( ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸ ᶰᵒʷ ᵃᵐᶤᵍᵒ ) ♪

          “I am drinking orange juice. And then, I’m gonna go up stairs and… Well. I think you can guess the rest~”

      “You’re a sick fuck.”

          “Well... I’d use the word radical...”

      “What… Are you doing in my house?” She knew this was probably one of Tracey’s boys but she was too hungover for this.

          “I am drinking orange juice. And then, I’m gonna go up stairs and... Well. I think you can guess the rest~”

      “What the hell do you want?”

          “Well good morning to you too.” He sipped some orange juice as he closed the refrigerator door.

            Michael takes the hit. Fuck, he’s felt harder punches from            LITTLE GIRLS than whatever this fucker had to offer. The            older man deals out a low sweep against the fuck boy agent,            knocking his legs from underneath him. “I ain’t your fuckin’            amigo.”

          This he had time to counter. When he felt his legs go, he quickly rolled back and stood up again, grabbing his stun gun and firing at him, hitting his chest. “I don’t think you have a fucking CHOICE.”

           “Holy shit.” Short blond hair was a thing now? “I’ve met a lot of hot blondes but… Holy Shit. Are you knew to Los Santos?”

         “Yes, I am”, Was that thing about blondes supposed to be necessary,          “Is there something wrong if I am new around this city?”

          “No, but I’ve never seen you around, and I think I’d remember a sight like you.” Yes, that thing about blonds WAS nessicary, he’s an ass, he needs a way to show it. “Because again, Holy shit.”

                      ❝ i just want what’s rightfully m i n e,                           so don’t t o r t u r e me, please? ❞

          He winced as she cut him “Don’t torture you? Really? I don’t think I’ve ever blacked out this much in my entire life. But even then, it’s hard to tell with a fucking concussion.” 

Michael says nothing in reply, merely grabbing this FUCKING SHIT WAD by the back of his head and BASHING it against the nearest wall.

          Steve was caught off guard, unable to stop his ever impending head trauma. He stays on his feet, stumbling a bit before glaring at Michael and clocking him in the jaw. “Wrong move amigo.”

All the people I follow are like 14 and it makes me a little uncomfortable

“And what the fuck exactly is it then? Cause I ain’t too keen on having ANYTHING in common with you.”

          “Well. Tracey calls us both daddy.”