slow dancing in a burn

lovely ; songs i listen to when i’m so full of love that i feel like i could burst.

1. cherry wine - hozier // 2. nothing - lewis watson // 3. you - keaton henson // 4. only love - ben howard // 5. holocene- bon iver // 6. slow dancing in a burning room - john mayer // 7. bones - ben howard // 8. work song - hozier // 9. sweetheart, what have you done to us? - keaton henson // 10. stay - lewis watson // 11. from afar - vance joy // 12. first day of my life - bright eyes // 13. we all die trying to get it right - vance joy // 14. latch (acoustic) - sam smith // 15. cough syrup - young the giant // 16. for emma - bon iver // 17. we found each other in the dark - city and colour // 18.  make it to me (stripped) - sam smith // 19. skinny love (cover) - ed sheeran // 20. let it go - james bay // 21. tenerife sea - ed sheeran // 22. your body is a wonderland - john mayer // 23. hold back the river - james bay

The signs as relationship goals

*check Venus sign*

Aries: every day an adventure but always returning home

Taurus: endless tv nights and cuddling

Gemini: wild discussions and wild surprises

Cancer: deep talks and slow dances

Leo: dinner parties and burning love

Virgo: partners in crime and a laungauge without words

Libra: traveling the world and sunset kisses

Scorpio: rainy days spent with music and desire

Sagittarius: festivals and concerts spent with tears of joy

Capricorn: rough discussions and soft touches

Aquarius: funny dates and ever growing love

Pisces: shared lives and tender kisses

falling for you was like
slow dancing with a tornado
speeding faster and faster
no return, no ways to burn

falling for you was like
winter blankets of darkness
and i felt warm in the middle
of a mad mad snowstorm

—  tina jaxén // falling for you was like…

all the way {listen}

the death star was pulsing with emerald light. jyn tried not to tense. she wasn’t afraid of what would happen, but she didn’t want to suffer. somehow she found herself closer to cassian than before. her breathing matched his, or his matched hers, deep and steady.

01. there is a light that never goes out - the smiths | 02. wish that you were here - florence + the machine | 03. neutron star collision - muse | 04. signal fire - snow patrol | 05. say it right - angus and julia stone | 06. in these arms - swell season | 07. human - gabrielle aplin | 08. slow dancing in a burning room - michael henry and justin robinett | 09. starlight - muse | 10. kingdom come - the civil war | 11. i will follow you into the dark - gavin mikhail | 12. in a week - hozier ft. karen cowley

bonus track: dyin’ ain’t so bad - laura osnes


“It would be easy if I hated you.”  Ray announces with as much passion as she would if she was simply reading off a grocery list.

“Splitting someone into fourth’s isn’t usually what I think of affection.”  Zarc drawls, not even opening his eyes.  So far his nap ranks higher than whatever weird, halfhearted apology she intends to give.

“Pfft, it doesn’t take hate to simply want to protect your world.  If I had really hated you I would have stopped you earlier.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for delaying my demise?”

“Look, does it hurt to just let me talk?”  He feels a sudden weight on his stomach now, and he can’t help but open his eyes long enough to spy that Ray has decided his stomach apparently makes a good pillow.  “I just feel like I’m always chasing you.  For better or worse, I can never stop.”

He wants to scoff because he’s the one who’s first chased her back in the original dimension.  Then he had only dreamed of one day being able to duel on her level as rivals.  In hindsight he almost wonders if it was always fate that they would become archenemies like this.

“What do you plan to do when you catch me?”  He skims his hand across her the thin bit of skin her shirt leaves exposed.

“I don’t know,”  Before he can draw back his hand, she grabs it and begins toying with each finger one by one.  “Maybe shake some sense into you?  Try to get you to stop being so myopic.  I used to think we had a chance to go back to how things were before.  That we could be…”


The word hangs heavy in the air, but neither of them dare to say it.  If they named it, what little joy they had managed to recover would fly away from their reach as they plunged into the same cycle over and over again.

