Your white tailed buck faun boyfriend took a sick day today.
Unfortunately for you, that means you missed out on his mean PSL on your morning coffee run. One of his coworkers made it instead, and while they're both decent enough baristas, they've got nothing on him. It's not going to be bad, really- just not the same.
According to your message exchange earlier, he isn't contagious, which is why you've just arrived at his place, two slightly subpar lattes and a few other things for him in tow.
"I… didn't expect you to actually show up." He says in exasperation. He's in sweats and draped loosely in a blanket, but doesn't look ill.
Honestly, you're a bit confused as to why he's acting shy. It's not like you haven't seen him in sweats before.
"I brought you one too." You hand him the second coffee cup. "Probably not as good as if you were on shift, but, well- you didn't hear that from me."
The faun hesitates for a moment- then snorts and uncouples himself from the door with a smile. He takes the cup with both hands and bringing it to his mouth to take a sip.
Despite the cold welcome, he motions for you to come in.
Curiously- the outer layer of his antlers seem to be… peeling off? It almost looks like moss hanging from two tree branches.
He immediately sinks back onto the couch, looking defeated.
"…This is so embarrassing." He sighs and picks at one of the scraps of suede-y material peeling from his right antler, resigned to not being able to even attempt to hide the shedding now.
"What uh… is it?"
"My velvet's coming off. It happens every autumn."
"Does it hurt?"
"No. Worse. It's itchy." He grimaces, ears flicking in annoyance.
"It's difficult to do on my own. If I try to do it all at once, I get dizzy from craning my neck for too long… So I have to do it in short stints."
"Ah, so I guess that's why you're at home today. Takes a lot of time?"
"Yeah. And it's not exactly food safe to be shedding over the barista bar."
"Can I help? I don't know if that's like, rude to ask or whatever, but I could."
"You don't think it's gross?"
"No, not really."
He blinks at you, and then after a moment of consideration, agrees.
"Fine…" He grabs an handheld item from the side table and hands it to you.
It looks sort of like one of those back scrubbers with the handles on either side, just smaller. One side is roughly textured like tree bark, and the other is a smooth buffer, like on a nail board.
Soon, with a little bit of instruction, you find yourself standing behind the couch, using the handles to drag the exfoliator back and forth against his antler in a see-saw motion, scraping at the old velvet.
"Like this?" You ask after a few swipes, to make sure you're doing it right.
"Mhmm..." He's very clearly enjoying the attention, from the way he hums and affectionately rubs back against the applied pressure.
You can't say you're not enjoying it, and quickly get lost in the work- the repetitive motion and soft noise is soothing, and it's very satisfying seeing the patches of shiny new antler unearthed from beneath the old, spent velvet.
"You said this only happens once a year?" Maybe it's silly, but you already sort of wish you had more opportunity to do this for him.
You can see his fingertips dig into the couch cushions when you hit a particularly nice spot.
"Yeah." He affirms, and then nonchalantly adds in a hazy, breathy voice; "Right before rut."
"Oh?" You feel warmth prickle the back of your neck from the tidbit of information alone.
"…That's why I'm out sick for the rest of the week..."
nsfw - just a short one this time! (590 words)- You help a shy faun overcome his fear - hand jobs - fantasy erogenous zones
When you first stepped into the 5th enclosure you couldn't see anyone.
"Hello?" You spoke into the dim light and noticed a slight movement in response. As your eyes adjusted you saw legs covered in thick woolly fur, tucked in on themselves and held by hairy but more human arms. You slowly moved closer and knelt down next to the shape.
"It's ok, I won't hurt you, I'm just here to check on you." No response. "My name is (name) what's yours?" A muffled mumble came from the pile of fur. "Sorry I couldn't hear you."
The creature rose it's head a little and you noticed two little blunt horns poking out of his curly chestnut hair. "I’m Moss"
"Moss is a lovely name, you're a faun aren't you?" You smiled. Moss nodded and shyly smiled back and you noticed a glint of gold in his brown eyes. He had long fluttery lashes, and though he had looked small huddled in the corner, you realised that he'd be taller than you if he stood up.
"It's scary being in a new place isn't it?" He nodded "is there anything I can do to help?"
"I don't know.."
