Does Alfea have a ballroom? I’m going to assume it does.
This idea for this fic came to me in the middle of the night and I just had to write it. And by that, I mean that I knew I wanted Riven to simp over Musa in a bunch of different outfits and colors and had absolutely no plot for it. Can’t say it’s my best work, but I enjoyed writing the banter. And thus, I present you Simp!Riven and Flirty!Musa.
And just for research purposes, what colors do you guys classify as “sexy”? My friend and I have had this conversation multiple times and it always gets more and more interesting.
Bright. Brighter. Brightest.
That's what Riven thinks of Musa's smile. He thinks this same thought each and every time he sees her smile.
He likes her shy smiles, the ones where she bends her head downward and plays with the straps of her backpack, the ones where her lips pull up and she tries desperately to hide the blush that frames her cheeks right after he's told her he's particularly fond of her current swim attire.
And he likes her mischievous smiles, the ones that spark to life as her eyes sparkle with understanding and hidden messages. Those ones he has the privilege of admiring right after she's made a joke that isn't quite as innocent as it seems, or when her and the girls are planning something he can only assume will land them all in some sort of trouble, or (and this is his personal favorite instance) when she makes a not so sly pass at him from across a room with just her eyes in a way that he knows will land him in a load of trouble.
And don't even get him started on Musa's wide smile, the one that she currently sports as she throws her head back laughing at Bloom's lame attempt to stay afloat after her not so coordinated cannonball into the lake.
Her hair is loose, a rare occurrence at any time, and he watches as she swims to the shore and walks to where he is sitting pretending to admire the sunset and fooling no one in the fact that he's just staring at her. She's all curves and bare skin as she steps out of the water, droplets grazing her body. His eyes follow their way downward with each new strip of skin that is revealed as she makes her way out of the lake, fully aware of the fact that she knows he's watching.
"My eyes are up here," she jokes half-heartedly as she plops herself down next to him in a very unladylike manner. Stella would be horrified.
His lips twitch up at her words, but he makes on effort to look up, focusing instead on the way that yellow bikini top lifts and falls as she breathes in and out. Breathing was never something he'd thought of often before her. Sure, a living, breathing human being was a must in any partner. But before her, there had been no long drawn out thoughts about how deep breaths and hitches in a someone's breathing pattern made him want to just… snap. But, now, as he looped his arm around Musa's waist and brought her onto his lap, hearing her breath catch somewhere at the back of her throat, he wondered if breathing could be a kink.
"You going to speak? Or do you just plan on staring at me for the rest of the time I'm in this swimsuit?" She shifts herself on his lap so that they're face to face, and pokes his cheek with her index finger. "Come now, you can do it. You can form a coherent sentence and speak it for me. You're a big boy."
And at that line, how could he not give her what she was asking for?
"You would know." He all but growls in her ear and she throws her head back, flashes the sky one of her wide smiles, bares her throat to him. He leans his head down, presses his lips to her neck, feels her vocal chords vibrate through him as she laughs.
"You're a child. You know that?"
"Not my fault my mind can't control itself."
"Actually, I think that is your fault?" She cocks an eyebrow at him, gives him her mischievous smile.
"Let me correct myself then, love." He makes a show of leaning in as close to her as he can get without actually touching her and says, "Not my fault you're unavoidable in that bikini."
Her eyes darken as she wraps her arms around his neck, "Hmm. What about this bikini is so appealing to you?"
"Would you," she taps a finger to her chin. "I don't know. Would you say the color is particularly attractive?"
That's an interesting question. "Huh?"
"You heard me. This color. The yellow. Do you like it?"
"What?" He tries again, looking at her all perplexed because really, where is this going?
"Riven, I know you're struggling with words at the current moment. But really, this isn't that hard a question. Yes or no. Do you like the yellow?" She huffs lightly and he has to remember to take in air and let it out as he feels her hot breath against his bare chest.
"I can manage words just fine. I just don't know what exactly that question entails?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Do you think this color is attractive? Does it make you want to strip me naked right here, right now, and fuck me senseless?"
He chokes on his own spit at that response. "Okay, first of all, there is never a time when I don’t want to strip you naked. Second, I am not answering that question because I know there's no way this conversation isn't somehow related to the rest of your little pixie friends and I… I don't even wanna know."
"Oh, come on," she whines. She leans down then and kisses his jaw. "Humor me," she whispers to him.
Her breath tickles his skin, carving a path of wanting as it travels through him. And fuck, , is it really possible to be turned on by someone's breathing?
She's trailing her lips over the parts of his skin that are available to her, not quite kissing any part of him but present enough that he's about to lose his goddamn mind.
"Hmm?" she murmurs in question, pushing him to answer her ridiculous question.
