John Murphy (one shots)

Trapped

A/N: she is trapped in the lighthouse with Murphy and eventually decides to give in to him.

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, swearing, drinking (???).

_•_•_

I think I might lose my mind in here. I swear to god if he makes one more sarcastic comment or joke, I'm going to rip his head off. I didn't ask for this, you know. Who would ask to be trapped in a bunker with John Murphy? No one, that's who. The shower and booze obviously help regulate my moods but he's persistent. Sometimes, it's like he's trying to make me murder him. Especially when he plays those stupid movies.

I told him to cut it out days ago but he still hasn't listened. He needs me to slap him, I think. Maybe that'll make him rethink his assholeisnness. But probably not. I'm not one to believe in miracles.

I open yet another new bottle of whiskey and grab a crystal glass. I pour the liquid into the glass, grabbing another and filling it to the brim as well. I set the bottle down and take the drinks to the couch, placing both on the glass coffee table. I cross my legs and turn so I'm facing Murphy who's begun staring at me.

He smirks at the drinks. "What's this then? Finally decided to get drunk with me?"

"Even though I don't trust you in the slightest, yes. I wanna play a drinking game," I say, shrugging.

He grins wider. "I'd suggest truth or dare but there isn't much scope for dares in here..."

"Just truth then," I say, nodding.

He glances down my frame for a second before nodding. "Fine. You go first."

I sigh, trying to think. I'm used to playing with Jasper and Monty. Though we would run out of questions easily since we knew each other so well. Of course, I don't know where they are or even if they're alive. I push the thoughts from my head, meeting Murphy's eyes.

"Who was your last?" I ask, shrugging a bit.

His eyebrows shoot up as he smirks still. "You wouldn't know her."

I grin. "That doesn't mean you can't give me a name."

He shifts. "Ashley DeSanto."

I nod. "Your turn."

"What about you then? Who was your last?" he asks, grinning again.

I smile back. "Harper McIntyre."

His eyebrows raise higher than I've ever seen them. "You and Harper?"

I shrug. "I would tell you it was a one time thing but that'd be a lie."

He smirks, nodding and leaning back into the cushions.

"How long did the Grounders torture you before you told them everything about us?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He breathes a laugh, shaking his head a bit. "Three days."

I nod, looking at the carpeted floor.

"When they tried to hang me, why did you cut me down?"

I take a sharp breath, remembering that day. I had woken up late to shouts coming from the forest. And when I had dragged myself to the mob, I found Murphy hanging by his neck above them. Without a second thought, I grabbed the axe from Bellamy's belt. He stopped me, telling me that Murphy had killed Wells. I didn't even think. I didn't need to. The words toppled over my lips before I could stop them. I told him that Murphy was with me the night before and then cut him down. It felt more like a reflex than a calculated action.