Alternate song:
THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES OVER FOR GIVING LOVERS: BOARDING SCHOOL A THOUSAND MOTHERFUCKING VOTES!
💜💜💜💜💜
FUCK YEAH WE FINALLY DID IT!
Y'know this chapter is gon' be good if it has two song accompaniments with it! In my opinion, anything on The Weeknd's discography is TOTALLY Gin; dark, mysterious, romantic, and sleazy AF. If there's a song about stealing yo girl <-- that song is a "Gin" song ( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)
Since I promised everyone some beef back in the "Daddy" chapter, I got you all a FIVE POUND WAGYU KOBE RIB EYE STEAK FOLLOWED BY A FANCY SKILLET-GRILLED FILET MIGNON WITH A SIDE OF IMPORTED BEEF TARTARE FROM BELGIUM ٩(｡•ω•｡)و
And bubble tea (without the pearls and milk) for the vegetarians.
Enjoy!
WARNING (probably the last one I'll ever do because UNPREDICTABILITY TINGS):
THIS. IS. WHY. YOU. DON'T. MESS. WITH. GIN. MOTHERFUCKING. DOLOR. BRUH.
In the largest of the three well-equipped gymnasiums within Amantes Mortem Academy were the distinguished academy's rising stars; the Amantes Mortem's varsity basketball team, otherwise known as the Demons. The boys, tall as evergreens and drenched like they've been rained on by a sudden torrential downpour, collected around the base of a row of hanging ropes that were hung high on a dense metal beam connected to a skeletal iron frame that held the steel metal ceiling like a net.
Preparing for their upcoming game in one week, the Demons were training extensively, fine-tuning their reflexes and working out on days meant for cramming, having mindless fun, and sleep. The captain of the team, Jackson Invidia, peered longingly into his phone, his face forlorn when the one person he wanted to talk to wasn't biting after he'd texted her for the forty-fifth time.
"Why are so obsessed with that frigid bitch?" said Max over Jack's shoulder. Placing his hands over his hips, Max scowled down at his captain who had curled himself over his phone where he sat.
"Shut up Max," Jack snarled, placing his phone's screen to his chest. While most people would've trembled in fear at Jack's ferociousness, Max simply shook his head and deepened his frown at his captain's immaturity.
"Jack, Mac," growled the coach, a fearsome bear of a man with straining muscles rippling down his furry arms and legs, "stop twaddling."
"It's Max, sir," Max corrected.
"Whatever, Mac. Stop bitching at Jack and focus, or I'll give point guard position to one of the juniors."
Currently, the Demons were "resting" after an intense three hour cardio session inside and around the school's athletics buildings. In order to build their upper body strength--and to give the team a bit of a breather--the coach proposed on using two of the main gym's climbing ropes as there was only three large gym mattresses available to pad their long, lengthy bodies if the worst case scenario were to happen.
In all honesty, them practicing their climbing was more of an excuse for the already physically remarkable boys to relax as climbing up these ropes were as easy to them as taking the stairs. At the base of the mattresses, the boys on the ground heckled their team mates on the ropes to touch the metal wrought beams suspended fifteen feet above them--a masculine tradition that the boys, regardless of their sport, practiced despite the school's recommendations not to.
"What happened to Moncton?" said one of the boys sitting by the mattresses.
"Didn't you hear? The guy lost his eye in some freak accident."
"Then one of the dorm prefects found some shrooms in his dorm and he got expelled."
"Oh yeah? Wouldn't he be the perfect mascot for the team we're up against next Wednesday?"
"Fuck the Pirates."
"Fuck the Pirates!"
Laughter and hoots exploded from the team as they cursed their enemies jovially, something which even the couch encouraged with a silent upturned twist of his beefy lips.
The atmosphere in the gym was a heady cocktail of male bravado and that illusory ambrosia of invincibility; they laughed and joked and jeered like boys drunk off their golden youth, like the consequences of their words and actions could not touch them because they were gods destined for glory, for immortality.
They thought themselves to be Victory personified.
But when they turned their heads to the sound of hard soles clicking on the scratched surface of the gym floor behind them, their illusions of grandeur were stripped and the little boys hiding behind their cloaks of invincibility were left naked at the faint sound of a violin playing.
A boy who wore his uniform like he maintained his relationships--lazy, messy, loose--walked into the gym, his jet black locks falling over his gunmetal eyes and his still-bruised cheek covered by a small bandage just above his cheekbone.
Gin Dolor just entered the scene.
Sauntering towards the bleachers with his hands in his pockets and his face a case study of boredom, Gin casually climbed the thin metal stairway to seat himself on one of the plastic chairs facing the team. Taking out a silver lighter and a black cigarette from his pockets, Gin lit the cigarette placed in his mouth with the lighter that had the same colour and sheen as his eyes which were staring down at Jack from across the gym.
