Request: Hey, would you do a Murphy imagine where him and the reader are both touch starved and end up cuddling and being really affectionate with each other? It can be smut or not, I'll be happy either way. ?

Word Count: 2206

Warnings: None! So rare for me.

A/N: Okay so, I had to honestly google what touch starved meant so I did my best to get this correct! Please note for future reference for any requests (and to warn anyone following my long term projects) that I DO NOT write smut. I can't even read smut without cringing and squealing like a child, so there is just no way I can write it even if I wanted to. I hope you enjoy my fluffy, soft Murphy instead. It was a pleasure to write about my other fav

Requests are open! I'd love to write more of your ideas (Especially if they are not Bellamy. He's my top boy but sometimes ya girl needs a break!)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

It wasn't intentional, the way that I had isolated myself from the rest of camp. There was a certain coldness in my nature that the others couldn't understand and what people don't understand, they disregard. Whilst they celebrated their freedom by openly taking turns in each other's tents, I hid on the sidelines. I felt that such intimacy had to be built on a foundation of trust and I soon discovered that no one wanted to invest time into the girl who pushed everyone away.

Instead, they neatly organised me out of sight and that meant sharing a tent with Murphy, the other social outcast. I was the only person who didn't cast him as a monster, so I supposed that it made sense. Our forced shared time was spent exchanging defensive verbal attacks and trying to deny that the treatment we received from everyone else affected us.

The tent was silent tonight, as I sat quietly in my thoughts and tried to suppress the loneliness that blossomed in my chest. I wasn't sure where Murphy was; we never had enough of a friendship to keep track of each other before, but since he'd returned to camp from his time as a captive of the grounders, he was more distant than ever. I never imagined that I would miss his well targeted insults and brash behaviour, but after he was exiled, I realised that these interactions were the only socialisation that I received.

I caught the sound of stomping footsteps barely seconds before Murphy crashed into the tent in a burst of anger and I flinched at his dramatic entrance. He paced around the tight space with furious energy radiating off him in waves and I peered up at him with wide eyes.

Although I was used to him lashing out by now, he would usually take off to calm down and I was surprised that he had allowed me to see him in such a state. He halted abruptly, as if he had only just noticed my presence and glared down at me with a cold scowl.

"What are you looking at?" He spat venomously and as he turned to face me, I noticed that there was a large cut on his cheekbone. He had a fresh black eye developing and under closer examination, I realised that his clothes were ruffled in a way that implied that he had been thrown around.

"Been starting fights again?" I sighed, as I regarded in disappointment. My initial hope had been that he would settle back into camp with time, but he still appeared from scuffles on a regular basis. He scoffed as he shook his head and bared his teeth at me in an offended manner.

"I didn't start shit." He defended, as he threw me a dirty look and I looked away to avoid his judgement. "What's it to you?" He growled and I hummed quietly in response. It was unusual for him to behave this aggressively with me and his jagged movements were more suited to a caged animal. He dropped heavily onto his sleeping bag and swiped at the cut on his cheek in a frustrated gesture that only worsened the bleeding. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for an attack as I forced my face into a gentler expression.

"That cut needs a clean." I advised in as even a tone as I could manage and he peeked at me with suspicion from the corner of his eye. For a few moments, I waited for him to speak, but he continued to examine me closely until he simply shook his head at me dismissively. Removing his mud stained jacket, threw it to the side in frustration and reclined onto his back. He stared up at the tent ceiling in a manner that tried to seem careless but I could still sense the tension from him. There was a small stream of blood slowly trickling down the side of his face and unable to ignore it, I carefully stood to grab a bottle of water and a rag. My movements were nervous as I approached him and he surveyed me warily, his guarded nature unable to expect any kindness. Calmly, I sat beside him and he flinched into an upright position as he analysed me.

"You can't just go to sleep with it like that, Murphy." I stressed, inwardly concerned that he could develop an infection, but he just scoffed at me.

"It's fine." He insisted with an adamant glare and I arched a brow at him, silently scolding him for being irresponsible. He chuckled darkly under his breath as he scanned me and from this close, I could tell that the cold expression that he wore was forced. "What do you care?" He muttered in a sharp tone and I viewed him sympathetically.

"If you're not going to take care of it, I'll clean it." I stated as I shuffled closer to him and his eyes widened at my words.

I opened the bottle to dampen the rag and could feel him watching my every move closely. Once everything was ready, the last step that remained was for me to touch him, something that I had never done before. My eyes met his anxiously and he maintained a firm face, despite my obvious discomfort.

I reached out to him so slowly that it was agonising and my heartbeat was pounding as I inched into his space. My fingers brushed across the side of his face to push away the hair that was sticking to the cut and I tucked it tenderly behind his ear.

As I did this, I noticed that his defences softened and the sharp anger that was often in his eyes had been replaced with a vulnerability that was unrecognisable on him. His skin was warm under my fingertips and I felt a jolt of electricity at the contact. Carefully, I wiped the cloth across his cheekbone to remove the dried blood that had formed there and I was stunned to witness him tilt his head to push his face against my hand in a movement that seemed instinctual. I felt a slight flutter in my chest as I finished cleaning the area and grabbed a small dressing to place over the cut. With every contact, I lingered slightly longer and I smoothed the dressing into place with indulgent strokes along the edges.

