#jorgan x phila

[meanbihexual]

Unintended

Chapter 1/13

Read on AO3

Aric Jorgan was not a sentimental man. He didn’t dwell on his emotions—hell, half the time he didn’t even acknowledge them. He was also not indecisive; he believed in taking action, taking responsibility, and getting results. And so it was doubly incredulous, not to mention galling, that here he was, coming up on an hour of sitting on his bunk with his fists clenched, trying to decide what to do and feeling as anxious as he ever had in his entire life.

This had seemed like a good idea at first. It was entirely reasonable to want to congratulate the captain on her promotion, and a gift seemed like the sort of thing one ought to do for a friend. And they were friends, he had realized, after all the time they’d spent together, all the missions they’d completed. It was almost impossible to rely on someone as completely as they did in the field and not become something more than acquaintances, but it had surprised him nonetheless. The circumstances of their first meeting, his subsequent demotion while she was made his CO—all of that had stung, and at first he didn’t think he’d ever feel anything other than a seething dislike for her.

But Lieutenant—now Captain—Phila Evander was not the entitled, arrogant brat that he had thought she was, and she had proven it many times over in the hunt for Tavus and the other former members of Havoc Squad. Jorgan had come to admire and respect her over the months they’d been a team, and more than that, he even liked her.

Back to the problem at hand—a gift was a good idea, he was sure of that still, but why did he have to go and pick this particular gift? He hadn’t been able to think of anything that seemed right, until one day he was digging through his locker in search of something—he couldn’t remember what—when he found a box of assorted junk that he had accumulated over the years. Inside was a jewel he had bought from a trader on a whim years ago and had then thrown into the bottom of his pack, having no use for gems.

He wondered, now, if he’d had some sort of premonition, because it was the exact same blue as Phila’s eyes.

Before he could really think it through, he had found a Theelin jeweler on Nar Shaddaa and sent her the gem, commissioning a setting for it. It had arrived via courier while they were taking leave on Coruscant, and Jorgan had to admit that the jeweler had outdone herself.

The deep blue stone was now the centerpiece of a lovely bronzium pendant. It was shaped like an elongated diamond with thin strands of the metal woven in intricate designs that reached up to enfold the gem. It looked amazing, and in his mind he could clearly see it hung around Phila’s neck, even though he’d never seen her wear jewelry before.

The problem, though, the thing that kept him holding onto it even now, more than a month after receiving it, was that the more he looked at it, the more it felt like—well, like a lover’s token.

That was definitely not the message he wanted to send. Was it?

It was true that he was attracted to her, had been for quite some time, truth be told, but lately it had been getting worse. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and everything reminded him of her—the Balmorran sunsets were the same deep red as her hair, a smooth sip of Corellian whiskey was her voice. And the dreams—it was a miracle that he could meet her eyes after the dreams he’d had, and thank the stars Cathar didn’t blush noticeably or he would have been in real trouble. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but either way, Phila—he had to start thinking of her as Captain Evander again if he was going to get through this—could not find out. What would she think if he gave her jewelry?

Jorgan sighed and shifted his weight, pressing a hand to the sore spot on his lower back. That’s what he got for sitting in the same position for so long, along with a raging headache that he was pretty sure was going to require finding Elara to give him some painkillers.

Finally, with a disgusted snarl he pulled himself up and retrieved the pendant from its spot at the bottom of his locker. He had never been a coward and he wasn’t about to start now—if she got the wrong idea (or, more accurately, the right but absolutely not ever admitted idea), he would just make it perfectly clear that it was a congratulatory gift from a friend, nothing more.

 Phila was pretty sure military datawork was a clever ploy by the Sith to keep soldiers from having time to come after them. She ran a hand through her hair as she finished one report and flicked it off the screen before pulling up another, wishing that this was something she could delegate.

