HEADCANONS;;

      I.     From the moment she landed on Earth, hands shaking and lungs full of fresh air, Harper had instantly gravitated to Miller’s side, meeting Monroe along the way. It was every bad cliché of every bad teenage romance movie all squished into one; girl is probably really straight, girl is also really cute beautiful, girl will never like the other back. Still, it didn’t stop the day they had watch together, also known as when they officially first met (or when Harper stop staring and actually spoke to her),  and finally learnt each other’s names. God, hearing the two syllables of her name on Monroe’s lips was like falling in love– and god, it could have been love.

      II.     A few days after their watch, huddled around the campfire, the girl’s eyes full of the stars above– the ones they had once lived among– Harper leant forward, draping her arm around Monroe’s shoulders, muttering an excuse about how ‘it’s really cold’ and she was ‘really warm’. Just as she was feeling asleep, eyes squeezed shut against the heat radiating from the flames, she felt fingers running through her hair, leaving delicate braids throughout her hair. Each morning, at the crack of dawn, Harper sat down at Monroe’s side, let her plait her hair, and though no one asked about it, she felt herself falling even more. It might have been love.

      III.     Eventually, she gave up on her. They could still be friends but she couldn’t fall in love, not with her, and instead starting falling for Jasper but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t want her either and she knew they were better friends, she had always known that, but it didn’t stop her from searching endlessly for Monroe when the storm hit; Monty was gone, Miller was gone, and her crush was glued by Clarke, arguing over something with her voice strong and unwavering. Relief had come off her in waves, just about, before she had reached for her hand amongst the crowd, lips mouthing the subtle words that told Monroe that ‘it’s really cold’ and she was ‘really warm’, so they smiled and stuck by each other. It was almost love.

      IV.     The war against the Grounders was something– she was with Jasper, braids messy and coming undone, her gun, however, was steady. Harper was scared, maybe even more than when she was locked in the skybox, because her friends, the people she loved, were no where to be seen. Monty’s best friend told her they’d be okay but his words seemed hollow, and only once they had made it back to the dropship to safety did she feel relieved, sitting on the cold ground with her heart choked in her throat, too occupied with helping Jasper to search for the woman she loved. It was love.

      V.     She woke the next morning in a bed that wasn’t her own, surrounded by white and cleanliness. Monroe wasn’t with her; neither were Miller and Monty. Their reunion was short-lived when she had found them, hair straight (even though Fox offered to try and braid it it wasn’t the same) and no traces of Monroe left. Her skin was probably too clean; too washed off for any hints of her to remain. Harper had asked, had searched amongst the crowd (‘Monroe?’, ‘is she here?’, ‘where is she?’) and still nothing. It was painful to be in love.

     VI.     They drilled her and every time, she heard Monty’s begging, his insistence, but all she pleaded for was Monroe’s hand in hers in her last moments. But she didn’t die– she held Monty to her own body and thanked god that he was safe, and then Monroe, practically scooping her into her arms, hot breath against her neck, trying to fight off every desire that screamed to tell her that she loved her, that those few days weeks without her were far too much.

    VII.      The teenager spent eight days in bed at Camp afterwards with Miller and Monty by her side, holding a hand against her damaged hip with teeth gritted in pain, trying to tell them that she didn’t want their help; she would get better on her own. It took nine days after their hug to see Monroe again, to stare at her thigh and ask if being shot hurt, fingers digging into the bone of her waist, fighting back tears. It was rushing pain, other hand reaching out to grasp at her friend to steady herself. Was it still considered love if Monroe didn’t love her back?

    VIII.     Night came quick on the ninth day after Mount Weather, dragging her crush to her tent and asking her to stay once she had braided Harper’s hair, hand grasping her. Words were lost that night into the silence, hands wrapped around her friend, searching for warmth she couldn’t find in herself. ‘I love you’ seemed so simple when no one but her could hear it, when she knew that Monroe would never know she had said it.

             “I love you” seemed like a silent prayer when she was with the
               girl she loved. It sounded like three simple words in her head but
               when whispered in their (?) bed, it carried more depth, more feel-
               ing. Maybe because all those years on the Ark spent caring for a
               father that never truly loved her had gotten into her head, almost
               made her feel unworthy of being with someone. But Monroe was
               different; she didn’t love her back but god, she could’ve.

                       Harper didn’t care that it was probably unrequited; she just wanted to
                       have something to love– like her parents had never loved her. In the
                       dead of night, chest against Monroe’s back, face pressed inside of
                       the crook of her neck, she said it again, wondered it maybe the other
                       girl knew but didn’t say anything. “I love you even though you don’t
                       love me, you know. I’ve always loved you. I always will.