And though he's sure that his answer is about to make him the popular talk of the Winx suite, he answers her anyways, "Yeah. Yeah. Fine."
"Fine, what?" Lips brushing past his cheeks, past him jaw, against his mouth.
Fine, dig my grave right now, why don't you? he thinks. Instead he answers with a grumbled "Fine, that's a very attractive color."
Quick as his words come out of his mouth, Musa's lips are off of him and pulled back into her wide smile as she shifts herself around and hollers over her shoulder, "HA! Stella, you owe Bloom money! He's totally into it!"
Good gracious fucking God. What in the devil's name did he just get himself into?
Turns out, what he got himself into was a game of circling rounds. Riven's not sure of the details, not sure he wants to be sure of the details quite frankly. But, the main idea is this: there came a night when Bloom decided the girls needed a good old-fashioned "slumber party" and in between the late night snacks and movies, the girls had found themselves in a heated game of truth or dare. Aisha had dared Terra to start leaving a plant in Dowling's office every day until she noticed, Terra asked Stella for some very juicy information about what was going on between her and that newly-appointed bodyguard of hers, Stella paid forward the embarrassment by asking some very detailed information of Bloom concerning the girl's current relationship and that had led to the conversation of… lingerie? This is where stuff gets a bit fuzzy for Riven. Really, Musa's explanation had all but gone down the drain once he's heard that word. He truly wishes the story had ended there. He would have been fine with that. But no, the pixies had somehow managed to stir the conversation to the topic of… colors? Sexy colors? Again he's not too sure of the details here.
What he is sure of, however, is that Musa now wears a different color every day just for the sake of testing his reactions. And yeah, he's got plenty of reactions.
Take now for example. All of Alfea is crowded into the greeting hall, a raging party is in full swing, and the only lights that can be seen are that of the moon through the large French doors that surround the school and the occasional lighter from a student who doesn't care all that much about getting caught. The whole Winx suite is crowded by one of the round tables situated in the middle of the room, no doubt Stella's choice of seating. Let it never be said that Stella of Solaria was anything but the center of attention even on her worst days. And attention is what she is getting, as she sits ever so daintily on the edge of her seat, leaning forward so that she can graze those perfectly manicured nails of hers across the biceps of who Riven assumes is the bodyguard Sky (and everyone else in their little group, for that matter) won't stop talking about. She's fluttering her lashes at him, whispering something Riven knows for a fact is not very ladylike of her, because the more she speaks, the farther forward the poor sap leans and the deeper his blush grows.
Whipped, Riven thinks to himself. Someone should warn the clueless sap he's in for a hell lot more than what he thinks he's signing up for.
And someone should tell Sky to stop with the heart eyes before they become a permanent fixture on that pretty face of his. Bloom has somehow managed to get him on the dance floor, but from the looks of it, there is very little dancing being done. More stumbling and tumbling across the floor and toward a corner of the room. Riven has to stop himself from laughing out loud as Sky almost tramples over a poor freshman girl in his rush the follow Bloom.
You're not as smooth as you think you are, Sky.
He's not really sure where the rest of their gang is, but he can't really bring himself to care either. The only person he really cares to track down is sitting cross-legged on top of the table that Stella and bodyguard guy are feeling each other up under, and he spotted her the second he walked into this lame party. She's draped in lavender silk, or something akin to it. He's not sure, but he (again) couldn't care less what the material is. The color though, that he is wildly interested in. He knows it's a game. He knows she's looking for a reaction. And he told himself he wouldn't give her one, but far be it for him to deny her anything when she's all long legs and tan skin in just a tiny lavender dress that he swears makes her look like a goddess from the heavens.
And then she curls her lips his way, and he stands corrected. Not from heaven, but hell. Because the pure lavender of her dress cannot possibly match all the thoughts that must be running her mind, all the thoughts running his mind.
She's worn that color before, and his brain has memorized the exact shade of it without him knowing. It's the color of the sweater she wore when he first spoke to her. For days after, Riven hadn't been able to get that exact hue out of his mind. He would see flashes of it in the sky as the sun set, would notice flowers of that color around campus (had they always been there?). He would even see it when he closed his eyes at night.
Still smirking at him, she makes her way over and reaches to clasp her hands at his shoulders when she finally stands before him.
"Thought you might be into this one," she whispers in his ear. They both know she means the color.
"Can't say I don't appreciate it," he chuckles into her ear, the diamond-dipped earrings she wears tickling his lips as they sway.
And then she's tugging him to the middle of the dancefloor.
"You don't dance. I know," she smiles up at him. Her wide smile, the dazzling one that makes him forget to breathe. "But… come on, just one song? For me?"
The way she pushes the strap of lavender off her shoulder in a very intentional manner does not bypass him.