“Pfft, you’re not much better than a dog going after their own tail.”  Despite his harsh words, Zarc’s touch is feather-light.

They’re not sure what to exactly call this.  Neither has offered nor accepted any form of forgiveness or redemption.  Still in this dreamy sort of purgatory they share, it is difficult to hold onto those intense, negative feelings.

 Maybe they’re doomed to always face each other at some point or another.  Maybe this is just a short break before the fighting begins once more.  Even so, Zarc can’t help but muse that he’d be fine to have her chase him until the end of time itself.

reasons the malec kiss slays me, a non-watcher who maybe seen 3 shadowhunters gifs ever
  • dramatic music build that got that Flutter going in my stomach
    • OOOOOO, OOOOO-OOOO-OO i love dying and being dea d
  • that fANTASTIC EXPRESSION magnus makes when he walks in, like “i’m not hopeful, but i’m offering everything– i had to try because it’s you
  • a straight solid 15 seconds of pre-kiss eye contact
    • alec’s “literally god himself could not stop me from reaching you” focus, aka visual blowjob
    • magnus’s “i don’t know what you’re about to do but literally god himself could not get me out of your way” expression
  • the reaction shots!!! how long were these assholes dancing around each other to produce these 100K Fanfic Slow Burn Kiss Ending ™ looks @ the guy’s wedding to another person?? fuck me
  • or the bride’s “trying to be happy for you but my heart is in pieces” eyelid flicker– slay my entire ass
    • magnus following but immediately respecting the pause :’)
  • like idk what this storyline has been but to me that’s an “i need you to know that i’m aware of how much this changes, and that i mean everything that this implies” pause
    • “i need to have eyesex w/ u for a quick second so u know i want to make eye-tender-love to u many times in the future”
  • where do u think magnus’s hands are?? alec’s waist (under the suit coat or over it??? is he gripping almost too hard)?? alec’s forearms, so that even if alec lets go of the lapels he won’t go too far?? bELT LOOPS???
    • FUCK
  • the music getting JUST LOW ENOUGH for me to hear the breathing
  • the Wow Sure Am Out Of Breath After That Pining Marathon breathing
  • footage of this show i have seen: this specific 3-minute scene
  • number of times i have watched it: at least 28
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

*A/N So I was listening to slow dancing in a burning room by John mayor when I wrote this. I completely had it set that I was going to have a sad ending but it didn’t feel right so yeah hope you enjoy
-Xoxo Madison*

