Archive of Our Own

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes, well, you just might find

You get what you need

~ The Rolling Stones

The moment he opens the door to his room and catches a glimpse of auburn hair in the low light, Riven’s head starts to ache with a dull sort of throb, the fantasy of getting a solid six hours of sleep going up in immediate flames at the sight of his sort-of girlfriend looming over a dark-haired figure slumped on the end of Riven’s bed. 

He sighs loudly, rubs a calloused hand over his eyes as he shuts the door behind him and leans back on the solid surface, trying with the skin of his teeth to hold onto what little patience he has left after the too-long torture of his day. “What’re you doing here, Beatrix? I don’t have time for games right now. I just want some rest.”

Beatrix’s eyes dart over to him for a mere dismissive instant. “You’re not playing tonight, I am. I just needed you as an excuse.” A malevolent grin spreads over her lips as she gestures to a thick, open book on his desk, illuminated only by the lamp next to it. “I finally got a useful guide from Rosalind’s office. All I needed was the guinea pig, and now here we are.” Her tone is gleeful, excited, but Riven knows from experience that this version of Beatrix is even more dangerous than usual and his shoulders tense in uneasy anticipation. 

He tugs the vest of his specialist uniform up and over his head, drops it onto the back of his desk chair as he sits down to take off his boots. Last week they’d stolen a few more books from the current headmistress’s office, but Beatrix was never forthcoming about what she was looking for, and the fun that Riven thought they used to have together had shriveled to the point where he barely spares her a thought outside of wishing things had all gone differently. He would have broken up with her already, except something inside him screamed not to antagonize her; to stay on her good side for as long as he could. He’s been fortunate - Beatrix really likes how Dane hangs on her every word, practically worshiping the ground she walks on. It had meant Riven was mostly forgotten of late, the unnecessary third-wheel they no longer needed and he likes it that way. Riven darts his eyes to his bed, the unlucky student still motionless and limp in the shadows of the room, a clump of dark hair hanging forward and covering her face. An uncomfortable cramp builds in his stomach. 

“What’d she do to piss you off?” He waves a hand in the general direction of Beatrix’s guinea pig, a vague idea of buying time running through his head even though it’s unlikely to succeed. For once he’s thankful that Sky drew Andreas’ ire during training, resulting in him being stuck scrubbing the training mats tonight as punishment. That’ll take two hours, at least, and Riven damn well better get Beatrix out of here long before that. 

The expression on Beatrix’s face tightens and sours at his question. “I’m sick to death of this one! Rosalind’s always going on and on about her fucking potential and what she could become with the right tutelage, the right guidance. Meanwhile she gives me godawful busy work like I’m not years ahead of the other air fairies already. But now I’ve got the perfect opportunity. I’ll show her that I’m more than she thinks, that I’ve got potential too.” Her eyes glow with a wild fervor, and not for the first time Riven curses himself for not seeing beneath what she initially chose to show him. Beatrix was beautiful and capable, but she had Andreas’ cruel streak within her if you dared to do her wrong.

Riven lets his boots clatter onto the floor, nudges them against the base of his desk and watches with bated breath as Beatrix smiles at him hungrily, leans in close and flips a page of the handwritten tome in front of him. The scent of her magic fills his nose, acrid and metallic. She runs her hand over his head in what might look like affection but instead only adds to the pulsing pain of his headache, her sharp nails digging into his scalp and her rings yanking multiple strands of hair out by the root. 

“I have you to thank for this, you know.” This time her voice is sweet, charming, and it makes him feel worse than the anger she was displaying a moment ago. “I took your phone from your pocket earlier, sent her a text asking her to meet you here.”

Riven resists the impulse to squeeze his eyes shut in annoyance. He hadn’t reached for his phone in hours, hadn’t even noticed it was missing due to the demanding series of fights Andreas had put the specialists through tonight. He’s sore everywhere and just wants a shower and his mattress. Beatrix reaches into her pocket and dangles his stolen phone in front of his face before she lets it clatter to the top of the desk, forgotten. 

“She’s coming along so nicely, Riven. Such a good, obedient little partner already. I believe she trusts you, can you imagine?” 

The words mock him but this time Riven can't ignore the sudden need to really look at the student on his bed and his stomach clenches again, acid burning up into his throat. Fucking hell. The ache in his head is forgotten as his mind starts to spiral. He still can’t see her face clearly but the hair is the right color, the sluggish body petite enough, and Beatrix’s words all but confirm it anyway. It’s Musa, the mind fairy he’s been assigned ever since Rosalind and Andreas established their leadership of Alfea, changing so many routines it barely feels like the same place any longer. The mind fairy he made a point to avoid almost her whole first year. The mind fairy who probably does trust him at least a little at this point, always so eager to learn anything he’ll show her during the grueling training Andreas likes to put the fairies through, like he wants to illustrate just how weak they are, how fragile. How easily they might break in the war that hangs over all their heads. 

Musa isn’t weak though. Not when she gets up every time she’s knocked down and Riven can see the determination in her eyes only gets stronger; burns brighter as if every defeat is just fuel she’ll use to push herself harder.  

His eyes stay fixed on the motionless fairy, and Riven tries hard to deliberately calm himself. It’ll make it worse for both of them if Beatrix gets a glimpse of his worry, his fear over what she intends to do. 

“I barely know her, Bea, but it’s no secret her powers are almost useless in a fight. She can’t control them; she’s no competition for you.”

“I know that, you arsehole!” Beatrix whirls towards him, her lips twisted in a snarl. “Rosalind is deluding herself, thinking this mind fairy can ever be better than me! Look at her - she didn’t suspect a thing, knocking on your door right on time, imagining you were going to spar with her. You should have seen her face when she realized you weren’t here and I hit her with a bolt of electricity!” 

Beatrix giggles and strides back over to Musa, pushing a handful of the other fairy’s hair behind her ear, giving Riven a clear view of her at last. Musa’s eyes look wrong, glazed over and cloudy instead of their usual deep chocolate color. They aren’t even the shimmering purple-violet he’s glimpsed a few times, and as much as he hates being near her when her powers activate, her eyes are beautiful when it happens, so ethereal and mesmerizing and way-too-difficult to forget. He keeps his hands hidden behind the desk, clenches them into fists as he swallows past a sudden dryness in his mouth. No, he does not want to imagine Musa’s face when Beatrix used her painful magic. 