That wasn’t fair of her, not really—Elara already did all of the datawork she could; the crazy woman enjoyed it, which was something Phila was eternally grateful for. But there were some reports that only a CO could file, which was why Phila was wasting an evening onboard the Thunderclap instead of continuing the hunt for the elusive Tanno Vik.

Technically, she could have done the work at the base in Bugtown, but she hated that place. She always felt like colicoids were going to burst through the walls at any moment—even after she and Jorgan had helped to cull the population, they were still crawling all over the place. It wasn’t like it was a big deal for her to get to the ship anyway; the shuttle ran back and forth to the orbital station several times a day, so it was just a matter of catching a ride. Besides, it would be nice to sleep in her own bed again.

Taking a big gulp from the mug of caf beside her, she was mentally fortifying herself to dive into the next report when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning her head, she saw Jorgan enter the room, clutching something in his hand.

“Hey, Jorgan,” she greeted him, turning back to the work in front of her.

“Captain. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. Anything to get out of this datawork,” she answered with a small laugh, shoving the datapad out of the way as he pulled out the seat across from her.

The corners of his mouth twitched up, about as close as Jorgan ever got to a smile. She noticed that his hand was still curled tightly around something as he sat, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

“What’s up?”

Jorgan cleared his throat before he spoke.

“I never properly congratulated you on your promotion. You’ve come a long way since Ord Mantell.”

He paused, and she opened her mouth to say thank you, but he continued before she had the chance.

“We—we should celebrate.”

He looked vaguely sick as he said the last part, as if he had said it only because it was expected of him but actually found the prospect rather nauseating. It wouldn’t surprise her if that was the case—her XO wasn’t exactly a social flutterplume—but it meant a lot to her that he would make the effort.

Her response was designed to tease, to perhaps loosen him up a little. She couldn’t forget that day she’d come back to his inquiry about weapons malfunctions with a flirty little quip about going through her things—how his voice had dropped lower than usual when he asked if she had something to hide, the almost feral way his lips had curved in a rare smile.

It was impossible to deny she was hoping for a repeat performance when she said, “You could make me dinner.”

“You wouldn’t enjoy that. I’ve spent the last ten years living off field rations.”

His eyes danced, just a little, and told her that he was enjoying their exchange. Her smile widened—it was nice to see him joke for a change, even if it wasn’t that husky, mind-melting tone she’d been hoping for.

“Well, I guess it’s ration bars and caf again tonight,” she sighed in only half mock sorrow.

“Sorry, Captain,” he said. His voice turned serious. “But, uh, I got you a little something…”

She really had to stop smiling at him. He couldn’t think when she looked at him like that, all bright-eyed and positively glowing. It was hard enough to resist the pull of her lips normally, but when she smiled the battle tripled in intensity.

She was looking at him expectantly now, curiosity shining in her brilliant blue eyes, and since his brain was being decidedly unhelpful he simply held out the hand that clutched the necklace, waiting for Phila to mirror the gesture before he dropped the gift into her palm.

Phila gasped and immediately drew the piece closer to her face for inspection. The pendant was quite possibly the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen, and she’d seen a lot. Even though she didn’t own much of it, Phila had always admired the pretty pieces she saw other women wear. It was too bad it wasn’t really practical in her line of work.

And Jorgan was just full of surprises tonight—not only had he given her a gift, something she never would have believed if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, but he apparently had fantastic taste in jewelry as well.

She became vaguely aware of Jorgan talking in the background, and she forced her mind to focus on him.

“Bought the stone off a trader a few years back. Had a Theelin jeweler fit it for me. Thought it’d look nice on you.”

He sounded slightly awkward again. Phila didn’t know if he wasn’t sure if she liked it or was just uncomfortable giving gifts in general, but she hastened to reassure him.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, raising her eyes from the pendant to meet his. “I love it. Thank you.”

He held her gaze for a moment in silence, and Phila felt a shiver run up her spine at the intensity in his eyes. She found that she couldn’t look away, and the pendant felt warm in her hand.

Finally Jorgan broke the silence. “Anytime.”