Simon wrapped his arms tight around the girl in front of him. Moving his feet slowly to the beat of the music. He couldn’t help but look down at her with a sad smile. Because he knew what was coming. All night she had avoided direct eye contact with him. He didn’t blame her though. Things between them just weren’t the same. They weren’t as passionate towards each other anymore. The stress of her uni and his YouTube it was only a matter of time before they cracked under the pressure. Pulling slightly out of his arms she looked up at him with watery eyes.
“Si.” She whispered and he didn’t miss the slight whimper in her voice. Shaking his head he shushed her and pulled her back into his arms kissing the top of her head.
“Dance with me one last time my love.” He whispered pressing a gentle kiss on top of her head. She nodded her head as a tear streaked from her eye and landed on simons shirt.
He remembered the first time he ever held her in his arms like this.
“Hey” Y/n said brightly smiling up at Simon from her post beside the punch table. “Hey” Simon said back a slight blush blooming on his cheeks . “Are you having fun?” He asked nervously
“I mean I came without a date and every song has been a slow one so I haven’t even danced once but sure.” It was Y/n’s turn to blush. She wasn’t sure why she had said that he probably thought she was the biggest loser.
“Well you’re lucky because I didn’t bring a date either, I happen to believe everyone should slow dance at least once at their prom” He offered her his hand and hesitantly she took it. The pair silently swayed back and forth. “I never imagined my freshmen year I would be slow dancing with The Simon Minter at my senior prom” Y/n mockingly broke the silence. “Well lucky you huh” Simon cheekily replied. Y/n threw her head back laughing and Simon couldn’t help but realize the girl who had sat beside him in math for the past 4 years resembled an angle. He was so in awe he couldn’t help but take a hand off her waist and softly caress her cheek. Y/n felt her breathe get caught in her chest and her eyes were glued to the baby blue ones in front of her. Leaning forward Simon crashed his lips onto hers and Y/n didn’t hesitate a single second before kissing back.
Back in the present Simon could feel his last few seconds ticking away and he felt slightly panicked. He couldn’t let her go. She was the one. She was it. She was all he wanted and all he needed and he couldn’t let her walk away from him. He opened his mouth to tell her exactly that. But then he slowly got flashbacks of all the fights they had gotten into, all the insults and hurt feelings and he knew not to say any of that. Especially after their last fight where she admitted to thinking about ending their relationship. When they met tonight for the first time since the fight they had a week ago he knew instantly she made up her mind. Simon heard the last few chords of the song playing and he pulled her in even closer. He knew he couldn’t hold her back anymore. She deserved so much more than him and she’d never find it waiting around for him. Kissing her forehead one last time Simon loosened his grip and Y/n wiggled out and met his gaze and finally spoke what needed to said. “ I hope you know that I came here to end things with you because I hate you so much.I hate the fact that I’ve spent the past couple of years with you and you made them so perfect. I hate the fact that You made me fall in love with you in so many different ways. I hate the fact that you made me realize you’re the only one for me. I hate the fact that you did all that only to completely destroy my heart by ignoring me. I especially hate that fact that to you everything and everyone is second to YouTube. But, what I hate the most is that fact that I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. In fact I’m completely head over heels in love with you and because of that I realize I can’t leave you, leave this, leave us. And we may be slow dancing in a burning room right now but Simon I’m gonna slow dance with you until I get burnt.”


we’re going down, and you know that we’re doomed. my dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room - A Mor/Nesta Fic

This pairing has consumed and ruined me and I have…absolutely no regrets whatsoever it’s amazing. Join me in femslash heaven ladies and gentlemen. From an anonymous prompt for Mor/Nesta and ‘dancing’ (plus another thing which I am going to write but this got long enough that I decided to format and post it properly) 

Title:  Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

Summary: Mor coaxes Nesta to come to Rita’s with her but has to employ all of her charm and powers of persuasion to encourage her into a dance. Established Mor/Nesta; mixed POV, slightly NSFW. 

Teaser: Letting out a long breath, Mor folds her arms and rests her chin on them, peering up at Nesta with her best, huge, irresistible begging eyes. The kind that would have anyone pleading to do her bidding just to make her stop looking at them like that, the kind that no-one can ever possibly say- 

“No,” Nesta says flatly, without looking up from the book she appears to be attempting to read by the dim lighting of Rita’s. Amren smirks. Mor scowls.  

Link: AO3 

Mor collapses in a happy heap beside Nesta who raises an eyebrow at her over the rim of her glass that she’s delicately sipping. Amren sits opposite her and the two of them seem to be engaged in one of their typical comfortable silence sessions, which have been known to last hours. 

Glancing out over the dancers, Mor’s eyes linger on the couples she recognises. Feyre and Rhys are slow dancing on the fringes of the dancefloor, not in any proper hold, simply embracing, their lips meeting gently every few moments. Elain and Lucien are in the centre of the dancers and Elain is giggling as she stands on Lucien’s toes and allows him to steer. Cass and Azriel are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared to somewhere more private some time ago. 

Letting out a long breath, Mor folds her arms and rests her chin on them, peering up at Nesta with her best, huge, irresistible begging eyes. The kind that would have anyone pleading to do her bidding just to make her stop looking at them like that, the kind that no-one can ever possibly say- 

“No,” Nesta says flatly, without looking up from the book she appears to be attempting to read by the dim lighting of Rita’s. Amren smirks. Mor scowls. 