“What did you do to her?” It’s supposed to come out casually, as if he doesn’t care, but Riven doesn’t quite manage the necessary nonchalance. Beatrix hears it because of course she does, her gaze instantly swiveling to look at him like a cat toying with a mouse. 

“Worried about her, are you? Sometimes you’re so sweet, Riven. Really. Maybe it’s no wonder she came running when you called. I know you can be charming when you want to be, and you’ve worked with her for months, one on one. Taught her like the dutiful soldier you are. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you smile when she manages to get through your defenses with whatever weapon you hand her. But your little fairy is just in a trance. For now, anyway.” Beatrix tilts her head, lifts Musa’s hand off the bed and lets it fall back down, like she’s showing Riven just how powerless, how lifeless Musa is before Beatrix takes a few steps back towards the book. She snatches it off the desk, running her finger down the open page, her mouth moving as she reads to herself even in the dim light. 

“Rosalind wants a mind fairy, so I’ll just have to show her that I can do that better than the one she’s got her eye on. I’ve already put her into a receptive state, and I’m going to use what’s in here to take over her mind, see what I can do with it.”

“No!” Riven shoots to his feet, the desk chair scraping loudly on the floor as he practically lunges over to the bed before he can think better of it. It’s instinctive, the urge to protect Musa from whatever Beatrix plans to do, and even though it gives his crazier-by-the-minute pseudo-girlfriend another reason to lash out at him and Musa both, it feels right to put himself between them, to block Musa from whatever mindfuck Beatrix has learned from that dusty old volume he helped her get her hands on. 

“Well, well,” Beatrix coos, her eyes wide. “You surprise me, Riven. I didn’t expect you to appreciate my methods, but actually getting involved? I didn’t see that coming. Although maybe I should have  - I know your type. Don’t know what you want til you get it.”

Riven ignores her sullen rambling. He just needs to keep her attention on him. “Leave her alone, Bea. It’s not her fault Rosalind’s fixating, wanting a mind fairy to manipulate. Maybe she should have kept Dowling around.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” Beatrix hisses, tossing the book on the bed and just barely missing Musa with it. “You helped me steal all these restricted books - what did you think was going to happen? That I wanted them for a goddamned bedtime story? Of course not! They’re here so I can use them! Don’t get up on some high horse now just because I chose the little pet you like to look at when you think no one’s watching to test my powers on.” 

Riven can’t conceal the brief narrowing of his eyes, the anger that flashes there; can’t fully blot out his resentment that Beatrix has noticed things he wants to keep hidden. No matter how hard he tries, his poker face has always been shit. Deception is so much easier when it comes from his mouth. 

Unexpectedly Beatrix laughs - real laughter and not the phony kind he’s heard her feign many times before to get something she wants. 

“Oh, Riven! You’ve just given me the most wonderful idea! Once you realize how much fun this can be, you’ll see things my way.” Her eyes glint in the reflection of the low lamp light and his spine stiffens.

She waves her arms above her head and electricity crackles in the air and before he can say anything, can do anything at all except move closer to Musa, Beatrix starts to chant, the Latin words rolling expertly off her tongue. It’s too fast for him to translate much but he hears his name and Musa’s and then all the lights in the large room flicker and Beatrix’s eyes flash white in the same horrifying way that Rosalind’s do. An instant later it’s over, the lamps back to normal, the room darkened to soft shadows once more and Beatrix smug as she looks towards him.

“Since it’s obvious you care so much about her, you can have her! Enjoy it, because it’ll wear off sometime tomorrow. I’m still building my strength.” She scoops the book off the bed and faces him, her smile menacing and calculating in a way that he would have once liked. “Next time stay out of my business or what I tell her to do won’t be nearly as pleasant for either of you.”

Beatrix flounces away from him then, pulling the door shut behind her with a slam but he goes right for Musa, concern heavy in his chest, his heart racing even as he tries to keep his head. Her eyes look normal again at least, back to brown with amber flecks that glitter in the meager light, but she’s staring blankly at the wall across the room so Riven calls her name, snaps his fingers in front of her nose and then lightly pats her cheek with his palm. 

“Hey, hey! Musa! Are you okay? Muse!” 

The third gentle smack does it, has her blinking rapidly as she stares back at him where he’s crouched down between her knees. 

“Riv,” she mumbles, and it comes out raspy and low and missing a syllable but he’s so relieved she knows who he is that his hands dart out and clutch at her shoulders, rubbing down her arms towards her elbows before he realizes what he’s done. He allows his fingers a brief squeeze before he pulls himself back, gets abruptly to his feet.

“Let me get you some water.” He walks across the room to the cabinet he and Sky keep some dishes and snacks in, grabs a glass and heads to the bathroom to fill it. He can feel the weight of Musa’s eyes tracking his movements and he deliberately loosens his gait, not wanting her to see just how rattled he is. 

Riven hands her the cool water and she takes a long sip before she scoots further up the bed, reaching over to set the glass on his nightstand. 

“You okay?”

“I think so,” she nods, and her gaze darts around the room, taking in her surroundings like she’s never been there before and is satisfying her curiosity. Which is true enough, he supposes, since Musa certainly hasn’t been in his room, has never been on his bed until tonight. Riven shakes his head to derail that train of thought, hurries to change the subject to something safer. 

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Musa scrunches her nose, shuts her eyes for a few moments and he gives himself permission to stare while she’s unaware of it. 

“You texted me,” she smiles up at him, and the edges of his mouth tug up unconsciously in response. “Asked if I wanted to sneak out and spar with you but you weren’t here when I knocked. Your door was unlocked so I just waited. I must’ve zoned out.” Musa looks him up and down, takes in his dirty specialist uniform. “Did you just get in from training?”

“Yeah,” he fibs, not entirely sure what he should say. Musa doesn’t seem to remember Beatrix being in his room at all, and he doesn’t want to scare her. Especially when he has no idea what exactly Beatrix did to her. 

“If you’re only getting done now, we should spar another time. I’m sure Andreas didn’t go easy on you if he kept you up this late. We could just hang out instead.” Musa grins at him again and he finds himself nodding along in agreement, her cheerful mood almost infectious despite the circumstances. 

“We could do that,” he says, pretending this is all completely normal even though he still feels like he’s on high alert. There’s no question that she needs to stick around until he knows more about what she might do, what trigger currently lies in waiting in her head, but he needs to think. Needs to sort out what to do with her, what to potentially tell her. “Do you mind if I take a shower first? It’s been a long day.”