Murphy's eyes flickered closed and I watched as tiny goosebumps spread over his skin. I knew that I didn't need to touch him any longer, but there was something addictive about it that I couldn't explain. Placing down the supplies, I leaned slightly closer as I took the risk of cupping his face in my hand. His breath hitched and his eyes snapped open to meet mine with an intensity that startled me. I flinched reflectively and began to remove my hand, but he caught my wrist and wordlessly brought it back into place.

A warm smile filled my lips at this silent display of trust and I returned my hand to his cheek to run my thumb carefully along his jaw. He practically melted under my touch and the keen sparkle in his eyes made me wonder if he'd ever been touched with tenderness before. In this moment, I realised that I craved the contact as much as he seemed to and couldn't actually remember the last time that I'd experienced such a feeling of intimacy with anyone. I caressed gentle lines along his face and without intending to, we gradually closed the space between us until I could feel his breath on my cheek. I felt an overwhelming wave of excitement as the tip of my nose bumped his and before I could question it any further, Murphy pressed his lips to mine in a sudden surge of desperation.

The way that he kissed me was frantic and it was clear that the light contact between us had awoken a hunger in him that was equally surprising for us both. The passion he exuded flowed over me in waves and as he wound his hands into my hair, I became aware of a starvation at the back of my mind that I had ignored for longer than I cared to admit. I fell into Murphy like he was the air that I needed to breathe and he wrapped his arms around me to press us together tightly. Each movement of his lips was a fresh high and although the kiss had started suddenly, I realised that he made no effort to progress things or to push me for anything more. He seemed exhilarated to simply indulge in my lips and his adoring touch filled all of my senses.

When we finally parted for air, his sultry eyes studied me with fascination and I struggled to catch my breath. I glanced around awkwardly as the reality of the moment returned to me and although I knew that I should probably walk away from the troubled man, I couldn't tear my eyes from his unguarded face, which was still a wonder to me. My logical mind tried to force my body to return to my sleeping bag, before I led him to expect more than I could give, but as I turned slightly away from him, he flinched and grabbed my shoulders.

"Don't." He pleaded in a small, uncertain voice and I examined his face with confusion. He shuffled awkwardly on the spot and couldn't meet my eyes as he sighed thoughtfully. "Just...lay with me." He muttered under his breath and I struggled to keep my brows from rising in surprise. My heart couldn't bear the helpless look that he wore and I still felt the strange sense of yearning in my chest that screamed at me to stay. I took a deep breath as I nodded at him in a show of faith that I had never risked before.

There was a coy smile on his lips as he observed me before he carefully slid his shirt over his head. I was silently stunned by the assortment of scars on his skinny body and the evidence of what had been done to him was more horrifying than I'd ever considered. In a moment of clarity, I understood the craving for comfort that Murphy displayed and I allowed him to guide me to lay on my side with no resistance. He pulled the sleeping bag around us both as he settled into a comfortable position facing me.

We laid so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face and he watched me with grateful eyes. He moved carefully, as if afraid that he might startle me as he brushed a gentle line across my cheek to push my hair from my face. It seemed experimental, as if he were trying this for the first time and I noticed that he inspected me for any signs of discomfort.

I reflected on what I knew about John Murphy; the short version of his early life story that Pike had so callously shared in our classroom, the undiscussed time that he had spent with the grounders, the attentive way that he cared for people when the sickness tore through our camp, the sharp wit that kept people at a distance, despite the subtle attempts at approval that I'd noticed in him more than once. My heart ached at the thought that tenderness was foreign to him and although I acknowledged that this time together was healing the loneliness that I carried, I understood that it was vital for him.

Murphy removed his hand nervously and I witnessed a flitter of insecurity cross his face. I assumed he was worried that he wasn't doing this right. I took his face in my hands and stroked his jaw soothingly, causing his eyes to flutter closed. Carefully, I guided his head down so that I could place a butterfly kiss on his forehead and I felt him inhale sharply. Following his reaction, I traced a trail of lingering kisses across his face until I finally reached his lips. I could hardly think straight during the thrill of our connection and I felt a contentment that I didn't realise I craved.

The moment that we parted, Murphy shuffled into me and I wrapped my arms around him. His head came to rest in my chest and my arm threaded around his shoulders. Our legs slotted together as we fidgeted into a tangled mess where I could hardly tell which limb belonged to who and I rested my lips on his head. I could smell the cedar trees of the surrounding forest in his hair as I stroked his locks soothingly in slow, repetitive motions and I could feel his body releasing it's tension against me.

"Stay." He breathed against my chest, allowing himself to be vulnerable in a way that no one ever had around me before and I felt a smile spread across my lips.

"As long as you want me to." I answered with sincerity and I felt a tear slide from his cheek onto my collarbone as he took a deep, relieved breath.

"Thank you."