"anything at all? I'll bring you some food later so don't worry about that, but I promise if there's anything that would help you feel more comfortable I'd be happy to do it for you"
He thought for a moment, "can you just talk to me? Everything sounds so strange here..." you listened for a moment and heard faintly the sound of crowds in the distance and planes overhead, and the motorway where it all started. Not the sort of thing you would hear in a magical forest.
"Of course! I have lots of people to check on so I won't be able to stay for long but I'd be happy to talk to you!" You were quite relieved you'd be able to give your body a break. "What would you like to talk about?" You asked.
"I want to hear about you" he answered
So you sat with him and told him about your life in this world, about your family, your friends, school, work, while he listened fascinated by this new world though the reality of it still scared him. As you talked he started to lean his head against your shoulder, and then snuggle into your side. He was warm and smelt of hay and leaves, so you didn't mind. You absentmindedly stroked his curly hair, brushing against his horns. He went quieter after that but you didn't notice right away, continuing to fiddle with his hair and gently caress his horns.
"(Name)..." he murmured after a few minutes, "my horns... they're sensitive.."
You saw then that his cheeks had flushed and something was sticking out from the woolly fur of his crotch.
"Oh! I'm sorry I had no idea!" You stammered, quickly moving your hand away.
"Actually.. i don't mind... it's nice..." he mumbled.
"Want me to keep going?"
He nodded, "if that's ok..."
You wrapped your fingers around one horn and began to stroke, intentionally this time, listening to the faun's soft moans and whimpers. At one point his hand reached for his shaft.
"Here let me," you smiled and gently wrapped your other hand around his pretty cock. As soon as you touched him he moaned your name and his milky white pleasure spilled onto your hand.
"Oh!" You gasped.
"Sorry,"
"No no don't be! I'm glad you enjoyed it"
He blushed "Thank you (name), I, I'm feeling a lot better..."
Noemi - F Faun x AFAB NB Human (Reader) // NSFW Monster Match
This is a birthday present for the lovely, lovely @weasleasley - I hope you’ve had the absolute best day you angel <3
Content: NSFW/Lemon; lots of fluff, baking, tentative friendships, intimate touches (hand holding, hugs), teasing and flirting, kissing, light groping, straddling, thigh riding, light voyeurism, use of endearment “honey”, giving oral (no release + self-denial), nipple play, giving and receiving fingering (+ release), kissing, alluding to more
Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi
Headcanon
Only one welcome mat decorated the long hallway, and it hadn't been there the day before.
You hadn't seen nor heard anyone moving into the long vacant flat, though that wasn't so uncommon. Often coming and going, busying yourself with visits to friends and day trips out, they must've moved in some time the evening before.
Still, three days from its appearance, you hadn't seen your newest neighbour.
Those three days were the longest since moving in.
Nobody had sought you out during your first week, nothing more than passing smiles given in greeting, but you had wished for more then. If they felt the same, trapped in their new home, in a building of strangers, you wanted to be the one to welcome them.
Every morning you returned home early - either just finishing a swimming class or meeting a friend to walk their dog, you lingered longer at their door. Their flat number was so stuck in your head now that as you left, the buzzers for each flat drew you close.
One had a new label.
Noemi.
Knowing their name worsened the ache in your chest and maybe subconsciously, on day four when you passed the time with fresh blueberries and muffin tins, you made a little too much. So much it overflowed into more muffin cases, an overflow your friends wouldn't take after receiving chocolate bread days before.
Noemi - someone you still had yet to meet, seemed the perfect recipient, and you were carrying the fresh muffins down the hall before they had even cooled.
Though once the doorbell rang, muffled steps nearing, you struggled for what to say.
All planned greetings vanished as the locks twisted back, the door opening just an inch on a chain.
Muffins darkened by fruit juices lifted in your hands as you smiled. "I'm down the hall - number seven. Hi."
They closed the door.
Fresh muffins suddenly smelled bitter, a weight in your hands too much now. Whether you had been mistaken in thinking they would want a welcome or if the offering had been a mistake only taunted you for the time it took to release the chain latch.
Hair darker than yours in even the colder seasons tucked over her shoulders in loose braids, brought together by one golden band; golden like the thin hoops in the droop of her wide ears, like the chain curled from the base of her left horn at her temple. Both horns split at the top, segmented like smaller antlers.
While you lost your voice, she whispered, "they're for me?"
Her voice was even sweeter than the muffins. "Blueberry."
