She was just a masterpiece trying to master peace,...But of course there's always that one fuck up.
Zephyr, a professional photographer finds herself in the middle of her wits and emotions. Afraid of the change that she so much needed and also being...
A/N: y'all don't kill me now! I swear this story was always on my mind, I just didn't know how to go about it. But with some heavy thinking, I finally know what I want to do.
I beg your forgiveness because WHO TF TAKE THIS LONG TO UPDATE!?!??!?!?
Bruh! If only my mind can conjure the picture I have in my mind transcribe on my phone then it'll be so much quicker for me to update 🤣🤣
I do hope you all enjoy this update. Again forgive me if there are any mistakes. I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as possible. To those who are still here I love you and thank you. This ones for you! ❤️
Music
🎶Victoria Monét - F.U.C.K 🎶Omarion - Obsession🎶 Mr Carmack & Kehlani - All In (Lyrics that Zephyr sing)
Disclaimer I do not own the songs listed in this story. Only My OC and original story
❤️&☮️
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter VII
To avoiding potentially drowning in the middle of the sea, Grimmjow had a right to celebrate tonight. The strobelights flashed over like minded individuals however Yammy decided to stay home for whatever reason. Ulquiorra of course didn't answer the phone. Nnoitra, already preoccupied himself with Intoxication. The Panther King only had himself to prowl the floor, content with his lonesome.
While finessing through the dancing crowd, around him seem to be moving too slow or not at all, coming to the realization of it. In this isolation, the bottle of the expensive champagne touching his lips, feeling like the baddest man walking and he had the right to be. Grimmjow, the King, in his element. So why should he look over her shoulder? Who had the balls to dare him?
The bottom of the bottle was the only destination he had in mind. Boots leading him no where in particular. The music slow and reverbed in his ears now. The many eyes he seem to capture he paid little heed to though who caught his own, happen to be the exception. A strawberry-blonde who paid him and everyone else dust. What moved Grimmjow however, also controlled the once impulsive nature brewing within. So instead of indulging in such whims, or lusts, the Sexta carried on to a empty section. One he could have all to himself.
To simply...think.
Usually he wasn't one to harp on the past, but lately it's been proven that was a farce. It's become his new passtime. Something to look at so he could correct his mistakes. To move like the calculated panther he once was. He needed to get back to that.
To that beast of a man.
With his boss's money secured and out of the way. He remember walking in to the situation as if he was invincible. The fucking turd of the balding bastard had the money but there was something in that asshole's eyes that resonated with Grimmjow merely because he knew that look all too well. After all, how would a man look at you knowing you threatened his wife and children?