“Of course! You go ahead and I’ll just make myself comfortable while I wait.” Musa toes off her shoes while she’s talking, pulls her legs up onto his mattress and reveals socks patterned with multi-colored guitars. They don’t match the dark workout clothes she’s wearing in the least. On anyone else they’d be garish and silly, but on her they look cute. 

Riven grits his teeth, stalks over to his closet to pull out some random clean clothes, tells himself once more to pull it together. He makes his escape to the bathroom, stubbornly keeping his back to her. “I won’t be long.”

The hot spray of the shower does a lot to soothe his body, but calming his head is another story. The headache he had earlier is different now, still thudding under the surface but his mind is more caught up in the problem that’s likely still making herself comfortable on his bed. There’s a million things Beatrix could have done to Musa, could make her do to someone else; could make her do to anyone else. Riven closes his eyes, ducks his head under the powerful spray once more and concentrates hard to remind himself of Beatrix’s parting words as the water streams over his face. Beatrix had known that Riven cared what happened to Musa - said something about how he could have her - and that if he didn’t stay out of her business, next time would be less pleasant. It’s not a lot to go on considering just how vindictive Beatrix can be, but he also takes a small consolation in the idea that whatever it is, whatever Bea did, she also told him it would be over sometime tomorrow. So maybe all he has to do is just keep Musa in his room, and that will mean that she can’t suddenly go mental on whoever else might be her target. 

It’s not a bad plan, all things considered. It’s already late, most of the school in the process of bundling down for the night if they haven’t already. Sky will come back at some point, but Riven has always been good at making shit up, and besides, Sky will probably be so tired he might not even notice Musa if they’re quiet. It’s just a matter of running out the clock now, keeping Musa under supervision until she’s fully herself again. He can do that. 

Maybe they could watch a movie, or hell, he could ask if she wants to smoke. Settling his nerves wouldn’t be unwelcome, considering the image of a helpless Musa at Beatrix’s mercy is flickering behind his eyes every time he closes them. He has no idea if she’s into that though. Riven sighs, grabs his bar of soap and runs it over his chest, appreciating how the clean scent erases the lingering ozone tang from Beatrix’s powers. Maybe he should just convince her to go to sleep somehow, make up a lie about the specialists on guard duty being required to take any students found in the halls after curfew right to Rosalind for punishment instead of a detention, so she should stay the night in his room to avoid being caught. It wouldn’t really be a lie though, not when Riven expects that kind of consequence to be just a matter of time before it gets implemented. And it wouldn’t be a lie at all since he doesn’t want Musa to get caught in the hallways, especially when she came to his room because she thought he was the one who asked her to. He’s so angry about that, furious that Beatrix used him to bait Musa into a trap. 

He scrubs under his arm and down to his hip, his rough strokes reflecting the frustration in his head. Beatrix’s mocking words about Musa trusting him seem to linger in his ears, louder than he wants. Yeah, he’s been her training partner for months, and teams are supposed to trust one another. He can’t really regret that he’s been at least partially successful in getting Musa to trust him, even if his reputation and usual dickish behavior should send her running away instead of drawing her closer. The whole idea of a partnership is to have each other’s back, to learn each other’s weaknesses and strengths in order to defend them and work as a team. Their lives are more in danger if they can’t succeed at that, and it’s one thing that Riven always takes seriously. But if Musa trusting him means that she’s got a bigger target on her back, he can’t let that happen. He’s already been Beatrix’s pawn because he was gullible enough to believe that she liked him, but lately he’s finally figuring out it’s always been about what he could do for her; how she could manipulate him for her own ends. Not that he’s all that surprised, considering his luck is usually shit. But Riven getting caught up in her mess is one thing - turning her attention towards Musa just can’t continue, whether Rosalind covets a mind fairy or not. 

Of course, he doesn’t really have a solid idea on how to avoid things getting worse, but at least now he’s aware that Musa has eyes on her, and that’s more information than he had before. 

Riven rinses away all the suds, dries himself off in a rush and mutters a curse when he reaches for the folded clothes from his closet. He’d grabbed a comfortable shirt and old sweatpants that he’d cut off to sleep in, but he’d been too distracted to add clean underwear to the pile. He glances at the dirty, sweaty clothes he dropped on the floor and throws them into the large basket in the corner in annoyance. No way he’s putting the same boxer briefs from earlier back on, so the shorts will have to do on their own. He gets dressed, brushes his teeth and fumbles through one of the sink drawers, rooting for an extra toothbrush Sky usually stocks, an unfamiliar feeling of appreciation for his friend’s perfectionism rising within him once his fingers wrap around a narrow box. 

“Hey,” he says, opening the bathroom door and hanging his wet towel on the hook, “since you’re gonna stick around for a while, you might as well-”. He cuts himself off the second he turns to look at her, the words he was about to say lost in a loud mental litany of what-the-fuck-what-the-actual-fuck bouncing around his brain. Musa’s only a few feet across the room, still sitting on his bed but she was clearly busy while he was showering. The form-fitting black and gray outfit she’d worn for them to spar in is gone, replaced with what looks suspiciously like one of his t-shirts and little else. It’s too big, the neck gaping to expose part of one shoulder with no bra strap in sight, and while it conceals a lot until a handful of inches above her knees, her bare legs look incredibly long all stretched out in front of her, the missing guitar socks revealing toes painted a sparkly lilac. 

“I might as well what?” Her head tips questioningly at him but he’s speechless, has absolutely no idea what she’s asking as he continues to stare blankly at her. “Riven? It’s okay that I took a shirt, right? Because I don’t want to sneak through the hallways unless I have to.”

He tears his eyes from the smooth skin of her thighs, awkwardness settling over him like a heavy blanket as he focuses his attention just past her head so he doesn’t have to meet her inquisitive gaze. 

“No, no. I mean yeah, it’s fine that you’re wearing my…that shirt. You should definitely stay. I was gonna suggest it anyway. It’s late, so you’d be in trouble if you got caught.” The sound of his phone buzzing on the desk interrupts his rambling and Riven is incredibly grateful for the excuse to shut up. He quickly moves to grab it, his fingers sliding over the screen as he reads the latest text. It’s Sky checking in, saying he’s finished cleaning the training mats but is crashing at Bloom’s for the rest of the night. It’s also Sky’s way of saying not to worry, that he hasn’t earned himself another punishment of some kind or had another run-in with Andreas, and Riven is relieved in more ways than one with the update. The way things have been going at Alfea, another hour without Sky and Riven would have snuck out to look for him, but now he won’t need to. 

And he won’t need to worry about Sky catching Musa in their room either. 

