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[daily-clace]

When his hands slid underneath her bra to cup her breasts, she gasped at the sensation, then nodded at him when he froze, his eyes questioning. Go on. He unsnapped the front and the bra fell open and for a moment he just froze, staring at her as if she shone like witchlight.

Then he bent his head again and the feel of his mouth on her breasts did make her scream. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but he reached up and pried it away. “I want to hear you,” he said, and it wasn’t a demand, but a low, prayerful yearning. She nodded and buried her hands in his hair.

City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

Who’s afraid of Well you

little old me? should be

[daily-clace]

I don't understand how there's people that don't like Jace Herondale, like be for real how can you not like a man that literally looks at his girfriend as if SHE WAS A MIRACLE PAINTED ACROSS THE FACE OF THE WORLD THAT HE COULD BARELY BELIVE IN!?!?!

HE LITERALLY ALWAYS LOOKS AT HER AS IF SHE WERE A SMALL MIRACLE, THE KIND THAT YOU KEEP CLOSE TO YOUR HEART !!!

He loves his woman like a mad man 😭😭❤️❤️❤️

@ God when’s my turn??? I need me one of those!!

[daily-clace]

“Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt,” she told him.

“I can’t help it. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain.”

“Your pain will be outer soon if you don’t get out of traffic. Are you trying to get run over by a cab?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We could never get a cab that easily in this neighborhood.”

City of Bones, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

A spray of water droplets made her look up. Jace was a few feet away, shaking out his hair. “I guess that makes me a year older than you,” he said. “I’m cradle-robbing.”

“Six months,” Clary corrected. “And you’re a Capricorn, huh? Stubborn, reckless, bends the rules—sounds about right.”

City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

She was clutching her sketchpad, her bright hair escaping out of its braids. He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn’t know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why.

City of Bones, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

I don't think I ever said my exact age in a post, but I have said stuff about my life, so now I'm curious 🧐

I think older followers will have a better idea but let's see what you all think 🤓

Obviously I'm gonna reveal the correct answer at the end 🤓

[daily-clace]

Hehe I love to do polls so bear with me 🫶🏻

[daily-clace]

More than anything else, she wished he was here. She had picked out the dress she was wearing tonight—pale gold and more fitted to her body than anything she usually wore—with the express hope that Jace would like it; now he wasn’t going to see her in it. That was a shallow thing to worry about, she knew; she’d go around dressed in a barrel for the rest of her life if it meant Jace would get better. Besides, he was always telling her she was beautiful, and he never complained about the fact that she mostly wore jeans and sneakers, but she had thought he would like this.

City of Fallen Angels, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

Clary stretched her body out, trying to line herself up with him, and saw his eyes darken as he watched her. Her wet underclothes clung to her body as Jace’s clung to his. She let her eyes roam over him, taking in what was familiar and what wasn’t: the flare of his shoulders, the curve of his waist, the scars on his skin … her gaze dipped lower …

He laughed, a low, dark rasp. “It’s a little unfair,” he said, breathlessly, “that you can tell how much I want this just by looking at me and I can’t tell the same thing about you.”

She shifted under him. Their bodies scraped together and his pulse jumped, his hands digging into the sand on either side of her. “Look at me,” she said.

His eyes had been half-lidded; he opened them wide now, and stared at her. There was hunger in his, a hot devouring hunger that would have frightened her if it had been anyone else but Jace. But it was Jace, and she trusted him. “Look at me,” she said, and his eyes raked her, adoring, devouring, swallowing, and her body felt as if burning liquid were surging through it everywhere his gaze touched. He dragged his eyes back up to her face: they fixed on her mouth. “I do want you,” she said. “I always have.” She kissed him, slow and hard. “I want to, if you do.”

City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

Jace stepped forward and took her hands, lifted them and kissed them quickly; she closed her eyes, feeling as if just a fraction of warmth and light had been returned to her.

“Warrior hands,” he said quietly, and let her go. She stared down at her fingers, trying to see what he saw. Her hands were just her hands, small and callused, stained with dirt and blood.

City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

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A post shared by 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚 (@roby.drawings)

[daily-clace]

Btw most of you said Jace would read all of the instructions and I agree 😂

Both are nerds and very competitive so I don’t know 😂 but Jace is very impatient…

[daily-clace]

Clary said nothing to this, because she had nothing to say. Beautiful. He’d called her beautiful. Nobody had ever called her that before, except her mother, which didn’t count. Mothers were required to think you were beautiful. She stared at him.

“We should probably go downstairs,” he said again. She was sure she was making him uncomfortable with the staring, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop.

City of Bones, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

Jace watched as Clary looked over and blew him a kiss, her red hair bouncing in its ponytail. She was so small—delicate, doll-like, he had thought once, before he’d learned how strong she was.

City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare

[daily-clace]

“Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he’d learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.”

Clary Fairchild:

[daily-clace]

A sudden ache of hatred for her father went through Clary. “Well, Valentine’s not here now.”

“Clary…,” Jace began, a warning note in his voice, but she’d already reached up and yanked one of the books out from the forbidden shelf, knocking it to the ground. It made a satisfying thump. “Clary!”

“Oh, come on.” She did it again, knocking another book down, and then another. Dust puffed up from their pages as they hit the floor. “You try.”

Jace looked at her for a moment, and then a half smile teased the corner of his mouth. Reaching up, he swept his arm along the shelf, knocking the rest of the books to the ground with a loud crash.

City Of Glass, Cassandra Clare