𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴?
Pairings: Miles Quaritch x fem mangkwan! Reader
Summary: you paint Quaritch’s battle markings, a heated moment sparking a rivalry between you and your sister varang.
Warnings: jealousy, conflict between sisters, love triangle?, slow burn undertones, sensual undertones, flirting, lmk if i missed anything.
Notes: this is something short until i figure out what i want to do for part 2.
Word count: 1.6k
The fire had burned lower by the time you finished mixing the pigment.
Most of the warriors were already marked for battle, Red flame streaks, ash lines, symbols that meant fury and rebirth.
Laughter and low conversation carried across the village but he was still standing there, waiting.
You knew he was.
He stood off to the side again, the firelight rolling across the scars on his chest.
You walked over with the bowl of pigment, pretending you weren’t nervous.
His eyes lifted the moment you approached, slow and knowing.
“Took you long enough, sweetheart.” he said.
Your ears warmed, you tried to keep your voice steady. “You did not ask.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Didn’t have to.”
How you felt for him wasn’t subtle and you knew it.
You stepped closer, close enough to see those faint scars across his chest, the healed cuts along his ribs, you swallowed.
“I will paint you,” you said softly.
“Oh, I figured you would.”
That made you look up.
Up close, he was always bigger than he looked across the fire. Broader.
The heat of him almost mixed with the heat of the flames behind you.
You dipped your fingers into the red pigment. “Hold still,” you murmured.
He leaned back against the stone behind him and spread his knees slightly so you could stand between them, casual, comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Your hand met his shoulder first.
You dragged the first streak of red slowly down from the curve of his shoulder toward his chest, the pigment spread against his skin, bright in the firelight.
He didn’t look at the mark, he looked at you.
Your fingers dipped into the red pigment again, When you pressed your hand into his chest, the heat of his skin bled straight into your palm.
“You’re gentle,” he said quietly.
Your eyes flicked up, surprised. “I am not.”
A low sound left his throat, almost amused.
“You are with me.”
The words were soft, almost thoughtful, and they made your hand falter just for a second.
You dragged your hand slowly from his chest to his collarbone, the movement was careful and red spread across the hard plane of his chest, following the curve of muscle.
“You like this,” he said.
Your hand froze against his sternum.
“No.”
Your answer came too quickly.
His voice lowered, quieter now.
“Like takin’ care of me.”
You bit your lip without thinking.
His gaze dropped to your mouth.
“You fight with us,” you murmured after a moment. “You should wear our marks.”
He hummed softly, the sound low in his chest.
Your touch slowed.
The red dragged across his skin in a smooth line, your fingers following the shape carefully.
His eyes followed your fingers down before looking back to your face.
“real focused, darlin’” he murmured.
“It must be correct.”
“Mm.”
Your hand moved lower with the design, spreading the pigment across the firm lines of his abdomen.
The muscles under your fingers tightened slightly when you pressed there.
He lifted one hand slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted.
You didn’t.
His fingers wrapped gently around your wrist, sliding your hand back up to his chest
“You don’t gotta rush,” he said.
You glance up at him, eyes meeting his again and the way he was looking at you, it made your stomach flip.
“I am not rushing.” you whispered.
But your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.
A small smirk tugged at his mouth. “You are.”
You hand moved again, continuing the mark down downward, dragging the red line slowly along his sternum again.
He watched every inch of it.
letting your fingers trail lower than they had before, smearing the final streak of red across his abdomen
Your hand dragged through the paint again.
Then down.
Just a little farther than necessary.
His breath caught.
It was subtle but you felt it.
"You do that to every warrior?" he asked quietly.
you shook your head, hand slowly sliding lower it needed to be.
Your hand was still smeared with red paint, your fingers hovered near the lower edge of his loincloth,
Too close.
His gaze flicked down briefly then back to your eyes.
“Careful,” he murmured.
You tilt your head to the side slightly as you look up at him, smiling faintly. “I’m just finishing the mark,” you whispered.
The air between you grew thick.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he added under his breath, voice rougher now, “and one of these days I’m gonna forget Varang said you’re off limits.”
Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
“I am not a child…. i can make decisions for myself.”