The moment faded, and Phila found herself wrapping her fingers around her gift, trying to recapture the warmth.

She really shouldn’t say it, she thought, about two nanoseconds before she opened her mouth.

“Will you put it on for me?” He looked slightly startled, like he’d never considered that as a possible scenario, and she continued. “I’m hopeless at clasps.”

That wasn’t strictly true, but she would have to go cross-eyed to do it on her own without a mirror. Close enough, right?

It took him a moment, but Jorgan finally nodded and pushed up from the table, walking around to stand behind her. Phila swung her ponytail to the side so it didn’t get in his way and held up the chain over each shoulder so that he could take it.

When he had the ends of the chain in his hands she lowered her own, trying (and mostly succeeding) to suppress the shiver that ran through her at the soft brush of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her neck. It was probably her imagination, but it felt like his touch lingered there, just a second longer than necessary, before he released the necklace and stepped back. She missed him instantly.

Jorgan cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I should get back to my duties, and let you get your reports done. Congratulations again, sir.”

Phila shook her head and twisted in her seat to look at him. “You know you don’t have to call me sir when we’re off duty, Jorgan.”

He gave what passed as a smile and simply said, “I know, sir.”

Phila laughed softly as he walked out. “Stubborn man,” she said to herself as she pulled the datapad back in front of her. She glanced down at the necklace lying against the front of her t-shirt.

“Sweet man,” she whispered, and then got back to work.

[meanbihexual]

A couple of these have already given me some fun ideas...but feel free to send me more!

Prompt List #2

“I just thought you liked love songs!”

“You have a nice voice”

“Y’know I never imagined you as a fan of closets and yet here we are…”

“You’re absolutely dreadful!”

 “Oh…shit.”

 “I know you’re angry…but it wasn’t me!”

 “Do you want some soup?”

 “[David Attenborough voice] And here were see the lesser spotted ____ in their natural habitat” 

“I don’t think you realise just how many people want to date you…I mean you’ve got a queue longer than the one to get into Glastonbury” 

“I know you’re not a fan of Valentine’s day…I just thought that maybe I could change your mind…”

“I never thought I’d fancy you…and yet here we are.”

“You’re my favourite know-it-all” 

“What’re you going to name it?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Please tell me that we’re not stuck out here in your piece of shit car.” 

“Do you think its possible to die from boredom?” 

“God, I hate you.”

“Do you own anything that isn’t a woollen jumper?”

“This is the best jam I have ever tasted!” 

“I have long since become desensitised to you walking around in just your underwear.”

“You wish you could have a piece of this” 

“You can’t just steal the neighbour’s cheesecake!” 

“Just because you have magic doesn’t mean you have to do everything with it. You can still peel carrots like a normal person.”

“What’s wrong with second hand?” 

“I can’t believe you cleaned my room!”

“Are you angry…?” 

“I wish I could be angry at you.”

“Would you go to the dance with me?”

“That was the least romantic proposal in the entire history of proposals.”

“I never knew you were a romantic at heart”

“I made it. For you. I know it’s not the best, but…”

“I figured roses were cliche and I know you like ___ so…”

“Why did I think that was a good idea?”

“You will never do something more embarrassing than that love poem you wrote when we were 13 and read out in front of the whole school.” 

“Your mum hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you…she just doesn’t like you.” 

“How do you even know that this is here?”

“Secret passage ways? Really? Are we in a gothic novel?” 

“Let me carry that.”

“The older I get the more conflicted I feel about snow. On one hand its snow on the other hand it’s really inconvenient when you have adult things to do.”

“You can build a fire? When did you ever learn that?”

“I don’t understand why people think fishing is relaxing. It’s all tense silence and boredom.” 

“You wanna play ‘would you rather’ to pass the time?”

“So…ghosts, huh?”

“You want to tell scary stories?”

“It’s forbidden for a reason, idiot.” 

“How do you know my favourite drink?” 

“I’m observant.”