               Her hips never got better, though she had since lost the lights in
               her eyes, and whenever it got dark, all she had to guide herself
               was Monroe– like a constant beacon when things got bad or the
               pain worse, but she still loved. Miller pointed it out sometimes,
               and Monty nudged her when she stared for too long. God, it had
               almost been love and it was; it was more somehow. Like smoke
               suffocating her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 
                  They were friends for the longest time and maybe never more,
               but that was okay. She loved her so she let it slide. And even if
               her heart ached sometimes or she crazed the simplest thing like
               human touch, love was enough.

neiith:

                    HEADCANON MEME

          Monroe didn’t know Harper until they were on the Ground.
They were from different stations so they wouldn’t have seen each
other around very often, not did they have mutual friends on the
Ark, at least none that they knew of. But the girls clicked.

         They were introduced to each other through Miller, who hung
out with Harper and Monty a lot and met Monroe when they were
assigned to be on watch together. They proved to be the angry,
sour ones while Harper and Monty tended to be the ones to drag
the two around to look at the different plants they found, eyes wide
and gleaming. The four got along fairly well, and the girls were quick
to pick up on the spark between the two others and refused to let it
go. Though that quickly got turned back on them when the boys
denied it as best they can and then in panic mentioned the looks the
girls gave towards each other when the other wasn’t looking. They
denied it, however, both of them, and whether Harper really did like
the other, Monroe never knew. Either too scared to ask or too afraid
the answer would be a no, especially since Monroe didn’t fall in love
easily. And she’d never admit to it if she ever did.

          When the war between the Grounders and the hundred of
them broke out, Monroe was just as panicked as the rest of them. She
didn’t know how this had happened; just a week before hand she had
actually been enjoying herself in the safety of the Sky Box, having high
hopes that between her age and naivety, and the worry she had over
her mother, they’d release her when she turned eight-teen. She didn’t
have much else to do besides worry about getting floated but she did
as much as she could to ignore it, and hope that didn’t happen.

          But she constantly found herself worry about Harper, having
that gnawing feeling that if it wasn’t Monroe who died during this war
it’d be her. One of them would be gone and Monroe didn’t like either
choice. She didn’t know what happened but the next few minutes she
couldn’t tell where she was until it came to her, that she was in the
middle of the forest, the sun barely rising with Sterling beside her. Like
he always was. And after a few minutes of arguing with him to go back
he gave in, the two making their way back to what they called home
to find the ground seared and the Dropship empty.

          Neither had much hope left about the others, until they found
Bellamy and Finn in the woods but their hope in Finn quickly left as
they realized how messed up he was about losing Clarke.

          But when they showed back up at camp after heading out to
look for Clarke, only to find her already there, Monroe was definitely
feeling the pain in both her leg and the loss of Sterling en route. Clarke
came to help her mom with the arrow head still lodge in her thigh, and
even as relieved as she was to see Clarke, and she meant to ask
anything along the lines of ‘ are you okay? ‘ or ‘ how are you? ‘ she
only managed to get out a breathy and weak; “ Harper? “

          The last thing she needed was to hear she was dead too, but
Clarke nodded, a small smile teasing her cut lips. “ Her, Miller, Monty –
they’re all okay. “ And though that was only half true, they’d be okay
for a little while, telling Monroe they were in trouble wouldn’t help her
relax enough to get the arrow out, or help her refocus on getting the
others out.

          It worked — eventually. They did manage to get the others out
a great costs. They lost Fox and a few others, and Monroe, Miller’s dad
and a few others managed to get themselves caught and chained to the
wall among the other kids. But Monroe’s eyes stayed glued to either
Cage when he was there, or Harper when he wasn’t. She’d heard they’d
already gotten to her and she was only half surprised Harper was still
alive. She knew the girl was stubborn and tough when she needed to
be, and was only gentle and light when she didn’t.

          Once the handcuffs were off her wrists, and she saw Harper and
Monty pull apart from their hug she practically flung herself at Harper,
barely caring if she hurt her wounds in the process, though she would
still feel bad if she did. But her arms only tightened around the other
girl’s neck, feet strained as she stood on her tiptoes, and her face
pressed between her arms and Harper’s neck. She murmured a couple
small ‘ I’m glad you’re okay ‘ s to her, one hand brushing along her hair.

          She knew it now. She probably still wouldn’t verbally admit it to
many people, and if she did she’d be picky about who, but she knew
now she did love her. She did. She also loved Monty, Miller, Octavia,
all of them; but she loved Harper in a different way. In a deeper way.
She was reluctant to let her arms fall away from Harper but when she
did all she could do was look at her. She couldn’t find any words to
express everything she did want to say with the scare of almost losing
her.

          But she loved her, and she’d be damned if she let anyone else
touch her.