“Please?” Mor asks, shifting in closer to her wife and nuzzling affectionately against her neck the way she likes. 

“No.” Nesta repeats, very pointedly turning a page and just as pointedly not looking into Mor’s wide, pleading eyes.

 Amren gets up, giving Mor a smirk that very patently says ‘good luck’ before she slips off to the bar to get herself another drink, and flirt with the attractive female serving them, leaving the two of them alone together.  

“Come on, Nes,” she wheedles, setting her lip in a pronounced, miserable pout. 

“No,” Nesta says again, exhaling a long-suffering sigh this time, her eyes moving down over the page of her book but Mor is quite sure she stopped really reading the moment she got there. “You know the rule,” she says, “No dancing.” 

Mor groans and resists the urge to point out, for the thousandth time, that coming to a dance club with a rule of ‘no dancing’ is stupid. She settles instead for flopping onto the table in an outpouring of dramatic misery, head in her hands as she whines pathetically in mock agony at the stubbornness of her wife. Nesta responds by propping her book on top of Mor’s back and continuing to pretend to read with a broad smirk on her face. 

Mor growls at that and moves blindingly fast, snatching the book from her hands and tossing it onto the bench beside them, dipping in to kiss Nesta. Nesta however avoids the kiss, grumbling indignantly, “You lost my page, Mor.” 

“I’ll find it for you again later,” Mor promises, voice low and sultry as she takes Nesta’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and tilts her face back towards hers. 

Those beautiful, glittering ice blue eyes meet hers and this time Nesta allows the kiss. Mor takes her time, slow and deep and reverent. Even though they’ve been married for decades now and all of Velaris knows it, Nesta is rarely comfortable with being physically open in public. Which for the most part Mor doesn’t mind. But one of the things she particularly loves about Rita’s is that, nestled in their booth in this dark, quiet corner, she’s free to kiss Nesta as much as she likes. 

She can also slide her hand slowly up Nesta’s thigh until it’s slipping beneath her dress and wandering higher still. Nesta breaks the kiss, gasping, “Mor-” she begins, her voice a low groan, catching her wrist and stopping her. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” she interrupts quietly, voice low and rough. It’s a stunning dress, a deep, blood red, clean cut lines with black outlining and defining the sharp edges. The slit that bites deeply into it, travelling high up her wife’s legs is appealing as well. 

Nesta releases her wrist and Mor smirks and purrs in approval at being given permission to continue her exploration. She rests her head on her shoulder, eyes closing as she nuzzles at her neck, breathing her scent in deeply and savouring it. “Rules are made to be broken, love,” she murmurs in her ear, “One dance, one song. I’ll make it very worth-“ she breaks off with a low hiss of breath as her fingers travel higher still, Nesta’s thighs parting slightly beneath the table to allow her access, and she realises she’s not wearing any underwear.

Mor pulls back to look into her eyes, her own wide and tinged with the hunger that’s surged within her. “You were saying?” Nesta prompts, raising an eyebrow. Though she tries to suppress it a thin smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth as she looks at Mor.

Mor’s voice drops into a low, thrumming purr as she leans in and presses her lips against Nesta’s, pressing her next words into her mouth, “I love you.”


Smiling, Nesta kisses Mor again, more deeply this time, letting her ease herself forwards until she’s half in her lap and half on the chair, fingers plunging deeply into her hair. Breathing hard, Nesta answers her wife’s words by slipping lithely out of the booth and extending her hand in invitation for Mor to join her.

Beaming, her smile bright enough to light up the dim room around them Mor eagerly slips her fingers into hers and allows her to gently draw her to her feet and lead her towards the dance floor, trailing reverently behind her, going where she leads them.