“Sky’s staying with Bloom tonight,” he tells her, and it occurs to him that she should probably let her own roommates know she’s alright. “Maybe you should let your suitemates know you’re okay too.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I think I’ll tell Flora - she always asks the least amount of questions.” Musa grins at him and picks up her phone from Riven’s nightstand, and once again Riven’s eyes stray towards the hem of her shirt since it rides up when she moves. His shirt. 

He needs something to do so he plugs his phone into his charger and leaves it on his nightstand next to the glass of water she hasn’t finished. “There’s a new toothbrush on the sink. And if you want a shower I can get you a towel.”

Musa gets to her feet, places her own phone next to his, so close that her arm brushes his bicep as she steps towards the bathroom door. “No, I took one earlier and since I didn’t get sweaty with you, I’m good. I appreciate the toothbrush though.”

She walks away from him without looking back, and thank fuck for it, since between the glimpse he got of her pink panties when she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and the erotic mental picture he instantly thought of when she talked about the two of them getting sweaty, his mouth has fallen open and he can actually feel drool pooling beneath his tongue. Riven runs a shaky hand across the back of his neck, feels frozen to the spot as he tries to sort out what to do. 

Tonight has been a roller coaster and he doesn’t know how to say something about Musa changing into his clothes, let alone her being so suddenly uninhibited in his presence that she doesn’t seem to care that she's hardly dressed. Maybe he should just ignore it, or at least let her be the one who leads the conversation from here on out. Or maybe he should just spell out exactly what happened with Beatrix and let Musa decide what to do. A better solution isn’t forthcoming so he turns on the lamp next to his bed, spotting Musa’s folded clothes near his pillow. He picks them up, yanks down the top of his sheet and blanket for her and places her clothes on his desk instead, flicking off the lamp there before he locks the door leading to the hallway. The neatnik who lives in his head no matter how hard he tries to silence it insists that he pick up his boots and put them away and he’s halfway to his closet when the bathroom door opens again, the hinges squealing faintly in the quiet. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted,” Musa gently informs him. “We don’t have to watch a movie or anything. If you want to go to bed, I’m good with that too.”

Riven puts his boots into the neat line of shoes already on the floor of his closet and closes the door, slowly turning around to face her. She may not know it, but she’s making things infinitely easier on him with her offer of an out. The quicker they fall asleep, the quicker whatever Beatrix did wears off. 

“I could definitely sleep.” He gestures toward his bed. “If you get cold, there’s more blankets in the bottom dresser drawer.”

He starts to walk past her, intending to make use of Sky’s bed for the night but Musa reaches out and catches his wrist with gentle pressure, halting him in his tracks. 

“Where are you going?”

“To sleep,” he answers, confusion making his voice more brusque. “I’ll take Sky’s bed tonight.”

“Why? Are you mad at me?”

He doesn’t understand her line of questioning and maybe that’s written all over his face because she steps closer, near enough now that the scent of peppermint toothpaste mingles with the spicy floral perfume she likes to wear. Her hand on his wrist tightens and he starts to feel too hot in his clothes. 

“Since when do you not sleep with me?” she asks, and he’s filled to almost bursting with a hundred questions of his own, starting with since when have they ever slept together - because he’d sure as hell remember that - but then he’s glad he doesn’t blurt out anything rash, feeling stupid because god knows what messed up things Beatrix has her believing. 

“I…just didn’t want to assume,” he says eventually, careful with both his explanation and his expression as he watches her, not wanting to be too obvious that he’s blindly feeling his way. 

Musa rolls her eyes, lightly swats at his chest with her free hand before her fist gathers the material of his shirt and pulls his shoulders down until they’re almost nose to nose. “You’re an idiot.” She says it fondly though, and her eyes are warm and teasing and he’d like to stay like this for a while, his body curling towards hers like it so often wants to do in her presence. But then she throws him another curveball. 

“I always want to sleep with my boyfriend.”

It’s full of tantalizing insinuation, her little bombshell, but Riven is spared barely a moment to consider the ramifications since a second later her arms wind around his neck and her lips are soft and insistent on his and she’s kissing him with so much familiarity that the only thing he can think to do is raise his hands to her hips and tug her into him, yielding completely as he groans into her mouth, deepening the kiss for a few sinful stolen moments before he forcibly reminds himself that Musa is not Musa right now. 

Pulling away from her is harder than he wants it to be, especially when her eyes slowly flutter open, her sweet mouth - fuck, he knew she’d taste fantastic and she does - twisting into a pout. 

“Why’d you stop?”

He swallows down another groan, his breathing loud and harsh to his ears. She looks as disappointed as he feels, and he’d like nothing better than to ignore his conscience and indulge in every single fantasy he’s imagined since she first came to Alfea, but even he isn’t that much of an asshole. So he makes himself drop his hands away from her hips, offers her a careless shrug and an arrogant smirk he has to fake. “Just like to keep you on your toes.”

Her eyes narrow but then her brief grin contains a trace of mischief before she moves away from him and ever so slowly and deliberately puts her knee onto the mattress, literally climbing onto his bed and giving him a clear view of her ass, scantily covered in silky bubblegum pink. She crawls over to the side closest to the wall, pushing the sheet down farther before she turns her head, watches him over her shoulder like she knows exactly what she’s doing to him. 

“Are you coming?”

Jesus, she’s… How the actual fuck is he supposed to behave when she’s looking at him like that? When she’s wearing his shirt and those panties and she’s in his bed and the two of them are all alone? When just a few minutes ago she was sucking on his tongue and he wants her to do it a thousand more times just to see if he’ll ever get enough? He’s already turned on and aroused from a simple fucking kiss, his head abuzz over why she’s calling him her boyfriend but liking it all the same even if it does make him some kind of morally bankrupt deviant, and oh yeah, it bears repeating that she wants him to join her in bed. In his bed, where he’s jerked off to thoughts of her countless times.

He’s so fucking screwed. 

Which is probably the point, if he knows anything about Beatrix. And he does know her, because they’re more alike than he cares to think about. They’re both loyal, in their own screwed up ways, and Beatrix could deny it til kingdom come but she wants Andreas’ approval just like Riven has always wanted his own father’s. So she was right about him not approving of her methods but for the most part he’d stood by in the past, let her do whatever she wanted without much of an objection because he knew she was trying to prove her worth. That was understandable, but now... Now Riven rakes his eyes over Musa as she slips her legs under the covers, turns onto her side and rests her head on his pillow, watching him just as blatantly as he’s watching her. Manipulating him to her own ends he could live with, could even admire it up to a point. But letting Beatrix do whatever she wanted with Musa was never going to happen. 