“We’ve known each other for years and I don’t think we’ve ever had a proper conversation.”

“Why are you bleeding?!”

“You’re the clumsiest person I know…how did you survive past childhood?”

“What is that?”

“I make the best sundaes, you haven’t lived until you’ve had one of my sundaes”

“It’s always time for a milkshake.”

“You know humming the James Bond theme tune defeats the point of sneaking.”

“You beat my high score? You…beat my high score?!” 

“I don’t think i’ve ever see you without a book in your hand…”

“I come here whenever I need a quiet place to think…to sort my head out.” 

“Where have you been?!” 

“You could have at least left a note. We were worried about you.”

“The real question is how do you eat your Jaffa Cakes?” 

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have done that, you can look after yourself…I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.” 

“How come every idea I suggest is never good enough?”

“It’s your turn to pick the movie.”

“I think your cat wants to kill me.”

“It’s beautiful!”

“When I say I want to be alone…I usually don’t want to be alone.”

“How do you smell so good?”

“Where have all my jumpers gone?”

“I think these belong to you…”

“You should break up with him/her/them” 

“You asked for my advice, don’t get pissy just because you don’t like it.” 

“You know you can a right prat you know that?” 

“You’re not the only person who’s hurting.”

“You’re so cute.”

“Sometimes I think about toning it down and then I remember who I am.”

“Stop being over dramatic!”

“I bruise really easily!” 

“How come when I try to do something nice it always goes wrong!” 

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” 

“Pot calling the Kettle black.”

“People just don’t like me.”

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

“You’re not even paying me!”

“I can’t date him! He hates sarcasm! That’s like my second language!” 

“You wanna go to the pub? It’s been a rough day.”

“I should stop making choices for myself I always make bad ones.”

“Oh my god, I love you.” 

“You’re going to smother me in my sleep aren’t you?”

“This is a bad idea.”

“This is the best idea I’ve ever had!” 

“I told you to bring a jacket” 

“I can’t believe that I’m snowed in. With you”

“How can you possibly eat at a time like this?” 

“I think you’re amazing…even if I don’t say it much, I really do. The things you do…”

“I feel like i’ve stepped back in time.” 

“I haven’t seen these photos in years” 

“Stop being so stubborn!” 

“Do you think we’re cursed?”

“So let me get this straight. You went into the woods to find a witch to help you pass your exams? And that was somehow a good idea?”

“I’ve been dead for 200 years and nothing has really changed. People are still idiots.” 

Once again feel free to use on your blogs/for your own writing or to use these as inspiration for requests.

[meanbihexual]

May I Have This Dance?

Art by the amazing @birdy-the-artist

Valorum Ballroom, Senate Tower, Coruscant, 3637 BBY, one month after the defeat of the Revanites on Yavin IV

Theron slid two fingers under his collar and tugged on the starched fabric, hoping that this time—unlike his previous attempts over the past half hour—the gesture would actually loosen the garment’s grip on his throat.

“It doesn’t work,” came a gruff voice from beside him, and Theron turned to see Aric Jorgan approaching, clad in his dark blue dress uniform, an impressive array of medals glinting across the left side of jacket. “I’ve tried every time I’m forced into one of these events, and I always leave feeling like I’ve been strangled by a vine snake.”

Theron sighed and dropped his hand.

“The Director owes me one for not faking my death to get out of this,” he muttered, and Jorgan chuckled.

“At least you didn’t get carted off at the crack of dawn by Saresh’s team of ‘Couturier Impresarios.’”

“Her what?” Theron didn’t often consider himself clueless, but he had to admit that he hadn’t even the slightest idea what that jumble of syllables meant.

“Stylists, apparently, though they were offended when I called them that. Showed up at 0600 hours this morning, almost fainted when Phila, Dorne, and Qiy said they were planning on wearing their dress uniforms, and then practically carried them off the ship to get them ready for tonight,” Jorgan answered, and Theron couldn’t help but notice the flash of terror in the man’s eyes as he spoke.

