stroke his face as you respond.

"I guess I do."