I Write Sins Not Tragedies Song Novels & Stories

“I fear what it will demand of him, but I do not fear its truth. Better a truth that tears us apart than a lie that binds us in chains.” Sira’s hands shook as her light flared, her face pale with strain. “You speak as though truth and death are not the same, but look at what comes. If this is the first song, then it was written in blood, and it will be sung with blood again. Do you not see that every path leads only to ruin.”

I smirked at him and focused on other people and nodded my head to the musician to start the music. I began to tap my hand on the microphone to follow the tempo. And I sang: The world can be a nasty place, You know it, I know it, yeah, We don't have to fall from grace, Put down the weapons you fight with, Kill 'em with kindness, Kill 'em with kindness, Kill 'em, kill 'em, kill 'em with kindness, Kill 'em with kindness, Kill 'em with kindness, Go ahead, go ahead, go ahead now,

“They sing songs of regret. I do not think I have ever heard anything quite as beautiful, even the angels' choirs.” I listened to the simple melodies of the tinkling leaves. They almost seemed to be voices- deep baritone oaks, tenor pines, soprano birch. “Are they like this forever?” I said, pitying the lost souls. “Only until they have forgiven themselves. Suicide is no sin, Fianna. It is a tragedy, truly, but the depths of despair a person are in to commit the act are punishment enough.”

My problems, all my failures and frustrations were gone. The whole world was getting blurred as I heard Mark's roaring loudly in pain. " Raine,Raine," Ryan! " Do you still think I'm a joke," I stammered, wanting to know before hell took me away. I deserved that one painful truth. " No, you are an angel and your eyes feel like home when I look into them," he replied in a soft voice measured, as if he was trying to overcome a stutter, one filled with empathy and guilt.

“That's it, I want you to call my name like I'm the last choice left and you might die if I'm not Inside you that same way you drive me crazy and make me feel useless every fucking time.” I was tired of listening to him, I was desperately in need of Draven that I couldn't think of, it was far away from me to the extent that tears fell at the sides of my face. “Do you want that too or should I go on to ask you endless questions and tie your legs so I can whip that sexy ass of yours till it's red and puffy enough to bounce on my laps?” I shook my head repeatedly, eagerly and helplessly. That sounded like horror and fun at the same time, not able to do anything like this and stare at his face w

She was framing me as weak, careless, emotional, unreliable, so when he decided to punish me, it would look reasonable. So when he blamed me, it would sound natural. How in the goddess name did I not notice this before? Just as expected, Simon’s grip tightened. “This is the mess that you made so you will fix this,” he demanded. “You messed up and you embarrassed me. So you will fucking fix it or I swear...” “I didn’t embarrass you,” I answered. I had spent years accepting this treatment, telling myself that silence was loyalty and endurance was virtue. The thought made my jaw tighten. “And I didn’t make a mistake.”

But the sound of that door slamming keeps replaying in my skull. “I should’ve been faster,” I mutter, wiping my eyes quickly, angry at myself for crying when i should hold my head up. Father would be so disappointed to see me like this. Crying? In front of the enemy no less. Tristan’s jaw tightens—just slightly, but enough to tell me he disagrees. “This isn’t your fault,” he says again, quieter this time. Then he exhale—a measured, careful breath. “Ruby, I need you to trust me.”

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by my reaction. “Sin is like a brother to me,” he explained, leaning back slightly in his chair. “We grew up together. I know everything about him.” His gaze shifted toward me again. “And you…” he added, his tone more measured now, “you are special.” The word lingered. Soft yet strangely heavy. Am I special? Why? Sin… I frowned slightly, the name echoing in my mind. “Why do people call him that?” I asked slowly. “Sin…” Gregori studied me for a moment as if deciding something, weighing how much I should know.

"I was wrong. Completely wrong. I own that." "Owning it doesn't fix it." "I know. But I want to try. To fix it. To earn back your trust." He laughed. Bitter. Hollow. "You can't earn back trust. It's not currency." "Then what is it?" "A gift. That you threw away." Tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." "I know you are. But sorry doesn't change what you did." He moved toward the door. Opening it.

"That's what I'm doing, aren't I?" "No," I shook my head, "...not there, please. My cunt. Fill me up. Stuff me with your dick, I beg you, Daddy. Have mercy on me," "Be patient, little slut," he told me, an impish grin spreading his lips. Oh god, I've really shot myself in the foot.