"What is he doing here," whimpered one of the boys who was suddenly perspiring heavily--and not from the heavy workout that had them begging for the sweet release of death moments ago. The team silently stared at Gin alert like a herd of prey animals aware of a predator hiding behind a tall wall of grass. The only one who wasn't intimidated by the sudden manifestation of Gin Dolor stood up on his feet, his eyes of burning bourbon never breaking contact with Gin's.
"Hayden, Hunter it's your turn," barked the coach whose temples were spilling bullets of sweat and whose eyes averted the figure perched on the bleachers. There was little the coach could do to kick out this student intruding on his team's training session, because Gin Dolor wasn't just any student.
The only son--and now only offspring--of Dominic Eric Dolor, the co-founder of one of the most powerful law firms in the country, and Li Ru Zhao, the heiress of a real estate empire that owned almost a quarter of Shanghai, Gin Dolor had greatness running in his blood and even greater greatness destined in his cards. His incredible wealth and affluence had already made him an intimidating figure amongst the student body, but it was his mind--brilliant and unpredictable in its mechanizations--that had students and faculty running for the hills and stowing their girlfriends away whenever the bastard turned up to a scene breathtaking, lethal, and dangerous like a fallen angel.
When his younger twin sister Mary was still alive and well, Gin's and Mary's almost inhuman ability to read what the other was thinking was another startling twist to the mysterious boy's legacy. Interestingly, no one knew how deep or how shallow the twins' relationship was; if they were reluctant allies or passionate enemies. But if there was one thing for certain, it was that people believed Gin and Mary had something that was beyond what a normal person could ever have, which was why when anyone addressed Gin or Mary when Mary was still alive, Gin or Mary were called "Dolors"; they came in two or they didn't come at all.
Now as just one "Dolor", Gin stared down at the basketball team below him, puffing out billows of smoke from his luscious pink lips like a dragon aching to breathe fire. He was powerful in money, mind, and more in a way that no one could hope to imitate.
Gin Dolor was truly a god.
"What is he doing?" whispered a paranoid defensemen to a point guard. "Why is he just sitting there?"
"Enough," growled Jack fiercely. "He's harmless. He's only here to screw with our heads."
"B-B-But--"
Jack shot his wilting teammate a look that made the already frightened boy wet himself a little. The fearsome leader of the Demons then shifted that same look to the cocky former East who had crossed his legs and blanketed his arms over the chairs beside him like a paying customer expecting a freak show.
"Ignore him," Jack seethed to his teammates. "He just wants attention. Don't give him what he wants."
Immediately, Jack's teams clasped their mouths shut and turned their heads away from the ominous demon haunting the bleachers. They trusted their captain, Jackson Invidia, the same way desperate souls placed their trust in a megalomaniac cult leader--with undying loyalty. While Jack was in no way a wealthy scion of a distinguished family's billion dollar enterprise, the son of a contract builder and a stay-at-home mom had earned his respect and acknowledgement within the pool of trust-fund kids that had bank accounts and houses worth more than his family could ever earn in a decade.
Jackson Invidia had charisma, strength, and prominence very few could emulate in their explosive intensity and fiery passion. He was the magnetic flame moths willingly perished to, that pin hole of light after a lonesome eternity in darkness. Jackson Invidia was more than just a humble scholarship student that made his way into Amantes Mortem from a throwaway recommendation by his family's friends, the Amares-Leighs.
Jackson Invidia was "the" dream; the dream that edged itself into reality and promised greatness that rivaled Gin's in every way.
Jack wasn't a god.
But some believed that he already was.
"Maddox, Liam, it's your turn," the coached hollered.
It had been only five minutes since Gin's arrival and already one student asked to be dismissed from practice because he "felt ill" while another fled the gym in tears. The atmosphere was unbearably heavy, the lighthearted, boyish banter of before traded in for clenched jaws, cold sweats, the slow bobbing of someone's Adam's apple.
Gin, lounging comfortably in his seat as the smoldering end of his cigarette neared its end, continued staring at the team like he was unaware of the discomfort his presence brought.
"Andy, Mac, get it over with," ordered the coach.
Aside from Jack, Max--the tallest and the most muscular of the Demons--defied Jack's "request" to ignore Gin and glared at the smoking rich boy in the bleachers.
"Mac, get up there!" shouted the coach, the vein in his temple popping.
With one last glower, Max turned his back on Gin and began his ascent up the rope. In the bleachers, a savage glint sparkled in Gin's eyes, the faintest hint of his crooked grin teasing at the corners of his lips.
Aware of the diminutive shift in his expression, Jack's glare morphed into an expression of confusion.
"Hurry up Mac!" the coach yelled up at Max, "You like staring up at Andy's ass or something?"
Max gritted his teeth, the rope creaking under his weight. "I got it coach!" he groaned to which he swiftly said under his breath, "You're the one staring up his ass, ya fucking pedo."
