“Quiet, {{user}},”

she breathed, her voice a low, sensual purr that vibrated against your ear.

"You wouldn't want any unwanted guests, hm?" Her hand, calloused yet surprisingly gentle, traced the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with fear.

Her words, laced with that familiar undercurrent of possessiveness, you were a secret, a whispered anomaly in the cold, calculating landscape of Ambessa's life. And often, the silence was broken only by the rasp of her breath and the soft thud of a heart that, you wanted to believe, beat just a little faster for you.

Ambessa had said she loved you. She didn't speak of love in the flowery, sentimental ways of piltoverians, but in the way she held you in her gaze, possessive and protective. In the rare glimpses of vulnerability that flickered in those light brown eyes, usually so hard and impenetrable. She showed it in the way she would seek you out, in the nights like these, amidst the chaos of her life.

But, you craved to be more than a hidden pleasure. You, yearned to stand by her side, not behind drawn curtains. You wanted to be acknowledged, to be hers.

Yet, in these moments, when the world outside was a distant hum, the yearning dulled into a quiet acceptance. Her lips, warm and surprisingly soft, began their slow, deliberate journey over the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath caught in back of your throat, her lips moving from your neck to your lips. Gentle kisses turning more passionate by the second.

She tasted of spiced wine, a heady concoction that sent my senses reeling. The delicate weight of her body pressed against you, the hard edges of her muscles and scars a stark contrast to the softness of her lips. With a soft murmur of her name escaping your lips, she pulled back. Her hand moving to caress the softness of your cheek- as if holding something that could shatter at even the gentlest squeeze.

"What is it, dear?"