A guest left this on Z is for Zymotic and I hope you see thissss: "Hey you're the best. Best. Best. Best. So this sounds weird but I feel like I know you so well, you have this way of pouring out your entire soul into a single sentence. I feel like were best friend:):) You are an amazing writer and a person that I wish I could talk to on an everyday basis." You are so freaking sweet and I love you so hard right now. Seriously, make an account or contact me of any of the things listed on my profile (or my email is ashbuckley at ymail dot com) and I will straight up talk to you about anything any time and we can be friends. I would be so pumped to hear from you, you don't even know. I need this friendship to happen. :)

Trish: Can I just say that you have the same name as my mom and I love you for always being supportive and never rushing me. You rock so hard. (Hugs)

Imnotrude: Ah, to be 13 again.

Now, more importantly: Every now and then my brother or his friend, Auto, just look at me and say "I care about you." And you don't know how many feels I'm filled with. So, I just want to say that I care about you guys. (SEE I CAN BE NICE AND I AM NOT A "DIVA" lmao)


When I was 6 I would think up presidential-worthy speeches that I could give to the country and to the world and recite them to the glow-in-the-dark animal stickers that were on my ceiling. So I mean, goals right?

As I got older, I found myself planning out conversations so I would always know what I wanted to say. I do not like losing control. But as I walk into Jace's house, I'm drawing a blank. I don't know what I'll say to him.

When I enter his room he's got his head down in his hands. I take in his rumpled clothing and his messy hair. He's obviously run his hand through it over and over.

"I hate the way he talks about you when you're not around," Jace mutters

"How's that?" I ask.

Jace shakes his head. "The way he says your name, the way he smiles when you walk in, like he doesn't see anyone but you. It's sickening."

"Why would that be sickening?" I demand.

"Because Jonathan feels a fraction of what I do, but he has you and I don't," he spits and I'm stunned into silence. "I'm in love with you, Clary. I've always been in love with you."

"You're my best friend, Jace," I whisper to the floor. "Don't do this."

"Clary." Jace sighs. "I know you don't love me. I just thought you should know."

I stare at him, because what else can I do? I guess I always knew, but never admit it to myself. And I don't know how I feel about Jace. I never entertained the idea, because it always seemed like such a far cry from reality, but here it is and I'm terrified. How do you look at your best friend and tell him that you don't actually know how you feel about him? Could I love Jace? Probably. Do I? I don't fucking know.

"I don't know what to say," is the best reply I can muster.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm just sorry."

I shake my head. "I'm not mad at you. You're the only real best friend I've ever had, and I can't lose you." The look on his face is the same look my mother gives me when I've done something wrong. The feeling of failure is familiar. I wish I could be what he wants.

"You won't loose me."


It's 3 in the morning and I am totally wigged about the fact that my name is Clary. Like... what a weird name. Clarissa. Clary. Wierd.

I roll over in bed, pulling the blanket over my head. I haven't been able to sleep since my conversation with Jace. What am I supposed to do? I don't want to hurt him, but I'm not going to be with him. Not now, at least.

I think of us talking. Why can't we just be talking? No more of him trying to unwind me, and no more ignoring his hints. No more lying to ourselves, telling ourselves that things will be fine. The memory of what he did with his hands in the pool makes my heart speed up and my breathing irregular. That isn't love, though. I'm not in love with Jace. What happened in the pool was lustful.

I'm not sure that either of us know the difference between the two.


It's Christmas morning. We're spending the majority of the day with our parents, and then Jon and I are going on our date at 7 PM.

My mother runs around the house cooking, while Valentine stares at Jonathan and I. "How long has this been going on?" he asks casually.

Jon and I are seated on the couch, the silver lighting from the Christmas tree making him looking intimidatingly handsome. He shrugs. "A few days."

Valentine nods stiffly. "Use a condom," he says. "And make sure Jocelyn doesn't catch you. She has suspicion, and she doesn't like it."

I put my face in my hands and Jon chokes on his eggnog. "Dad, we're not—" he cuts himself off. "We haven't had sex." Yet.

"Oh," Valentine says. "Well, be careful." Then he leaves the room.


The day goes by slowly. Mom and Valentine insist on opening gifts around the tree and eating dinner around the table. I gave Jon leather a notebook with "Bone Daddy" engraved on the cover and a picture of us sketched onto the inside cover. He gave me a FUCKING MANNEQUIN wearing a shirt that says, "How much dub would Dubstep step if Dubstep could step dub," and I am in love with it.

Jon and I leave at 7 to go on our date. I have no idea what he has planned on Christmas Day, but I'm looking forward to it. And I'm especially looking forward to what we plan to do afterwards.

"What are we going to do? It's Christmas," I say, as we drive down the highway.

"I am aware of that," Jon says with a smile. "I have a plan."

"What is it?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I hope you have good balance."

"Ice skating?"

Jonathan nods. "Do you know how?"

"I didn't bring my skates."

He smirks. "I bought you new ones." He pulls off to the side of the road, and reaches into the back seat, pulling out a pair of size 6 maroon ice skates with grey laces. There's a piece of paper sticking out of one of them.

I pull the sheet if college ruled paper out of the skate and unfold it. "Can I read this now, or do you want me to wait?"

Jon pulls back out onto the road and continues driving. "You can read it. Don't laugh."

For Clary.

"Even the Sky Screams Sometimes"

From day one, I was brewing

hurricanes with my tongue

until I'd molded you into poetry.

Words leak from your lips

and drench me in blissful truth.