And as much as he’s tempted, as much as that one kiss made him want his training partner even more, he’s not going to let anything happen tonight between them, no matter what Beatrix meant when she said that Riven could have her - and he’s beginning to suspect Beatrix meant that quite literally, her cruelness on display more than usual with this little scheme. But that promise to himself isn’t going to stop him from sliding into bed next to her, from turning out the dim lamp and laying his head down only inches from her own. It’s not exactly how he’s imagined it, but there’s no part of him that’s going to hate sleeping next to Musa. 

The sound of her soft breathing is low and rhythmic, her eyes reflecting what little light streams in from behind the window curtains. It’s equal parts calming and stimulating to lay this close to her, their shins brushing when her knee bumps his, the chill of her feet noticeable when they’re so close to his own. Her hand splays out on the narrow slice of mattress separating them, almost as if she’s reaching for him. It’s so quiet in the room even though his jumbled thoughts are loud in his head, but somehow he’s not as worried anymore. If his suspicions are correct, Beatrix has used the mind control spell to make Musa believe that Riven is more than just her training partner, and that means his fears about Musa suddenly going rogue on someone, on instigating some kind of attack where she could be hurt in the process is probably unfounded. He’s the threat to Musa now, set up to be the bad guy because Beatrix found out that Riven’s feelings aren’t exactly nonexistent. Are, in fact, so existent that he can feel them practically simmering underneath his skin, threatening to boil over and out of him. Maybe the joke is on Bea though, because as much as Riven feels, as much as he wants, hurting Musa is the last thing he’d do. Whatever Beatrix’s intentions with this fucking spell, Riven won’t play her game. 

“I thought you said you could sleep.” Musa’s hushed whisper interrupts his thoughts and he blinks a few times, his eyes dry from staring at her while his mind raced. 

“Maybe I could, if only someone wasn’t talking to me and keeping me awake.” It’s a lie; he’s still too worked up to sleep and probably won’t all night, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. And maybe because he wants to make this last. But he likes teasing her, and he's long suspected she likes it too. 

“Well, since you are still awake, I can think of something to occupy us.” 

Her hand does reach for him then, cups the back of his neck as she shifts across the bed and presses herself against him, her soft curves slotting into the hard lines of his body like some made-to-match puzzle piece. Her chin tips up and he’s already gathering her closer, wrapping his arms around her until there’s no space between them, her lips opening under his eagerly. It’s just as perfect as before, better even with them tucked under the blankets and her fingers creeping up under the edge of his shirt, her nails scratching lightly over his stomach. 

He lets it go on for ages, the two of them making out and cuddling in his bed, and he tells himself that this can be allowed, that this is where he’ll draw the line because it’s better than taking things too far and there’s something so tangible between them, so much lush desire that expecting nothing to happen wasn’t remotely realistic. Not when Musa keeps instigating their kisses, not when she makes such satisfied little hums in the back of her throat when his lips skim near her ear. Riven keeps his hands from exploring though, holds them near her waist or along her back so he can pull her tight to him, only lets them slip up into her hair so he can cradle her head and run his thumb along her jaw. Tries to keep his mouth from exploring too but that’s even harder, the sensitive skin of her neck practically calling out for attention, the bare hint of her collarbone exposed by the neckline of his t-shirt just too tempting to resist. 

Riven doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on just by kissing before but he’s never wanted to savor it like this either, blissfully content to lose himself in the feel of her arms around his shoulders, the fervent way she responds to him, the weight of her thigh thrown over his. She touches him so tenderly, her hands gentle and then more and more demanding the longer it all goes on until she stuns him when she uses what he’s taught her to roll him to his back, her legs on either side of his hips as she’s suddenly looming above him. 

Musa smiles down at him, pleased with herself, and it’s already almost too much, this particular position a favorite when he’s fantasized about her and what he’d do if he ever got her into his bed. And now she is here, and she’s gazing down at him just like he’s wanted, hungry and insatiable like he is for her but it’s not the way he wants her and if it was up to his head he’d put a stop to it all right fucking now but oh god his body has a say too and she’s rucking his shirt up, tugging it roughly over his head as she swings her leg to the side, straddles his left thigh so she can lean down far enough to nuzzle a kiss right over his heart. An ache shudders through him and he grabs her wrists, pins her hands against his naked chest where she’s resting them, his mouth opening with intentions to tell her they have to stop but she’s so quick, capturing his lips in another greedy kiss that leaves him speechless. She starts to rock against him as the kiss gets wilder and his every brain cell is abruptly and unrelentingly aware of the damp, overwhelming heat of her, the satiny slide of her panties on the bare skin of his thigh. It feels like he’s moving in a dense fog as he breaks out in a sweat, breath labored and choppy, his hands slowly releasing his hold on her wrists to grip tightly to her hips instead, to force her cunt down harder against him as she throws her head back and moans even as she bucks herself faster, the uninhibited way she chases her pleasure driving him insane. He’s hard as a rock, heavy and throbbing, watching her, feeling her get slicker and hotter until the flimsy fabric of her panties is as soaked as she is, the inside of his shorts sticky with pre-come as his own arousal gets stronger. Everything in him strains against the urge to flip her beneath him, to plunge his cock into her and take what she’s offering regardless of the cost but he hangs on by a thread, thrusts his thigh more firmly between her legs, sits up just enough to nip his teeth across her jugular and speak what he wants into her skin. 

“That’s right, baby. Fuck yourself on my thigh just like that, let me feel how wet you are for me. I want to feel you come like this, without me even touching you. Getting so worked up with only kisses, neither one of us even naked. I can see how hard your nipples are through my shirt and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on them. Yeah, like that, harder. Let me see you come, sweet girl, let go for me.”

Her body gets more taut as he urges her on, her hands digging into the muscles of his biceps as she grinds herself into him more frantically, and he grins wickedly on the underside of her jaw when her sighs get louder, her thighs begin to quiver and then it’s his name escaping her mouth. He slides his fingers into her hair, holds her head so he can see her face as she comes, her brown eyes flickering with the faintest traces of lilac for the first time tonight. It’s thrilling, absolutely intoxicating the way her hips stutter and falter and her entire body goes limp enough that he’s the only thing holding her up. 