He didn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Phila commed me around lunch,” Jorgan continued, “said all the women from Yavin were there getting glammed up, willing or not. Except Grandmaster Shan—I guess she got out of it somehow.”

“I guess there are some perks to being the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order,” Theron said. Then, after a brief pause: “I bet Safi hated that.”

“I’ll be hearing about the indignities for weeks, if it makes you feel any better,” Jorgan commiserated.

Theron nodded absently, craning his neck for a better view of the entrance to the ballroom. At the top of a small flight of stairs the double doors were thrown open, having already admitted the substantial crowd that now milled around the floor, waiting for the official start of the ball, but the hallway that stretched beyond them stood vacant.

“You’d think they’d be here already, if they’ve been getting ready for 12 hours,” he said, his hand rising to fidget with his collar once more.

Jorgan raised an eyebrow in a strange expression Theron wasn’t able to interpret before it dissolved with a shrug.

“Saresh probably wants them to make a grand entrance, after all the work she had her people do.”

An agreement was on Theron’s lips when a flurry of movement near the entrance caught his attention. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, vaguely aware that Jorgan was following him, as the voice of the Senate Herald rang across the room.

“Jedi Master Safiya Adraiel, Hero of Tython, Battlemaster of the Jedi Order,” he announced in his smooth, cultured tones, pitched to perfectly cut through the ambient sounds of the people below.

Theron looked up and forgot how to breathe.

Safi stood at the top of the staircase, perched on her toes like she wasn’t sure if she was going to descend or turn and run. Midnight blue silk fell to her feet in soft folds, topped by an intricately beaded bodice that shimmered in the light of the chandeliers. Her arms were encased in sheer fabric of the same shade as the rest of the dress, with her shoulders and the skin above her decolletage left bare. She wore her usual mask, but her hair was pinned in an elaborate coiffure with just a few curls left down to frame her face.

Theron knew he was staring but was powerless to do anything else; in all honesty, he was surprised that his mouth wasn’t hanging open. He’d known she was beautiful, of course, had known it since the moment he first laid eyes on her, but tonight…tonight, she was magical.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” he heard Jorgan mutter, but he couldn’t spare any attention for the comment or what it might have meant.

He might never have managed another coherent thought if Safi hadn’t moved then, wrapping one arm across her middle in a gesture that he recognized from sleepless nights spent sharing secrets and confessing insecurities. In an instant Theron was in motion, striding forward and breaking through the front line of the staring crowd, eyes never leaving her face, hand outstretched toward her.

Safi smiled, the small, shy gesture lighting up her face in a way that made Theron’s heart race, and lifted her skirts daintily with one hand before starting down the stairway. When she reached the bottom, she laid her hand in Theron’s, her lips parting in delighted surprise when he brought her hand to his lips and ghosted a soft kiss across the back of her knuckles. Before she had time to respond, he had tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and begun to escort her back to his previous position next to Jorgan as the herald began announcing the next arrival.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Safi murmured in a low voice as they made their way across the floor. “Jedi aren’t normally announced like it. It caught me off guard.”

“Anytime,” Theron choked out, his voice hoarse, as if he had forgotten how to use the muscles that made speech possible. Then, because he couldn’t say nothing, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said again, ducking her head slightly as a blush slowly rose to color her cheeks. “I feel a little out of place. I’m sure I’m nothing special compared to the people who attend these balls regularly.”

Theron stopped walking for a moment and used his free hand to tilt her chin up until he could see her face.

“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” he whispered, his voice fierce and passionate despite its low volume.

Safi’s blush deepened, but her smile returned.

“I’ll let you have that one, but only because my wife isn’t here yet.” Jorgan’s voice made them both turn, and he inclined his head to Safi. “Master Safiya, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Captain Jorgan,” she responded warmly. “Phila should be announced soon, she was only a few places behind me.”