Noemi's hands fluttered by her hips and you followed her flowing dress from where it wrapped at her chest, down to her thighs darkened by thick fur. You wondered if it was soft, not quite thick enough to conceal the dip of muscle as she fidgeted on cloven hooves.
"You made them? For me?"
Unintentionally, though you would never say so. Her hands touched yours in lifting the burdened tub and wafted the warmth of freshly baked muffins, her plump lips curling at the corners.
"I've never baked."
"I could show you how."
With barely a conversation between you, the words somehow fell into the pause. By some miracle, she didn't deflect or close the door again.
Instead, she tucked the muffins closer to her chest. Her honeyed eyes crinkled when she laughed. "I'd like that."
Introductions led into setting a date and time for the coming weekend. Just that first meeting promised a good afternoon, though Noemi came late; not too late, but after long enough of a wait that you began to finish the pattern of granny squares you crocheted to occupy yourself.
It hardly mattered once you began baking.
One question coaxed a story from her, filled with soft laughs and side glances as she spoke, and you were content to stand close and listen - only occasionally directing her with the cake mix.
Noemi spoke of the jewellery she made suited for her horns and ears, and when she mentioned seeing your crochet hooks, you almost forgot to reply, so taken by her paying such attention to you.
It was in your pause she touched her arm gently to yours. Such a brief touch, you wondered if it had really happened, but you felt her warmth long after she'd left, paired with a flutter in your navel as she smiled. "I want to hear more about you."
You never expected more than one afternoon together.
Curls still damp from swimming that morning tickled your nape when you turned at your name. Noemi woke nearly as early as you, learning so after asking about your home here, and opened her door as you passed.
"Could you show me around sometime? I'm new to the area." Long ears twitched then, and she bit back a smile. "Maybe somewhere a little more green?"
Your friendship blossomed with ease.
Never needing to panic for conversation, never an uncomfortable lull, the trips into the woods together started out short, slowly becoming longer. You carried a picnic bag up and in return, she helped to set up the same area beneath a large tree.
Little touches came with the friendship.
Noemi offered her hand to help you stand, a gentle hug always the parting gift. You welcomed it, though it left you sometimes in a daze, especially when out. You were left behind to watch as Noemi headed downhill, the back of her dress lifting a little with the twitching of her small tail beneath.
Busy days had always passed quickly before, but out with friends now, you thought of Noemi, and came home to spend the evening sharing stories from your days apart. She nestled beside you on the sofa, her full cheek dimpled as she rested against her palm, equally content to listen to you.
Little things came to mind when you began anticipating her touches - more than parting hugs.
Like her fingertips soft on your round cheek, tucking back freed curls, or how she always looked back to you in every conversation to ask, "what about you?"
Straightening her welcome mat became a habit when you passed, until it became more.
Needing more.
So when she lingered before leaving and offered to host you in her home the next day, you never hesitated.
Noemi welcomed you into her home and arms, a light coating of flour on her hands from laying out the ingredients. "I'm a little behind, but I couldn't cancel," she whispered. "I would miss you if I did."
Whichever of your hobbies she asked after came naturally to her.
Her baking was always sweet, a treat to indulge in. Noemi fell back into her sofa and tucked her long legs close, the hem of her dress slipping to reveal her upper thighs, the dips of her hips.
Sugar still on her lips, she turned her cheek on the cushions, the chains on her antlers like music in the comfortable quiet.
"You don't have to leave."
Her palm came to the curve of your cheek as she followed your soft jaw down, resting her thumb beside your lips.
She crept closer.
"We don't have to rush anything, either."
You were already falling between the spread of her legs when you teased, "rush what?"
Noemi's laugh came breathless. "Let me kiss you, honey."
It was all at once and nothing at all, the rush of having her close and pressed to you. Her hands followed yours in exploration, learning what made your body tremble as you sought the same.
Her flat nose touched yours, tracing over the freckles in your cheeks while you stroked backwards through her fur on her thighs. You came together and rested back in a shared embrace.
Drabble
Again and again, the stitch marker caught your fingertips. The last stitches hadn't been your best - pulled too tight in your drifting focus, the yarn tangling around your hook - but with Noemi beside you, concentrating on the intricacies of a granny square was beyond your ability. It wasn't as captivating as following the crooking of her fingers, weaving through yarn or smoothing over her dress when she stretched. She would bump into you and a smile would be shared, until she decided to leave her thigh flush against yours, that warmth rising to a burn.