Pulling himself up the rope with more force, Max climbed past the halfway mark and almost caught up to Andy when the sound of something ripping brought everyone's attention to the rafters. Gin flicked the dying butt of his cigarette to the floor and squashed it under his foot.
It was then that realization dawned on Jack and his eyes whipped up to Max. "Max!" he yelled, "get down from there now!"
But it was too late.
The rope Max was climbing up snapped from the top. As he was too high up the rope when it happened, Max could not prepare for his fall and his body slammed onto one of the mattresses before landing hard onto the solid surface of the gym floor.
The entire team froze when the sound of snapping bone ricocheted across the gym.
"What the--" Max said when he sat up from the floor and found his forearm bent at a ninety degree angle. The shock on his face soon fell away to one of intense pain and the boy curled himself over his arm howling like a banshee.
The gym descended into chaos with the coach, Jack, and the team huddling around Max in a panicked whirlwind of pandemonium.
"What the fuck happened?" cried one of the team members.
"Why didn't anyone notice the state of the ropes?"
"We're all gonna die! We're all gonna fucking die!"
"I was just up there! I didn't see anything suspicious!"
"Go get the school nurse!"
The chaos died down instantaneously when slow footsteps tapping on the metal stairs of the bleachers echoed behind the team like the slow clap of a solitary spectator.
Jack and some members of the basketball team who were not focused on calming down Max, turned their heads over to Gin who was calmly descending the bleachers with his hands in his pockets and his face impassive.
"How unfortunate," Gin drawled when his expensive Italian dress shoes finally touched the floor of the gym. "And he was a senior too."
Max's cries and the coach's attempts to comfort him were the only sounds heard as Jack and his team were silenced from hearing the Devil finally speak.
"Oh, I forgot," Gin said, lightly tapping his head with his palm. "I came here because I wanted to return some things to your girlfriend, Muscle Pig."
Without blinking, Gin pulled out a pair of lacy black panties and a bra from his breast pocket and flung them across the floor to Jack. Jack's eyes popped at the sight of them.
"I'm going to get the new ones she got with you," Gin purred, his lips hitching into a sinister sneer.
Twirling on his heel with his hands still in his pockets, Gin strode towards the gym's door like he had not declared war on one of the most dangerous students to cross in this school.
"She said she doesn't want to see you anymore."
Gin stopped in his tracks but didn't look back at Jack whose face was reddening with boiling hot blood.
"She's done with you," Jack hissed, his self-control whittling down to a thread thinner than hair.
Gin's shoulders rose and fell as he exhaled, but his cool never wavered. "She might be done with me," he said coldly, "but I'm not done with her."
Continuing on his way out the gym, Gin never bothered to give the enraged Jack a second glance as he pushed through the doors and left the scene.
As Gin walked down the hallway, one of the team members who'd ran out the gym to get the school nurse ran past Gin in the other direction with the school nurse in tow. Grinning, Gin fished his phone out of his breast pocket and dialed a number.
"Yes? Is this the florist?" Gin said, his voice chipper. "A friend of mine just recently got admitted to the hospital and I want to send him a 'get well' bouquet.
"Yes? Oh, can you make them violets?"
XOXO
You can say that Gin hit him with that DDU-DU DDU-DUUUUUUUUUU o(≧∇≦o) AH YEAH AH YEAHHHHHHHHHH
Fun Random Question: If you had to compare a CP to a BLACKPINK member, who would be who? Jennie would OBVIOUSLY be Gin (their names and their popularity in their respective fandoms are similiarish), but who else do you think would make good comparisons? TELL MEEEE ✩⚫꒳⚫✩
Anyways, thank you SO MUCH for this extraordinary pinnacle: 10k READS and 1k VOTE. I'm SHOOK, like UNBELIEVABLY SO. INCREDIBLE. JUST INCREDIBLE (˃̩̩̥ɷ˂̩̩̥) I'm not dead, right?
This has been a long ass journey, A LONG ASS RIDE, that is in no way finished or ever stopping. For those who've been with me this long: Y'ALL DESERVE THE WORLD, A BUGATTI, AND A VERSACE DRIVEWAY I S2G! Thank you for taking a chance on this story and LOVING IT for as long as you have. I really mean it. I really, really mean it!
THANK YOU FROM THE DEPTHS OF MY HEART.
THANK YOU.
THANK YOU.
THANK YOU!
I'll try to stop myself from revealing anymore "hints" about what is about to come because it'll be more fun that way ;) And also because the story IS GONNA GET FUCKING CRAZIER THAN EVER BEFORE. yEAH I KNOW ITS HARD TO BELIEVE IT BUT ITS GONNA GET REAL Y'ALL.
Thank you once again for helping me achieve this landmark stepping stone and I will be back soon with another update!
I love you all.
Seriously.
💜
-Letalis