Never Getting Older Chainsmokers Novels & Stories

He felt it of course, curling his fingers until my thighs quivered. “Beg,” He demanded. “Please,” I gasped, voice cracking. “Please daddy, let me finish.” He chuckled, satisfied. He pulled his hand free again, smearing my wetness across my inner thigh. “Not tonight princess. Tonight you’ll understand just who owns you.” The chain around my neck loosened suddenly and the collar slipped into his palm. He pocketed the item, straightening his suit like nothing had happened while I was left trembling against the SUV.

Marc swept through the palace, all had been quiet for seven years. Well… almost quiet. Giggling reached his ears before he heard his brother growling, “Right you two ratbags, are you behaving?” Marc had to shake his head as he made his way through the Gamma suite. More giggling and shouting ricocheting around. He ran his hand through his hair, a tiny flicker of grey at his temples that he couldn’t deny his pups were giving him. He watched for a moment as Chris threw his four year old to Trey.

Chains: I got up this morning and got ready for my day but didn't know what I was doing anymore. Everyday it is the exact same thing everyday I get up take a shower and go to the diner to see her after that I head to the club. Nobody knows how I feel about her hell I don't even think she knows. I spend most of my time sitting at a booth watching her from afar. I always get put in her section and I just order my food that is it. There is no small talk because I'm afraid if I put myself out there I won't survive being hurt again. To put it mildly I'm terrified of her rejecting me.

I knew so well that I can't continue like this, I need peace I can't continue this way. S

Smart man. I tip the shot back. The rum burns clean and sweet, sliding down my throat like a promise it can’t keep. My chest feels tight, not from the alcohol, not yet, but from the ghost of that I*******m Live still playing on loop in my head. Chad’s voice, calm and cruel, saying “I can’t do this anymore” while 3,832 people watched me smile like an idiot, waiting for the ring. Three months. It’s only been three months.

Kai asked making the pack members cheer in the backdrop. “I’LL ANSWER,” Joy- the nerdiest but the funkiest sextuplet of them all replied. “UH HUH. GO ON. WE ARE CURIOUS,” Jax gave the go ahead and it seemed as if they were expecting a serious biological answer. “WHAT OTHER COLOR WERE YOU EXPECTING FROM A BLACK HEARTED CHAIN SMOKER ? PURPLE ? HAHAHAHA,” Joy answered and the pack members burst out laughing making me chuckle teasingly at Zorean too.

I had to tardily usher myself towards the very back end of the room passing an entire sea of drunk people grooving to the remix of Roses by The Chainsmokers. "What took you so long man?!!” Kenneth raged the moment I showed up to our table. He was sounding a bit more impatient but that’s so expected of him. He’s always been that one friend who just can’t live a day without fuming over something petty. “And where the hell’s our cigarette?" He followed up making his already loud voice even louder, the sharp fragrance of impatience lingered along with his tone.

I watched neon lights flicker against the rain-streaked windows, the reflections of people moving through the streets like ghosts. “Where are we going?” I finally asked. Damien was silent for a moment before answering. “Somewhere safe.” I almost laughed. Safe? That word had never meant anything to me. “You still don’t trust me,” he observed. “Should I?” I countered. He smirked but didn’t reply. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with flick of his silver lighter. The glow illuminated his face for a brief second, casting sharp shadows across his jawline.

They sang. Every corner of the realm shimmered with rebirth. Emily was not just a queen. She was a revolution wearing a crown. They brought Dama with them, holding his little hands in theirs as he toddled between them. The boy was growing quickly — bright-eyed and curious, asking questions about everything he saw. “Why do we burn the chains, Mama?” he asked one morning, his voice high and clear. Emily knelt down and brushed a lock of hair from his face. “Because chains should never touch the skin of the innocent. We burn them so they can never hurt anyone again.”

I stared at the screen for ten minutes, just breathing. I didn’t cry. I didn’t smile. I just… remembered. Remembered the nights I begged for that message and never got it. Remembered all the times I felt disposable, quieted, confused. And now that I was gone — now that I’d stopped chasing, stopped needing — he wanted to reach back out. Of course he did. That’s how it always works with people who only miss you when they can no longer control you. I showed the message to my friend.