Riven shuts himself off to every incriminating thought that floods his mind the longer the two of them stay curled together, determined to shove everything else away and just have Musa relaxed in his arms, her head tucked on his shoulder and her steady breath against his throat. The scent of her is thick in the air and he breathes it in deeply, runs his hand through her hair, down her back, does it over and over until he thinks he’s put her to sleep but the moment he stops she stirs against him. Musa licks her lips and he can feel the quick tease of her tongue as it swipes close to his jaw and the arousal that he’d pushed aside in favor of her needs rushes right back, making him clench his teeth. 

Musa nudges him down flat onto the bed, his head once again on his pillow and their eyes meet as he looks up at her. Her hair is tangled from his hands and the shirt she’s wearing - his shirt - looks far more rumpled than when she’d put it on. 

“You’re good at that,” she tells him, and he likes the sound of her voice like this, husky and sated. Wishes he could hear it more often but that thought makes his head ache so he bunches the sheet between his fingers and flicks his eyes away. 

“Good at what?”

The mattress creaks as she lies down next to him, surprising him a little as she tucks herself close. His arm goes around her without conscious thought and before he can really take it all in she’s laying on her side with her head on his bare shoulder and her leg draped over his like she’s going to pin him in place. “Saying such filthy things. Making me come.”

He swallows thickly at her words and because her hand starts to move down his ribs. “So you liked it then.” It sounds more like a question than he intends it to be. 

“Mmm-hmm, I did,” she agrees, her fingers teasing just above the waistband of his cutoffs for agonizing seconds before she slides her hand down farther, squeezes the rigid length of him through the soft material. “And now I bet I know what you’ll like.”

The sensation of her hand is like a strike of lightning, leaves him buzzing and full of energized static but he has enough willpower left to throw his arm out, pin her hand under his to stop her from continuing to stroke him. Christ, he could let himself off the hook for the time-got-fuzzy makeout session, but letting her get off on his thigh was bad enough even if he had managed not to touch her considering just how fucking much he wanted to. But allowing her to make him come when she’s not herself? Nope, there’s no coming back from that one, and already he has no idea how he’s going to tell her about the kissing, let alone confess how he knows what she looks like when she comes and how often he’s going to picture that now. And he’ll have to tell her all of it, or at least most of it anyway, if they stand any kind of a chance of salvaging their training partnership. And because Beatrix will hang it over his head otherwise, and having Musa find out from someone other than him is not something that can happen.

So he’s got a goal but no kind of solid plan when he opens his mouth, wholly focused on getting her to end his torture before it’s too late. “Oh christ, you gotta stop that, Musa!” 

She allows her hand to stay pinned down between his fingers and his dick but she gives him a taste of his own medicine as her mouth moves against his neck. “I don’t want to stop, Riv. I want to make you feel good, like you did for me. I can use my hands if that’s what you want. Or my mouth. But I really want to have you inside me, filling me up. I know you want me; I can feel how much.” She punctuates her words with a softer squeeze and a slight twist of her palm and nothing in the Otherworld could stop the literal whine that escapes him, the intense physical need to buck his hips up into her hand so incredibly strong that he does it twice before he can control it. 

Fuck fuck fuck, she’s going to kill him. He wants everything she’s suggesting and then some, but as dizzying and incredible as it is to hear her talk like that, to hear her say she wants him, there’s something else he wants more. He’s messed things up beyond what he meant to already but he won’t go over the line any further. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he broke her trust, even if it means he’s protecting her from his own convoluted desires. 

It’s easier than he expects once he reminds himself what’s important, to come up with another lie that she’ll hopefully buy, one that won’t make her feel like he doesn’t want exactly what she does. He lifts her hand away from his cock and it twitches in his pants like it’s straining towards her as he settles her arm over his waist instead. No, his body and his brain are not on the same page. “You’re doing a very admirable job, trying to make me lose the bet, Muse. But I’m not giving in to you no matter how you sweet-talk me.”

A frustrated huff tickles over his skin as Musa tenses against him. “What bet?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t remember when it was your idea to begin with.” He laces his fingers with hers, tries to sound relaxed and playful as he pulls her into his side until she’s practically an extension of him, a necessary limb. “You said I couldn’t keep my hands off you, bragged that I couldn’t go a day without trying to pull you into some dark corner of Alfea. And then you know how it goes, each of us raising the stakes. And now I’m about two days away from winning after you bet me that I couldn’t go a week without having an orgasm. So no, I'm not gonna let you tease me into losing no matter how appealing you make it sound.”

Riven can almost imagine Musa’s forehead furrowing as she tries to remember something that never happened, but he’s hoping it’s enough like their usual back and forth squabbling that it’ll make sense to her, even in some small way. She snuggles back into him, rubs her feet against his calves to warm them up and it feels like a good sign. 

“Why would I make a bet like that, considering you abstaining would punish me too?”

He laughs at her frustrated tone, something tight loosening in his chest. “You were angry at me, so you weren’t thinking straight.” She nods, her head bumping his chin, accepting his answer. 

“That makes more sense. You do push my buttons.”

“One of my favorite activities. But for the record, one guess who made sure to clarify that you were allowed to come at any time as long as it was me initiating it.”

Musa yawns and tucks her head lower on his shoulder, sounding sleepier with every word. “Always a strategist, making the smart play. No wonder you’re so good at teaching me how to fight.”

The compliment has him feeling warm all over and as he pulls the blankets up higher so they cover her shoulders, he thinks maybe this hasn’t gone too poorly; maybe it won’t be too bad when he recounts it all to Musa when he gets up enough nerve when the mind control wears off. Because even if Musa thinks he’s her boyfriend because of Beatrix’s mind-control envy, that wouldn’t make her say nice things, would it? She wouldn’t have to like him unless she wanted to maybe, and Riven can count at least a few moments during this weird as hell night where Musa definitely seemed to like him. 

He closes his eyes to the new barrage of thoughts, tries to will his erection away without success. Though he really doesn’t expect it to fade anytime soon, what with her being so close. “Go to sleep, Musa. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Riv. I love you.”

His eyelids snap open so fast they sting, Musa’s words echoing around the room like she shouted them instead of mumbling them on her way to dreamland. They don’t feel real but Riven is certain they were because he would never ever come up with them on his own. His whole body feels stiff again, like it was when he first opened the door to his room and spotted Beatrix - was it only hours ago? - and it makes him realize just how relaxed Musa had made him when all his bruises and pains begin to nag at him once more. Even his headache returns but now it’s because Riven knows it doesn’t matter how many times Musa seemed fond of him tonight; that she might actually care about him in some small way after all. Everything, all of it was an act, a reaction to Beatrix’s spell. It wasn’t him that Musa was comfortable around, not Riven that she wanted to kiss. Just some idea of a boyfriend that Beatrix planted because she knew it would fuck Riven up just as much as it would hurt Musa. 

