Clace: A History « jace and clary network
Jace's point of view of his first kiss with Clary I kissed your lips He had known Clary was brave the first time he'd met her — walking into that. Most will be about how Jace and Clary meet, and will probably be all-human At first, I saw nothing, but then a figure on a bike came speeding. Read Clary and Jace's First Meeting Through Jace's Eyes. from the story Clace randomness by BatmanEatsPizza with reads. one-shots, fanfiction.
Great minds think alike. Clary furrowed her brow, thinking. Izzy thought then snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. A stupid sixteenth birthday present convertible from his rich ass father. Horrid puke gold colour, but he would take a bullet for the thing.
She blushed when we fixed our stares on her, turning her skin a delicious pink. I licked my lips. If it's just three tires, insurance in this country won't pay for it.
After an hour or two of planning, our talking evolved into a game of grounders. Me and Clary started a sort of rivalry, being the two best at it. Iz kept shooting us funny looks. I knew that look. Great, she's going to try and set us up. Didn't matter anyway, I planned to beat her to the punch. Izzy and Clary then gave a demonstration of their kickboxing skills. Clary was clearly the best, but she explained that she had been taking martial arts since she was seven.
I was a boxer myself, and could tell that she was really good, and that her best defence was her speed.
jace and clary network
Izzy would throw a right hook and she would be gone, ducking in a nanosecond. It was a fun afternoon. Three days later, I was panting in an alley, my chest heaving after running away from the scene of the crime, the crime being the intense vandalism of the bastard's car.
Clary was breathing heavily next to me. Her breasts rising over the top of her low cut tank top every time she took a breath. Whoa, not helping to slow my breath. She smiled when I looked down at her, grinning like a fool. There was no denying it, I was falling hard for this girl, and I had known her only four days.
Iz and Alec had run the other way, confusing the fat guard who had yelled at us. I closed my eyes and tried to control my desire.
How Jace Met Clary Chapter 1: Only Three Tires, a mortal instruments fanfic | FanFiction
Turning, I pushed Clary against the wall and caught her lips with mine. She stilled in shock, but after a moment, responded with enthusiasm. I groaned and kissed her harder, pushing her further up the wall. Her hands went to my hair, pulling on the curls at my neck. I gasped and let my tongue touch her lips. To my surprise, her mouth opened and her tongue shot out, battling mine. We made out for a good five minutes, her pressed against the wall, both of us groaning into the other's mouth.
Eventually we disentangled ourselves, but I kept her pressed against the wall. We were both breathing heavily, and she seemed a bit wary, as if she thought I would just leave. I smiled down at her. I'm sorry about the abrupt make out session, but I have wanted to do that since you told us to only slash 3 tires, not 4, and quite frankly, you are just too irresistible for your own good.
I became nervous, what if she said no? It was a beautiful smile, full of happiness. I felt a swell of pride at being the one who had put that smile on her face.
Did you really think I would say no? I beamed at her and kissed her again. I could tell it would soon become my favourite activity. Six months later, I found myself panting in the same alley, but for entirely different reasons.
Clary was pushed against the wall again, her legs around my waist, tongue in my mouth and hands up my shirt. There was just one difference this time. We had actually dated before this make out session, for six months if you hadn't guessed. Latching my lips onto her neck, I felt the words I had been longing to say for a month try to escape my lips again.
But I just couldn't put myself out like that, even for Clary, who understood me like no other, who made me catch my breath every time she walked in the room.
Clace: The Journey of Clary and Jace So Far! - Shadowhunters | Freeform
Distracted by the creamy skin of her neck, I just barely noticed the words breathed over my ear. No, she couldn't have said that. It was just the wind, there was no way an angel like Clary could love someone like me.
Nonetheless, I raised my head to look at her face. Tears were shining in her beautiful green eyes, and her jaw was set. I was confused by the look on her face. It was almost defiant, but why — "I won't take it back.
Cassandra Clare shares full Greenhouse scene from Jace’s POV
I'll never take it back. But this girl, with her green eyes that pinned him like a butterfly, she was real. Like a voice heard in a dream, that you know comes from the waking world, she was real, piercing the distance he has set so carefully about himself like armor.
It would be strange. He cannot read her face. That it was accidental. That it made him feel like going to the training room and throwing knives, and kicking and punching and fighting shadows until he was bloody and exhausted and if his skin was flayed open, it was only in the way he was used to.
She just looks at him, quietly. The training room it is, then. Moonlight spears down through the glass panes of the greenhouse as they make their way out, Clary slightly in front of him. Something moves ahead of them — a white spark of light — and suddenly she stops short and half-turns to him, already in the circle of his arm, and she is warm and soft and delicate and he is kissing her.
And he is astonished. It is his instrument as much as the piano, and he has always been in perfect command of it. But she tastes sweet, like apples and copper, and her body in his arms is trembling.
She is so small; his arms go around her, to steady her, and he is lost. He understands now why kisses in movies are filmed the way they are, with the camera endlessly circling, circling: His palms smooth down her back.
He can feel her breathing against him; a gasp in between kisses. Her thin fingers are in his hair, on the back of his neck, tangling gently, and he remembers the medianox flower and the first time he saw it and thought: The rush of wind is audible to him first, trained as he is to hear it.
He draws back from Clary and sees Hugo, perched in the crook of a nearby dwarf cypress. His arms are still around Clary, her weight light against him. Her eyes are half-closed. It pricks his ego slightly. She wants to know if Hodge is spying on them. He reassures her, but he feels her soft laughter travel through their joined hands — how did that happen? He understands why people hold hands: It is about speaking without words. He wants her in his bedroom. And not in that way — no girl has ever been in his bedroom that way.
It is his private space, his sanctuary. But he wants Clary there. He wants her to see him, the reality of him, not the image he shows the world.
He wants to lie down on the bed with her and have her curl into him. He wants to hold her as she breathes softly through the night; to see her as no one else sees her: To see her and to be seen. There is a hollow in the pit of his stomach, a nervous edginess. He wants to pull her back to himself, to pour into her everything he is feeling: