#zayne wasn't Supposed to hit him in the face but i put a lil something on jay's jaw when drawing so... who am i to deny?

[b0amagination]

Home Is Where The Fanart Is

Happy Fanuary! What's Fanuary, you ask? It's my own little excuse to draw some very long overdue art for my friends, and develop better style with lineart at the same time!

Without further ado, I started with an author whose work captivates me in a truly indescribable way. It would be truly terrifying to a hacker to see how often I'm on her blog rereading an old favorite or an entire story. I will never be able to find the words to explain the magic of her storytelling, but I sure try my damndest every time.

Kirsten @whumblr 's Zayne and Jay of HIWTHI have had a deathgrip on my soul since the first chapter back in 2020 and, though I've drawn them before, once was never going to be enough.

And, well, maybe I figured out the plot of this interaction and impulsively wrote fanfiction. At the end of the cut are a few bonus detail shots as well <3

Content warnings: Belting, forced stripping (partial, not sexual), and canon-typical home invasion.

~~~

“Aren’t you tired of this old song and dance?” Zayne flashed him an unimpressed look, then glanced down at his own outstretched hand. Still empty. 

“I am. Glad you finally agree,” he huffed and brushed past, only to be caught by the collar of his button down. The grip tightened and pulled him, stumbling, face to face with his unwelcome visitor. His eyes cast down. 

“Then why is that belt still around your waist?” 

Jay bristled. He knew damn well how long his day had been, because he’d started unloading it on Zayne the moment he arrived home. If it weren’t for the sudden order that cut him off, his tormentor would have still been listening to that afternoon’s office melodrama. The last thing he needed was to present his battered body on a platter before the long weekend. 

“I have more than one, you know. If you can rummage through my fridge, you can give my closet a passing glance every now and again.” Regret only came on after handing him an open invitation to look through more of Jay’s belongings, but he suspected Zayne had already done more than his fair share of that.

“As it happens, I was looking for this particular belt.” He drew a finger along the smooth leather. “If you’re craving ice cream, an ice lolly just won’t cut it.”

“Does the trick for me,” Jay shot back and turned away down the hallway. “Here, I’ll show you where they are.” His brisk pace far too closely resembled running, and the heart pounding in his throat mimicked that well. He’d hung last time’s belt separately when he remembered he didn’t have the funds to simply keep discarding them. Probably the same reason Zayne didn’t care to use it again.

Just like a cat. The moment something was designated his, his interest dissipated. 

On an instinctual level, Jay knew he wouldn’t make it to the bedroom, but some part of him still had the audacity to be surprised when a hand twisted his hair and flung him toward the wall. Even though his shoulder took the brunt of the impact, the blow to the head was enough to skew his glasses. Jay leaned back and raised a hand to set them straight when Zayne took hold of his shirt and yanked it from his trousers.

“Get off!” In finding a stable place to lean back, Jay had unwittingly trapped himself against the wall where a knee now dug into his hip, holding him still enough to free one button, then another. He wrapped fingers around Zayne’s wrist. “The hell are you doing?!”

“Why don’t you deduce that yourself, Jayboy? Surely you can be a more reliable source than your coworker found.” A fist drove into his gut and Jay lost his grip, allowing the shirt to be shucked off him and thrown aside. 

“You could’ve just asked!” He tried to swallow the clear hypocrisy. Somehow, he only happened to think these plans through about two minutes after initiating them, and wondered how he hadn’t already anticipated the outcome.

“Try giving the same order three times in a row. See how patient you are when your punching bag cusses you out,” Zayne shrugged, reaching for the undershirt next when Jay hugged his waist in protest. He didn’t understand why Zayne held him by the hip instead until nimble fingers flicked out the end of his belt, pulled to free the buckle’s prong, and whipped it out in a single flourish. 

“On your knees.”

“Wait, wait- fuck!” The full length cut across his front, only shielded by thin cotton, but the familiar sting throbbed on his jaw. A tentative touch found hot, angry skin just below his cheek. “That was my face, Zayne!” 

“You clearly don’t care to heed my requests today. I don’t see any reason to return the favor.” He doubled the leather over and tilted his head.

Finally Jay made eye contact, turned his back, and slid to his knees. 

“No. Face me.”

“I’m not letting you bust my lip with a belt!” 

He’d already resigned himself to the shove when it came and caught himself just before he hit the wall again. Zayne’s boot landed on his ankle and couldn’t hold back a smile at the yelp it forced out. 

“Then you’d better get your arms up and make sure I can’t.”