A red-hot rage races through him all of a sudden and he forces it back, doesn’t let his body tighten under and around Musa’s to transfer his anger where it doesn’t belong. No, Musa hasn’t done anything wrong except get stuck with him for a training partner. Except have so much potential power in that mind of hers that the goddamned egomaniacal new headmistress wants to groom her and use it for herself. Except to have drawn the jealous wrath of the girl he’d chosen as his goddamned girlfriend because Riven pushed away the things that were good for him and tightened his fist around the ones that did damage. 

Fuck Beatrix for seeing that he watched Musa with desire in his eyes instead of the usual derision. And fuck him too, for wanting to believe that someone as good as Musa might actually like him, might actually want to be around him. But even the sliver of battered and bruised hope he still carries inside him isn’t strong enough not to shatter the instant she sleepily told him she loved him. Because no matter how much he’s longed to hear it, no one has said that to him since his mother died when he was six, and it fucking figures the first time he’s heard it in over twelve years is because the person’s being mind-controlled. 

Worse than that even, the person who said it might be the only one he’s truly wanted to hear it from in all this time, even if he’s buried that thought so deep he’s only just now realizing it. 

He hates Beatrix. Hates her so fucking much for taking away the one thing he’s secretly coveted even if she did manage to give it to him in a roundabout way in the first place. Hates her because she did it on purpose, her taunts prior to casting the spell ringing in his ears once more, knowing now what she meant. I know your type. Don’t know what you want til you get it. 

Ain’t that the fucking truth smacking him right in the face. Because he’s got it right now - they’re in his bed and Musa’s asleep in his arms, cuddled up like she feels safe; like she trusts him and he’s never felt more content. And even if it wasn’t real, he knows now what it sounds like when she says it, knows how fiercely he wants to hear it when it is real. 

Yeah, maybe Riven didn’t know what he wanted before. He’s settled for a lot of things that don’t make him happy just because they’ll get him through, but as he peers down at the mind fairy asleep on his chest he’s struck with the clarity that everything is different now. He tightens his arm where it rests along her upper back, flexes his fingers between hers where their hands rest near his heart. It’s only a slight stretch to tilt his chin down and kiss the top of her head, only a little bit daunting when he quietly clears his throat, lets himself be honest for the first time in a long time. 

“I love you.”

It’s okay that she sleeps through it, because he knows the truth. 

His words are real, and maybe someday he’ll tell her. 

Musa’s eyes flutter open to streaming sunlight coming in through the two windows in her and Terra’s room. It’s warm in her bed and she doesn’t want to get out of it so she rolls to her side away from the light, snuggles deeper into the blankets. Her eyes fall on the chair next to her bed and there’s a familiar piece of clothing flung across the seat. She smiles, shuts her eyes again with every intention of going back to sleep but a moment later her eyes fly open. Yes, it’s a dark green shirt she recognizes, but it isn’t hers. How did it end up in her bedroom?

It’s Riven’s shirt, and she knows that without having to look at the fancy insignia on the front or even the back where she’ll find a list of twenty or so names - including his - because top specialists from multiple schools were all invited to some sort of famous elite training camp last summer. She had gotten so used to seeing him in the new black uniforms that Andreas had provided when she’d come back to Alfea her second year that the first time he’d casually worn that dark green shirt around her had sort of cemented itself in her head. It brought out his eyes, and Musa had struggled not to show him that she was flustered, that she’d suddenly been reminded just how attractive he was after months of glaring at him each day on the training mats. 

She can’t stop staring at the shirt and its presence in her room bothers her enough that she forces her legs over the side of the bed, takes the three steps over to the chair to snatch it up before darting back under the covers. It’s Riven’s shirt all right, and damn her for being completely certain the second she buries her nose in it. The shirt smells like him underneath a layer of laundry detergent - the soap he uses, the deodorant, even his stupid hair products. But really, she’s not a creep for knowing, considering just how much time she spends pressed against him and pinned underneath him when he’s teaching her how to fight. It’s impossible not to know what he smells like. 

But knowing that it’s Riven’s shirt doesn’t explain why it’s in her room. And nothing explains why she stretches down under the blanket and keeps the shirt clenched in her hands, drawing it up near her face when she closes her eyes and tries once again to fall back asleep, her head feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton and her body more exhausted than usual. 

When she wakes the next time it’s with a loud gasp, her body surging up into a sitting position, her hand - still holding tight to Riven’s shirt - going to her throat in shock. She knows how his shirt got into her room - she had worn it there, tugged it on over her gray and black separates when she left Riven’s room and he’d walked her to her suite earlier this morning. 

She knows other things too, like how she’d gone to his room in the first place the night before because he’d sent her a text asking if she wanted to spar - only when she’d arrived, Beatrix had been there instead. And then things got a little fuzzy but she remembers suddenly she had felt something painful before she was empty for a while, as if she were somehow a blank sheet of paper instead of Musa. And when she could focus again, Beatrix was gone and it was only her and Riven, and he’d been pretty great. So great that she’d kissed him, had kind of thrown herself at him actually. And then the things she remembers make her feel overheated, her pajamas too tight for her to breathe properly. They’d been in his bed, him only in a pair of worn shorts once she’d taken his t-shirt off him and her wearing the shirt she’s still holding along with a skimpy pair of panties and oh god, oh god. Even though all they’d mostly done was kiss for what felt like hours - and damn did he ever know how to do that - she’d used his firm thigh to get herself off while he said…very wicked things to her. She flushes even more when some of those things replay in her head, and she waves her hand near her face, wishing she could cool herself off. Or maybe just borrow Stella’s powers for a few months so she could disappear for a while and not have to face him. 

What the actual fuck had happened last night? She picks up her phone on her nightstand, looks at the time. It’s close to four P.M. already and she’d slept most of the day away. If she had to guess, Riven had left her at her door maybe around eight this morning? Musa frantically searches her brain, trying to remember something that feels important. 

“Promise me you’ll go back to sleep when you get inside,” Riven requests, and Musa nods even as she covers her mouth to hide a huge yawn. 

“No arguments here. I feel exhausted even though I don’t remember waking up at all until you tried to get out of bed.”

