A collection of one shots I have written about my beloved trash son John Murphy.
I take requests if you would like one specially made, only rule is that I write from a Y/N perspective only. No one shots featuring your name.
(Cover created by aya-f...
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"What do you mean I don't have a tent anymore?" Murphy exclaims angrily at Bellamy.
You were helping Clarke and Octavia tend to the sick after Murphy had brought an infection back to camp. Your father had been a doctor on the ark, and you were following in his footsteps until you had been arrested. You were caught stealing medicine for a little girl, but you don't regret it since she got to live because of your actions.
"We needed the extra supplies and since you were banished, we weren't going to let them go to waste," Bellamy explains to him using his 'I'm the boss' tone. Sighing, Murphy looks down at the ground and runs a hand through his dirty hair.
"Fine, but where am I going to sleep now?"
"You'll have to share with someone."
Murphy laughs grimly, "and who would that be?" He sneers. He knew no one would want to share with him, everyone despises him. Bellamy looks around the drop ship until his gaze lands on you; your eyes lock together. You know what was about to happen; you were credited with being the nicest delinquent around.
"Y/N," Bellamy yells over to you, "come over here, I need to ask you something."
You place the medical supplies you had been sorting down. Rising from your kneeling position you walk towards the pair. You look at Murphy, and take in his appearance: his clothes are torn, stained with dried blood, and dirt is caked onto his pale skin, a sharp contrast. Murphy's wounds still haven't been cleaned, you realize.
"What's up?" You question Bellamy, raising one eyebrow.
"Murphy is going to be sleeping in your tent, with you, until further notice."
"What? My tent barely has enough room for me, let alone both of us," you protest crossing your arms over your chest and jutting your hip out.
"I guess you'll have to make it work." Bellamy walks off, leaving no room for discussion. Sighing, you turn towards Murphy, who had been watching the ordeal with a bored expression.
"Well, come on then." You motion for him to follow you as you lead the way to your tent. As the two of you make your way towards your tent you can hear people whispering, all of which concern the boy that is trailing after you. Murphy is playing strong though, keeping his head up high and facial expression locked into a firm glare straight ahead. One of the comments catches your attention, it's louder than the others, the person obviously didn't care if anyone heard them.
The boy had said, "She better be careful, or next thing you know she'll be murdered by that psychopath." You whip your head around without even thinking.