Nesta knows that Mor loves being in the centre of the crowd, in the thick of the dancers, her body moving without thought in perfect sync with those around her, weaving in and out of all of them as though she was made for those. She comes truly alive when music plays in a darkened room and she can just close her eyes and lose herself in it and the press of people around it. But Nesta is never that comfortable surrounded by a dense crowd of shifting bodies and she halts on the fringes and firmly stops in place, pulling Mor in against her.

The radiant smile on Mor’s face doesn’t falter at all, she just sweeps her arms around Nesta and tugs her in against her, following the last, rapid, pulsing beats of the song as her body instinctively moves with them. This has never failed to mesmerise her, in all their time together, she’s always loved watching the way her lover’s body moves to music. It seems as though it sings to her blood, as though it slips inside her and takes control of her and she lets it, lets it carry her away. Nesta has never been able to find that herself, though her appreciation has grown since her stiff, irritable lessons as a girl, thanks to Mor. But she will never stop being in love with the pure happiness and joy that blazes from her wife when they dance together.  

The song ends and Mor opens her eyes and looks questioningly at Nesta, who simply hums gently and remains in hold, sloppy as it is, more adequately described as cuddling than a true hold but it does what it needs to. Mor smiles at her again, dipping down for a quick kiss just before the next one starts.

This one is different to the last which was upbeat and lively. This song begins with notes that are drawn out and echo through her bones longer than they have any right to, drawn from the instruments they belong to as if by a lover, coaxed out with deep, startling intensity. The smile that spreads across Mor’s face is slow and rich, marble wrapped in smooth velvet and Nesta watches every movement she makes as though she means to memorise every detail in order to have Feyre paint this moment later on.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, despite the fact they’re on the very edge of the room, shrouded in protective shadows, Nesta burrows in against Mor, closing her eyes and breathing in her wife’s scent. The rich blend of cinnamon and citrus and the undercurrent of the cherry shampoo she likes is familiar to her as the sound of her own name and it always soothes her. She lets it flood her senses, drowning out everything but Mor, the heat of her skin against hers, the feel of their bodies melding together, her hands on her hips, slowly moving her in time with the music.

The song lifts into a chorus and Nesta looks up at Mor and a moment later her lips are on hers and she’s kissing her between the light pulses that flash across them for only a second before bathing them into an even darkness that seems deeper and blacker for the intense flash of light that came before it.

When she draws away from the kiss, Nesta turns Mor and presses her back against her, holding her close, any whisper of space that might have been left between them gone completely now. The music mixed with her wife’s scent is intoxicating and she just wants to live in this moment, to let it move through her and consume her and Mor until there’s only them. Mor pauses in her arms, a little stunned by the sudden change of pace but she sinks into it almost at once.

Her hands wander slowly over Mor’s sides, pulling her closer still, unable to stop exploring every inch of her body she can reach. The music swells around them, consuming every couple on the floor and that sweeps them away as well. As though they’re all caught in a river’s current, the music bears them along with it, making them rise and fall as it does, every movement striking the inescapable beat which pounds beneath the melody.

“You’re incredible,” Mor groans as Nesta leans down to softly nuzzle at her neck.

Nesta just smirks at that, “I know,” she purrs and Mor looses a slightly breathless laugh in response. A laugh that is bitten off into a sharp gasp as Nesta’s wandering hands find skin beneath the silk of her dress.

She loves this dress, the way it clings to her wife’s curves, shaping her and defining her while at the same time drenching her in elegance and mystery. The way the fabric moves with her body makes it impossible to pin her down, impossible to find any solid edge to catch a hold of. Her wife is molten, liquid that flows where and as it will, free as smoke that can never be caught or held against its will. Except for her. Her wife. For her alone she will be fixed and permanent and hers.

The thing she loves most about this dress though is how obliging the material is when her fingers find the slit in the thigh. It parts with a delight invitation, coaxing her to explore further, urging her hands to seek the warm, smooth skin they seek. “Nes-“ Mor begins hoarsely, her eyes closing as she leans back more firmly against her body, allowing her to support a little more of her weight as her legs tremble in anticipation.