“I know.”
For a moment neither of you moved.
his eyes dropped to the paint spread across his skin, then they lifted back to you.
"Did good," he said quietly.
There was no teasing in it.
Something warm spread through your chest. "Varang would not approve," you murmured.
A faint smirk appeared. "Varang ain't the one paintin' me."
Your teeth caught your lip before you could stop yourself.
The firelight flickered across his painted chest, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every red streak you had left with your fingers.
You stepped closer, Your fingers drifted just a little farther down, fingers tips dipping into his loincloth, testing.
His biceps flexed subtly as your fingers moved further, he caught your gaze, and small thrill ran through you.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, rough.
You cut him, “I… just want it perfect,” you whispered, smirking faintly.
His eyes darkened, and his chest rose a little faster. He leaned forward, slow, so that his face moved toward yours.
The heat radiating off him had your pulse thudding in your ears, your lips parted slightly, your breath catching.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Your nose almost brushed his.
You were sure he thought you were about to kiss him.
He stopped just short, lingering, close enough that the warmth of his face pressed toward yours, his breath mingling with yours.
Then, with a soft, teasing laugh, you pulled back just enough to escape, tilting your head and letting your smirk show.
“Not yet,” you whispered, voice light but full of mischief.
That small motion, just a fraction of space was all it took.
He groaned low, rough, almost involuntarily, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.
Before you could react, his face dipped, pressing firmly into the side of your neck, his warm breath fanned across your skin.
“You…” he murmured into your neck, voice thick. “You’re something else.”
You both could hear lyle calling for him from a distance
He stood then, rising to his full height, the Mangkwan red stretched across his broad chest like it belonged there.
Like you had meant it to.
He leaned down slightly as he passed you, close enough that his voice was meant only for you.
"Next battle," he murmured near your ear, "you paint me again."
Not a request.
You nodded before you even thought about it.
Before you could even catch your breath, Varang’s hand was on your wrist, pulling you sharply aside.
“Enough!” she snapped, her voice like fire, eyes flashing with frustration.
“sister….” you started, but she cut you off.
“You think I do not see what you are doing? Teasing him like that, touching him, leaning into him…” Her voice dropped.
“I… I was not…” you started, but she cut you off, again.
“You were not what? Teasing him? Touching him? Leaning into him like that?” Her voice rose
You clenched your jaw, looking away, “Varang..”
“No!” she snapped, stepping so close that you could feel the anger radiating off her. “I… I want him. I want him, and you are teasing him, and I cannot…” Her voice faltered for a heartbeat, then sharpened again. “I cannot let you make him yours before I even get the chance!”
You blinked, flustered, cheeks burning, not just from her words, but from the fury you were feeling. “Varang… you cannot…”
“Yes, I can,” she hissed, stepping even closer. “I have seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at him. But he was mine first, and I am not letting you….”
“Oh, really?” you shot back, voice strong, sharp, echoing her intensity. “And since when do you get to tell me what I can or cannot do? He is not yours, Varang.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, lips pressing into a hard line. “Do not..” she started, but you cut her off.
“Do not what?” you challenged, stepping toward her, matching her fire. “You want him? Fine. But you are not going to scare me or boss me around, because you want him. I am not backing down!”
Varang blinked, stunned for a heartbeat, but her jaw tightened. “You… you have no idea what you are doing, “You think this is a game,” she scoffs, voice low, “It is not. You better watch yourself, little sister…”
“No sister, you watch yourself, you’re crazy if you think I’m backing down because you want him!”
she hisses and you hiss back, baring your teeth.
Varang’s chest rose and fell rapidly, the firelight catching her flushed face, the raw heat of jealousy blazing in her dark eyes.
Silence stretched between you, Finally, Varang’s jaw clenched, and she stepped back a fraction, exhaling through her nose.
Her gaze flicked toward where Quaritch had gone, then back at you. A low, frustrated growl rumbled in her chest, “You’d better be careful,” she warned, voice tight.
Then, with a sharp exhale, she turned on her heel and stalked off.
Idk… i thought this was pretty good, i still don’t know if i want to do a happy ending or not?! decisions, decisions, choices, choices!
