merch and fanartist!

i am so sorry to ppl in my inbox that i ghosted regarding commissions, it was by accident. i got a amazing job opportunity and ended up heavily stepping away from my social medias as i transitioned to post grad life.

“Jake,” Coyote said. He was coming closer, and he was smiling, that familiar fond half smile with his head slightly cocked. Crazy motherfucker. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah. I’m aware.” He was aware of a lot of things, actually. Like Didi’s painting on the wall, and the rug on the floor, and the color of Coyote’s eyes up close. A fervent, desperate want clenched around his stomach and his heart, straining up his spine, urging him forward, and Hangman said the only thing he could think of. “You want me to go stand under the holly?”

“It’s mistletoe, you stupid asshole,” Coyote said, and pulled him into a kiss. His mouth was just as warm and soft as Hangman remembered, and Hangman melted into him, losing himself in the pressure of Coyote’s hand against his jaw, the press of teeth against his lower lip, the familiar, easy glide of their tongues. Easy. It was so fucking easy, all of it, all of this, and it made him want to cry and beam and laugh hysterically at the same time. Thank God for fucking mistletoe.