Dispatch first collection
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(Open, Unmoderated)
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Summary
“No! I just…” he huffs a sigh. “Fine. But I think… maybe I don’t need to hit you once a month anymore. So this is just for training. Or whatever weird loser kink you have that makes you hot for getting your ass kicked,” he scoffs, turning to head towards the open sparring floor.
“Woah, wait – you don’t need to hit me anymore?” Robert is genuinely shocked, and delighted, and suspicious. “What happened?”
“Nothing!”
“Flambaaae,” he draws out the vowels tauntingly, letting a smirk curl his lips.
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Everyone was having a good time celebrating their victory over Shroud and the Red Ring that they may have forgot that some of them were hurt. That some of them were hurt worse then others... much worse.
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Robert should be much more injured after 3 weeks of recovery, bar fights, explosions, torture, and of course, more fighting.
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Robert Robertson can't stop falling in love.
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Robert wants to sink his teeth into Flambae... and voices such a thought on one sunny afternoon break.
It's too bad he forgot what connotation his teeth carry.
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"Never thought I'd make it past 30"
Chad listens.