Nesta huffs a soft breath against her skin when she finds a lace barrier blocking her path. “That won’t do,” she murmurs, easing the thin fabric aside to ease between Mor’s folds. Mor gasps, her head resting against Nesta’s shoulder, her eyes closed, her lips slightly part as a faint, delicious whine spreads through them both.

“Nes,” Mor groans in warning, gesturing around at the crowded dance floor but she just laughs darkly and continues with what she’s doing. She picked her spot well and she knew that Mor has been desperate for her, has been able to scent the faint tang of her arousal since she discovered her lack of undergarments in their booth and she can’t resist her. The music has built to a shattering crescendo and no-one is watching the way their bodies move, closer than any other couple, each person has eyes only for their partner and all Nesta can do is watch Mor as her eyes flutter open and reveal the pupils that have burst wide, split open to spill into the rich caramel gold that usually fills her gaze by lust and hunger.

The last note of the song echoes through the hall along with the applause and together they mask the moan that Nesta swallows with delight as her teasing becomes more intense to the point that she can’t control herself any longer.  

As the song ends Mor’s eyes flash and glitter with wicked hunger and she grabs Nesta’s wrist, tugging her hand away from where it still wanders between her legs. With a rough snarl that sends any in their way skittering out of her path, Mor takes Nesta’s hand and drags her towards the back of the room, pushing her back into a shadowed alcove, her eyes consumed by her need for her.


Pressing her against the smooth dark wood of the wall with her body Mor braces both hands above Nesta’s head pinning her down, blocking her from view of any that might pass this secluded spot. Mor tilts her head slightly to one side, studying her, the untamed hunger that shines in those stunning blue-gray eyes, the devilish little smirk that tugs at her lips and she lets out a low hiss.

“You planned this,” she says slowly, softly and she doesn’t fail to note the triumph that flashes in her wife’s eyes at that.

Mor growls low, leaning in and tilting Nesta’s chin up, giving her access to her throat which she begins to kiss. Slowly, trailing a tender necklace of kisses across it, sucking on all the right spots, biting at the soft skin until Nesta’s hands grab her hips and jolt her body harder against hers, she marvel’s at her wife’s cunning.

“Agreeing to come with me tonight,” she says, nibbling gently at Nesta’s ear. “Bringing that damned book and sitting with Amren all night,” she says, her voice lowering to a growl as one hand slips from the wall and starts pushing the skirt of Nesta’s dress out of her way. “Ignoring me,” she says, this a definite snarl. “Making me work all night to get your attention, pretending you weren’t interested and all this time…”

Her fingers find their mark, sliding between Nesta’s slick folds and it’s an effort to remain standing, an effort not to groan as she feels how wet she is. “All this time,” she repeats, struggling to find the thread of her conversation again as her self control slips. She compensates by making slow circles at Nesta’s centre, not quite where she wants her but enough to make her gasp and bite back a moan. “You were planning this, knowing this would drive me insane, that as soon as I felt this,” she drags her finger slowly through the wetness pooled between her thighs to emphasise her point and Nesta whimpers.

Leaning down again, Mor presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck, biting down a little harder than before and causing Nesta to whimper. “You filthy little-“

Nesta cuts her off with a rough kiss, burying her hand in Mor’s thick golden hair and pulling her hard against her. Her lips part for her tongue and Mor can’t help the faint whimper that she presses into her mouth, her arms going slack, falling away from her as she lets herself sink in to the kiss.

“You love it,” Nesta purrs in her ear and Mor snaps.

Grabbing Nesta and pulling her hard against her she winnows them home. They vanish into nothingness as one, their beings blending together as they’re consumed by mist and smoke and they reform in their bedroom. Mor’s lips find Nesta’s once more as they allow themselves to fall, tumbling from empty space and onto their bed in a confused tangle of soft silk sheets and wicked laughter.