In the end, he lets her have as many songs as she wants.
Musa wears the color lavender a lot more often for the next few days after that party. Riven knows she likes that it riles him up, likes that she can do that to him, but it's getting to the point where he can't think straight whenever she's around him. And the teachers are noticing his lack of attention during classes, mainly swords training, which Musa has decided to add to her daily activities. Meaning, of course, that she has decided to make an appearance to each of his training sessions, sit on the grass just beyond the training grounds with all her friends, and bat her eyelashes his way as she shows off all the lilac and lavender her closet possesses.
"You need to stop that," he mumbles to her as she comes to meet him at the boy's lockers after one of those training lessons.
"Stop what?" Her voice drips in innocence, sweet as honey. If he were facing her instead of stuffing gear into a bag, he knows she would be giving her best angel eyes and he would likely let her seduce him into a corner somewhere (or maybe let her strip him right here in the middle of the locker room… he's a man of few requests) and drop the subject altogether.
"I just let Boris have a win because of you. Fucking Boris. The guy can't even walk a straight line without tripping himself."
"Not my fault you can't stop looking my way."
"That's a lie and you know it."
"No. No, I think it's the truth."
He huffs in mild annoyance. "Seriously, as much as I want you to seduce me into every corner of this stupid school, I can't be letting Boris and all the other wimps of this school keep winning. The other day, Silva asked me if I needed medical attention. Medical attention, Musa! He thought I had hit my head or some shit because I kept tripping!"
"Who's to say you didn't hit your head?" She's laughing at his expense and as much as she loves her laugh, he's a man verging on the edge of insanity with her around him.
"Are you even hearing me?" He takes off his shirt and runs a hand through his hair miserably.
"Oh, alright." He feels her run her hands up his back before they land on his should blades and she pushes against him, pulling herself to her tippy toes so that she can press a kiss at the top of his spine.
He shivers at the feel of her lips and she laughs against him.
"Tell you what," she says, her lips still brushing his spine. "I'll wear a different color on our date tonight."
"Yeah, you know, that thing couples go on so they can spend time together?"
"You're not as funny as you think you are, Musa."
"Did we plan something I'm forgetting about?"
He finally turns around so that he can face her, and she's forced to let go of him.
"No, we did not plan anything. But you've been training all week and I've been watching you train all week. And I've decided you need a break… and you're not wearing a shirt right now, which has reminded me that I need attention." She shifts her eyes across his whole form, stopping just above his waistline as her hands come up to his abs.
"Well, then. No inhibitions there. Straight to it, are we?" But he has to chuckle at her statement.
"I spend all my free time living in inhibitions, Riven. Biting my tongue. Dealing with other people's emotions and what not. Mind fairy, remember?" Her eyes come up to meet his, but her hands stay where they are. "I know where to place my inhibitions and reservations, and it's not here."
He stares into her eyes, noticing the way they shine under the dim light of the locker room. He thinks they color resembles the darkest toffee, or maybe those caramel chocolates she so loved. It's another color that haunts his dreams. Has he ever told her that?
"No, baby. You're right. Keep those inhibitions for the rest of this school." He leans down to kiss her, feeling her smile beneath his lips.
She's doing things with her hands, making them dance across his skin as gracefully as he knows she can dance across a dance floor. He's just about to suggest that they go find that corner and she can continue to corrupt him, but before he can find the words, she's pulling away from him.
"I'll see you at 8 when you come to pick me up," she says as she walks backwards, aiming for the exit.
She laughs again, and damn it if the sound doesn't send his heart soaring. Fuck, he thinks to himself. Maybe Stella's bodyguard and Sky weren't the only whipped ones in this rather large group they had formed.
"Don't hate the player. Hate the game," she states with a wink.
"Where are we even going?"
"You'll see!" And then she just walks out the locker room, leaving him staring at the door and surrounded by a million pieces of gear that he was meant to have finished packing ten minutes ago.
Hours later, he's standing in the Winx suite and watching Terra reorganize every plant in the living room as Bloom and Aisha argue about which Harry Potter movie was the best.
"The first one!" Bloom screams from the kitchen as she waits for her tea to boil.
"What? No! The first one had too many introductions and too little action," Aisha screams back at her from their room.
"You're just saying that because you don't appreciate true art."
"True art?! I'll have you know-"
He's just about to lose it when Musa finally walks out of her room. He hears her door open before he sees her and he has just about thirty second to thank the gods for finally putting him out of his misery, and then he turns around… and his jaw drops.
The dress she wears has long sleeves, a low cut V that leaves very little to the imagination, and hangs off her shoulders just enough so that he can see where the curve of her clavicle meets the lines of her neck. It's shorter than the lavender dress she wore to the party last week. That alone could have been enough to end him, but Musa liked to push her boundaries. She liked to test the water. True to her word, she was not wearing lavender. No, instead she was wearing black.