“That’s my cue, then,” he said, and with a brief nod of his head he started off in the direction of the entrance.

“You look very nice tonight, too,” Safi said, turning her attention back to Theron. She trailed her hand along the sleeve of his jacket, a formal affair in deep blue and gold that was remarkably similar in cut to his favorite red one. “I like the blue. We match.”

Theron was sure that this had not been left to chance—the jacket, along with the other pieces of his ensemble, had been delivered by courier that morning—but he only nodded in agreement. “Everyone will be jealous of our coordination when we dance.”

One eyebrow arched delicately above her mask.

“That’s quite a presumption you’re making, Agent Shan.” Her words rang with laughter, and Theron couldn’t suppress a grin when he answered.

“I could convince you, if you see any dark corners we can sneak away to…” He made a show of craning his neck to look around the ballroom as Safi giggled.

“Or you could just ask,” she remarked dryly, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the laughs that wound themselves around her words.

“There’s an idea,” Theron replied consideringly, as though Safi had said something brilliant rather than simply pointing out the obvious.

She shook her head, and Theron had the distinct suspicion that she was rolling her eyes behind her mask.

While they’d been speaking, the herald had announced the last of the guests, and now the opening strains of a Corellian Waltz floated from the orchestra at the far end of the room.

“Perfect timing.” Theron grinned and took Safi’s hand, executing a rather good imitation of one of the extravagant court bows used by Alderaanian nobility.

“May I have this dance?”

Safi’s smile shone like the stars when she answered.

“You may.”

[meanbihexual]

Phila and Jorgan are controlling approximately 3/4 of my brain right now, but instead of giving me anything useful plot-wise they're just cuddling and saying how much they love each other 🙄

[meanbihexual]

Tagged by @starknstarwars (thank you!)

No pressure tags for @firecatwashere, @starwers, @magicallulu7, @sullustangin, and anyone else who wants to share

From an upcoming (and so far unedited) chapter of Unintended:

"My brother takes his black," Asti announced haughtily as they approached the caf station at the back of the waiting room.

"I know," Phila answered, giving her a patient smile and ignoring her tone. She was a teenager, a worried and exhausted one at that, and Phila thought back to her 16 year old self and thought she probably would have had an attitude right now, too.

She reached for the pot of caf, pouring one for herself and one for Jorgan, as Asti did the same for her and her mother. Phila wasn't watching her, but she could practically feel the eyeroll coming from the girl. It was quiet for a moment, before Asti went on the offensive again.

"Why are you here?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Phila could see that Asti had turned toward her, hands planted on her hips and her mouth heavy with a scowl.

Phila continued doctoring her caf as she replied, "At the caf bar or--"

Asti cut her off, her voice irritated, impatient. "At the medcenter."

Finished making her drink, she turned and met Asti's gaze. "Because Aric is my friend," she answered simply. It was the truth, even if wasn't the whole truth, but it was as much as Asti would be getting. Phila wasn't about to spill her guts about her love life to Jorgan's kid sister when even they weren't sure what was between them yet.

"A close enough friend that you spent the night?" The question, pointed and accusing, snapped out as Asti made a show of inspecting Phila's rumpled appearance, that high, sleek tail of hair lashing behind her like a whip.

"Not that it's any of your business," Phila said calmly, not reacting to the younger girl's theatrics, "but I was asked to stay. I wouldn't be here if your brother wasn't okay with it." Her voice softened a touch as she picked up the caf cups and made to start back down the hall. "I know you're worried about him, but we're on the same side."

Phila walked a few steps on her own before she heard Asti grab her set of cups and follow her. They made it down two hallways before Asti caught up and cleared her throat.

"I just...get protective of him, is all," she said in a small voice, one that hardly sounded like her earlier self at all.

"I understand," Phila replied, shooting her an easy smile. "I feel the same way about my brother."

"Is he a soldier, too? Has he ever been in danger?"