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t sleep, and I have a specialist session soon anyway. Sky and I will be in and out all day, so you’ll get more rest here. Otherwise I would have let you sleep.” 

Riven looks like he wants to say something more but he doesn’t, only crowds her a little closer against the wall near the Winx doors, his eyes flicking back and forth around the hallway. 

“Will you have dinner with me later?”

He hesitates before answering and she’d swear he’s nervous but that doesn’t make sense. “I don’t know what the rest of the day is going to look like with Andreas. I might not be able to make it if he keeps us late again. And anyway, you might change your mind.”

She frowns at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I understand if you get held late but I’m not going to change my mind. If I don’t see you there I’ll try to save you something. Maybe we can meet up after.”

“Alright. Thanks.” His hands rub up and down the tops of his thighs in a very real sign that she wasn’t wrong about him being nervous but at least this time he doesn’t go quiet. “Listen, promise me something else, Musa, even if I sound crazy right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It might be tough to remember this conversation, but try really hard for me. Just remember that I didn’t send those texts, and I didn’t know any of it was going to happen.” He swallows and reaches for her hand. “And when you’re ready, come find me so we can talk about it all.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely right that you sound crazy, Riv. That doesn’t make any sense. You did text me last night, remember? You asked me to spar but by the time you got in, it was late and I stayed over. Obviously, since we just left your room to walk here.”

“I know, Muse, I know. Just humor me, please. I gotta get outside now or I’m going to be late. Just get some more rest and maybe it’ll make sense later.”

“Fine,” she sighs, pouts a little when he lets go of her hand and turns away from her, long strides taking him back up the hall. She keeps her voice low since it’s still early and her roommates like to sleep in, but she whisper-shouts it loud enough for him to hear her. “Hey! Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?”

He moves back towards her faster than he walked away, his hands cupping her face just before he ducks his head and kisses her so ravenously her knees go weak. It’s over much too soon and then he’s staring at her so hard it feels like he’s looking for something, seeking some answer to a question he hasn’t even asked her yet. 

“Remember for me, Musa.”

She nods again because she doesn’t trust that her voice will work, reaches for the door handle and lets herself into the suite. 

The conversation at her door this morning flashes through her head as clear as a bell, and this time the things Riven said do make sense. A feeling of relief washes over her, that he’d made a point to tell her he didn’t text her to come spar, that he hadn’t known anything about Beatrix being in his room. Beatrix did something to her, something to her mind. Musa knows that much but she isn’t entirely sure yet just what happened. For some reason the knowledge evades her; each time she tries to narrow in on it, it only gets farther away. 

Her stomach growls, and Musa sighs, aware she’s going to have to leave her room soon, make her way to the kitchen for something to eat. Already she can hear voices beyond her door, and the girls will all want to know why she’s slept so much, if she’s okay. She is okay - actually she’s better than okay considering her body feels loose, relaxed from the lingering effects of the orgasm she’d unexpectedly had the pleasure of, but that’s not something she’s ready to share with them. 

She isn’t ready to tell them much of anything, really, considering she feels like she should discuss it all with Riven first. Maybe he’ll know why she’s still so tired. And maybe he can tell her why they’d kissed, why she’d let him…

Well, technically he hadn’t really done anything other than the kissing bits, since she’d basically taken charge of the rest of it herself. Embarrassment floods her again and she tries to keep her breathing calm. Maybe Riven knew why she’d done that too. Although she should be honest with herself - she might already understand why, at least partly. 

Riven is her training partner, and for months she’s spent so much time with him. He might have a bad boy reputation and a smartass mouth, but he’d been better with everyone lately, less mean even if he had been hot and heavy with Beatrix and Dane earlier in the year. Besides, he was always pretty nice to her - nice for Riven, anyway. She kind of likes his smartass mouth, the way they argue back and forth while he tries to teach her a new move. He never made her feel stupid when she didn’t get something right away, and when she did get it right? He’d make it sound sarcastic, sure, but he never failed to acknowledge her progress; would find a way to tell her she was getting better without actually using those words. Riven made training fun, and the way Alfea had been since Rosalind and Andreas had taken over - well, that was a fucking feat. Because hardly anything was fun anymore but being with Riven was. He makes her laugh, makes her want to get out of bed even in the godawful chill of the early morning so she can show him that she’s listening to what he teaches her, that she’s so much more confident with him as her partner than she’s ever been before.  

Her mind wanders as she considers exactly how she feels about Riven, and for whatever reason her thoughts land on just how much he was holding back with her last night. Not that their shared kisses hadn’t been passionate, because that’s one thing she’s certain of, but in the way he hadn’t pushed her into anything. In the way he hadn't really touched her even though she had wanted him to. And he definitely wanted to, she was sure of that too. Or at least, she was a little bit sure of it, because he couldn’t have kissed her like that, couldn’t have gotten so hard beneath her palm like that unless he wanted her too, right? She had been practically begging him to fuck her and he’d shown so much self-control even when she’d gotten so…needy. Musa didn’t want to think about it too hard, but she didn’t think everyone in the school would have been so responsible. Whatever Beatrix had done, Riven took care of her while they were together. She needs to thank him for that, for not taking advantage even though she hadn’t known she wasn’t herself. 

He was always good to her in ways she didn’t expect, always looking out for her even when he pretended he wasn’t. 

Musa kicks the covers back, notices the dark green shirt still tight between her fingers. It smells just right. She does love it when he wears this shirt - it was probably no wonder she’d taken it out of his closet to slip on when Riven was showering. A part of her doesn’t want to give it back to him, wants to keep it and wear it around the suite and sleep in it and think of him whenever she pulls it over her head, taking comfort in the scent of it. 

The realization sets off alarm bells in her head and she starts to laugh at herself, muffling her mouth into the pillow so her friends won’t hear. How could she be so damned blind? No one has an emotional response like this over a shirt that belongs to just someone in their social circle, just a training partner, just a friend. Musa may not be able to say when exactly things started changing in her head, but Riven is more than any of those things to her. And she thinks maybe he has been for a while even if she didn’t know it before now. He’s the person she first thinks of when she has good news, the first person she knows who will have her back when everything goes to hell, and the only person she wants to be kissing. And then some. 

Last night in the darkness of Riven’s room, she remembers she told him she loved him before she fell asleep. Maybe she wasn’t exactly herself then, but something within her had known to say it. Had known that her heart was there even if her mind hadn't caught up yet.

Soon. 

Soon she’ll tell him again. And this time it’ll be her. 

It’ll be real.