I fell far too fast,

and the moment you opened my ribcage

I was hit with a thunderstorm of you.

Oh. My. God.

"Jon... I don't even know what to say."

He bites his lip. "You don't have to say anything."

"It's beautiful." I breathe the words. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it." Jon pulls into the ice rink and opens the door for me. I take his hand and he leads me inside where we put on our ice skates and glide out onto the ice. There's no one else here, which isn't really surprising on Christmas.

We hold hands while we skate around the rink. He sneaks sideways glances at me and I smile up at him. "This is nice."

"I would have taken you to dinner or something, but it's Christmas and everything is closed."

I skate in a circle around him. "I like skating."

Jon smiles and drifts to a stop, pulling me into his arms. "I'm glad."

"So am I. And I really like the poem."

"Really?" He sounds genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," I tell him. "You're really good."

He grins and we lapse again into silence as we circle the rink over and over again.


I sit at the kitchen table. It's 10 PM and our parents are asleep. Jonathan sets a mug of hot chocolate in front of me, followed by a plate of waffles. "Jon!" I exclaim. "You totally kick ass!"

He drizzles chocolate sauce across the top, spelling out, "Clary." I grin and take a sip of my hot chocolate. Best. Date. Ever. Well, my only date ever, but still. I'm sure it's also the best.

We drink our hot chocolate and eat our waffles, occasionally making conversation, but I'm nervous. We're going to have sex, soon. What if I do something wrong and he doesn't like me anymore? Will it hurt?

"What's wrong?" Jon asks as we put our dishes in the dishwasher. "We don't have to have sex if you don't want to. You know that, right?"

"I want to," I blurt. "I'm just nervous."

He steps closer, placing his hands on my hips. "We can stop any time you want."

I take my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. "My room or yours?"

Jonathan grins. "Whatever you want."

I lead him up to my bedroom, locking the door behind us and then we're kissing, our hands flying all over each other's bodies. He lets out a throaty groan when I crab him through his jeans. "Clary," he whispers. I tug his shirt over his head, and he helps me out of mine. His eyes glide across my chest, a small smile playing on his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I say automatically. He leans forward, kissing my neck. I sigh, pulling him closer, letting him know that I want him to keep going. I wiggle out of my jeans while he contributes to nip at my neck. I reach for his jeans and he chuckles. "Take them off," I demand. I've been waiting for this for far too long.

Jon pushes me onto the bed and I laugh at the clumsiness when his pants get caught on his feet. "I'm trying to be sexy, don't laugh," he complains.

I smile. "You are sexy."

"You are sexy," he says as he moves to hover over me. Placing a kiss in the valley of my breasts, he grabs the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs. Following suit, I pull his boxers down and remove my bra.

"Here we are..." I say awkwardly.

Jonathan laughs. "Here we are," he repeats. "Can I..." He slips his hand between my legs. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," I reply and take him in my hands, pumping him a few times. I have no idea how to do this.

I become increasingly frustrated as our hips grind together and we explore every inch of each other's mouths. We continue to touch each other until I can't wait any longer. My hips buck and I ask, "Do you have a condom?"

Jon nods and leaps off the bed to find his jeans. He joins me again seconds later, foil package in hand. "You're sure?" he asks one more time.

I nod and pull him down on top of me. "I want to."

I hear the package being torn open and John lowers himself back on me a moment later. His eyes never leave mine as he lines himself up with me and begins to push his hips forward. There's a sharp pinching feeling but otherwise it's not terrible. "Are you okay?" he asks, when he's fully inside me. I nod, not trusting my voice. "Tell me when you want me to move."

We just lay there for a moment, waiting for the pain to lessen. When I think I can handle it, I begin moving my hips up and down. Jon gasps, letting his head drop onto my shoulder. He slowly moves his hips back and then pushes into me again. It doesn't really hurt, but it doesn't feel good either. It's just kind of happening. But I like the weight and the heat of his body against mine, and how smooth his skin feels beneath my fingertips.

His mouth falls open, tugging his lip between his teeth with his eyes closed. "Can I go faster?"

"Yes," I answer.

Jonathan quickens his pace and it starts to feel more pleasurable. Each thrust feels better than the last until the next thing I know, I'm panting into his neck, and thrusting back forcefully. "Am I hurting you?" he asks.

"No," I answer. "It's nice."

Jon lock eyes with me and in his iris' I see so much more than he could ever tell me. I am swallowed whole by the affection in his expression. "It's nice?"

I nod, pushing my hips toward his. He responds in kind, plunging into me. I gasp at the sensation, letting my head sink further into the pillow. "Yup!" I answer, biting down on my lip. "Yup, yup, yup."

Jonathan laughs. "You're so awkward. I love it."

"I am not awkward!"

"You just said yup repeatedly during sex, Clary." ... He makes a valid point. God, Clary, contain your autism. Wait. That's not funny. I shouldn't joke about autism. I shouldn't be thinking about autism during sexy time.

Jon puts his hands in my hair and snaps his hips toward mine. My hands grip the back of his neck while my hips grind in closer. I need more. His mouth meets mine and his movements quicken. Our tongues flick over each other as his hands make their way into my hair and we sigh in unison. We slip off into the night with two hands, soft but firm, answering my prayers.


GUYS. I AM SO SORRY THAT IT HAS BEEN SO LONG. Happy Christmas and happy New Year. I love you all. Tell me what you did for New Years/What you got for Christmas? I don't know. Live your life. Talk to me.

-IWriteNaked