"He's not a soldier, no. He's a psychologist. When he was a teenager he..." Phila trailed off, sighed, started again. "Let's just say he made some bad choices, and for a while he was in a really scary situation. He's okay now, but I still remember how it felt when I wasn't sure that's how it would turn out."

Beside her, Asti nodded. "Yeah. I get that." Whatever her issue with Phila, she seemed to have gotten over it. "I'm proud of Aric for what he does, but--but I dont want him to end up like Dad." The last words came out in a rush, as if she were afraid that giving voice to them would make them come true.

"I can't promise you that won't happen," Phila said seriously, coming to a stop outside Jorgan's room and turning to look at her companion. Aric had never given her details, but she remembered he had once said that his father was killed in action. "But I can tell you that every time we're in the field, I and everyone else on my squad do our best to make sure we all make it home safe."

Asti sighed. "I just want him to come home, to do something that isn't so dangerous all the time. I know I can't make him, but..." She trailed off, blinking back a sudden flood of tears.

Phila wanted to hug her, but thought that would be a bad idea with each of their hands full of caf.

"Come on," she said gently, hitting the panel to open the door with her elbow. "Let's get in here and you can talk to him, see for yourself that he's going to be alright. We can talk about this more later if you want to."

[meanbihexual]

Phila pieces for the WIP ask game?

This is made up of small paragraph or 1-2 sentence snippets that I plan to put into a Phila fic (probably Unintended, which can be found here) at some point, but I'm either not at that point in the story or I haven't fully fleshed out the idea or something else is going on that I'm not ready to add it into a draft.

Here's an excerpt, from Jorgan's point of view:

For months he had literally ached for her, always wanting more of whatever she would give him: smiles, laughs, the absolute trust in her eyes as they fought side by side. It made him feel sort of pathetic at times, but there was no way to get around it—she was like a guiding star that pulled him to her again and again.

And stars, this was ridiculous. When had he gotten so…the word occurred to him, and he thought it grudgingly, disgustedly—poetic? Guiding star his ass, he just liked her and it had been too long since he’d been with a woman.

[meanbihexual]

Important OTP Questions, #6, 8, & 14, for both of your OTPs

6) Who takesphotos of the other while they sleep?

Safi/Theron: Inever really pictured either of them as doing this, but then I started thinkingabout it, and I think they both do, but with different intents. Safi does it soshe can hold it up later and say, “Look, Theron, you really can go five minuteswithout getting into trouble!” Theron took one or two to put on his datapad sohe can look at them when he has to be away from her for a long time, but they’reencrypted and hidden and encrypted again because he will never admit to it.

Phila/Jorgan: Phila. She’s the picture type, alwaystrying to get Jorgan to smile so she can grab one of the two of them together,and of course he always gives in, but he has to grump a little first. And shedoesn’t really mind that, but when he’s sleeping he looks so peaceful andcontent and she can capture that moment without him trying to hide it, and whatAric doesn’t know about her picture collection won’t embarrass him.

8) Who likesto wear the other’s sweatshirts?

Both my girlsfor this one. Safi is always stealing The Jacket, and Jorgan wouldn’t fit intoone of Phila’s shirts if he tried, so she gets to be all cute in his way toobig clothes and he’s just out of luck.

14) Whostarts the hand holding? Who grabs the others butt? Who slides their arm aroundtheir waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

Hand holding:

Honestly, I think it’s about equal forboth couples.

Butt grabbing:

Safi for sure. She never would havedone so to anyone before Theron, but, I mean, have you seen his ass? Girl neverstood a chance.

Aric“I’m watching your back and everything else” Jorgan

Arm around the waist:

Theron, and it’s definitely notbecause that makes it easy to slide his fingers under her shirt and distracther without being ridiculously obvious.

Phila. Jorgan’s quite a bit tallerthan she is, so it’s usually the easiest place.

Fingers in the belt loops:

Pretty much whoever is sitting whilethe other is standing. (Seriously, I think I’ve written something where everysingle person in this ask has done this.)