Knowing with absolute certainty that his favorite color was black.
"Pick your jaw up off the floor, Riven." Stella's heavily judgmental voice snaps him out of it. She's leaning by the doorway of Terra and Musa's room, watching him with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk on her face.
"You're one to talk," he shoots her way. "You almost jumped that poor bodyguard during Alchemy class the today."
"Key word there would be almost," she shoots back at him, no shame whatsoever in her voice. "You two, on the other hand, have actually jumped each other in the middle of almost every event we've been to since you started dating."
"That's not true! They were jumping each other even before they got together. I once-"
"Terra!" Musa shoots her roommate a poignant look as her cheeks flush bright red. "We said that would stay between us, remember?"
Well, this is interesting, Riven thinks to himself. Honestly, watching these girls interact is like watching a train crash. A very synchronized one where each cart would willingly crash to try to protect the other carts, but a train crash nonetheless. There's always something interesting going on in this dorm.
"Oh, oops! There was no once. I never once saw anything. Nothing, nothing at all." Terra shuffles back to her plants, but it’s too late.
"No, no!" Stella commands. "Please do tell us what you once saw."
"Yes, please do." Aisha encourages, eying Musa with a wicked smile on her face.
"Yeah, Terra. Come on, tell us!" Bloom's tea is forgotten as she makes for Terra, tugging at her hand and pulling her onto the couch where the rest of the girls go to join them.
"Nope!" Musa all but shouts. "Nope! Nope! Nope! I am not going to stand here and listen to you tell this story. We're leaving. Goodbye!"
She's tugging him out the room as Stella's voice rings into the hallway, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
And as she pulls him through the hallways and into the courtyard, Riven gets a great view of Musa's dress from the back. The back is so very low that he's honestly amazed that it's able to stay on her body without completely falling off. The tip of the V that shapes the back of the dress reaches the bottom of her spine, and as his fingers accidentally brush the sleeves at her wrist, he notices that the dress is velvet. Soft. Warm. And so willing to bend and curve into the exact shape of her body.
In the darkness of the coming night, even her hair looks like velvet black. And when she turns those chocolate colored eyes to him, and the shadows make their color darker too, Riven remembers exactly why he loves the color black so much.
Black has always been Riven's favorite color, and he doubted it would ever change. Well, he used to doubt it would ever change. Currently, he's having a lot of doubts as he watches Musa descend the stairway of Alfea's ballroom in a dress of red color.
The fabric clings to her body and flares at her feet, moving with her as though it was a part of her. Her hair is up and away from her face, and from all the way down here, he can see the bright red of her lipstick. It's the exact same shade as her dress.
A siren, he thinks. She is a siren. And he is just as big a fool as every other man in the stories of sirens, because he would lay down his whole life for a chance to be closer to her. He would follow her anywhere, and he does for the rest of that night. He doesn't even pretend to complain about the dancing.
Later in the night, they're swaying back and forth with her hands tracing the hair at the nape of his neck and his hands at the back of her waist. He hasn't stopped looking at her since she approached him at the beginning of the night, and she hasn’t complained.
"I knew you would like this one best." She says softly, as if she knows he's in a trance and doesn't want to break him out of it.
"The red. I knew you would like the red best. It's my favorite color. Did you know that, Riven?"
"Of course I know that. Why do you think I always have a red pen on me when we're studying together?"
"You don't study, Riven."
"No, I don’t. But you do. And I like to watch you study."
She laughs softly, still not wanting to break the daze they're in.
"You seem to like to watch me do a lot of things lately."
"What can I say? You're a little bit enchanting, my dear."
"I have the girls to thank for that, I suppose. They placed bets on what colors you would like best."
"Do I want to know who suggested what?"
"Probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyways. Terra suggested lilac because she noticed how much liked the color on me. Stella said black because she assumed correctly that it was your favorite color, and Aisha sided with her because it seemed like the winning argument. Bloom said yellow because she wanted to go for something different."
"And red? Who said red?" He shouldn't entertain this game if he wants to live past this school year, but he figures he can manage one or two heart attacks. He's been through worse.
"I did." Her eyes sparkle up at him. He laughs at her answer, because he should have guessed.
She beams up at him with her wide smile. "So, did I win? Is this your favorite color on me?"
His palms brush the bare skin of her back as he dips her, and then pulls her close to him as fast as he can because he craves her closeness like a drunk man craves liquor on his loneliest nights.
And when her eyes glaze over and her gaze wavers as she gives him her shy smile, he knows for a fact that he is further gone than Stella's bodyguard or Sky or any other fool in this fractured world that claims to be in love.
Red becomes his new favorite color.