The last of the squares could be finished tomorrow.
You weren't able to wait for Noemi to finish the row of her pattern before lifting up on your knees and covering her hands. She surrendered her work without fight as you tucked it aside with yours.
"Noemi?"
She caught your wrists and lured you closer with a sigh. "Finally."
It had been you inciting this sudden rush, but now, as your thighs came over hers, you felt lost. Noemi guided you to straddle her, and it was with the tipping of her chin that you kissed, wanting too much too quickly. You needed to be closer and leaned back from her sweet lips to see her nod as you touched the strap of her shorter dress. The desire to memorise her taste clouded you when you kissed her throat, feeling her pulse skip beneath your lips, down to her clavicles until she breathed your name.
One touch from her, and you succumbed to leaning close. Noemi curled her arm over your lower back and held you where she wanted. Her thigh tensed and lifted, dragging flush between yours. You wanted to be the one making her shudder and cry, but standing back on unsteady legs, she followed you up with a smile of swollen lips.
"Let's go to my room," you whispered.
So often, you sought to lead, but Noemi stole your breath with the simplest of moves. Her dress pooled around her ankles as she moved from the lounge. You followed nearly staggering after her, torn from watching the sway of her hips or the fluff of her tail above her rear.
"Noemi?"
However you wished to verbalise your plea, you couldn't. She turned at the end of your bed - right where she left you, crawling back onto it. Her legs lifted close to her hips, baring softer, glistening hair.
Her blunt horns tangled in your covers, chains dragging with her every groan. Fingers you wanted to replace with your own trailed from her rising chest over dark nipples, down to where she ached. The sight beckoned you closer.
You wanted to make her gasp, make her cry and turn into the sheets.
Though she ignored you, lost to her own touch - tempting enough, you almost fell back to please yourself, but kissed from the dip of her knee up to her knuckles. Deep breaths teased you.
"Noemi, please."
"Go on, honey," she whispered, and used her fingers to spread herself for you. With her still gently touching herself, you could stroke back through her fur in the way that had her throat tightening, your other hand curling at her wide hip to hold her close.
She tasted sweet on your tongue, with one kiss coaxing her hips from the bed. Noemi filled the room with her gasps and deeper cries. You leaned even closer, chasing the relief she was so close to. Strong thighs clenched against you as you closed your lips over her clit, relishing in her moans when you lapped at her and her cries when she sucked around her.
"Little lower - that's it."
Noemi stroked back your hair - a move so affectionate, your own body thrummed, nudging you down. She warmed your tongue when you flattened it to stroke firmer, her body fluttering around you, so close-
"Not yet."
You fell into her embrace when she lifted you up. "I wasn't done."
"Not important until you're satisfied, honey. Lift your arms for me?"
As you had been before - helpless with her thigh rocking against you, Noemi cradled you to her lap. She undressed you slowly, time not of importance, mindful of what her touches did to you. Her knuckles grazed your bare chest when she moved lower. From hearing your breath catch, her lips rose, coming to soften around your nipple. She hummed - still attentive, finding you weaker when she pressed warmer kisses across your chest, and distracted you perfectly.
When her palm cupped between your thighs, you groaned. Her thumb rolled over your sensitive nerves in repeated circles. "Tell me you're okay."
"I'm okay," you whispered. "Keep going. Please."
Her touch tucked lower, closer. You circled her wrist to push her further and you arched up when she stroked against your walls. "That feeling nice, honey?" Noemi rested her forehead to yours, lips hovering. "Feels like you're nearly there, hm?"
The tremors began when her pace hastened - fingers rolling and your nerves so sensitive. It came to a peak when you found her as wanting, mimicking her movements against her own clit. You came around her with a sharp cry and she tasted herself on your tongue when she swallowed your whines, determined to have her follow you.
Her soft tail tapped still against the sheets long after you regained your breaths. With her horns carefully angled back, Noemi laid by her cheek on your chest. When you traced a little higher from her thigh on your hip, she nestled closer, her breath warm on your nipple as she kissed you.
It was like any other moment together - that familiar peace and comfort embracing you. She sighed, her hand squeezing yours. "I don't like hiking," she said. "But I like you."
You closed your eyes as she kissed her way lower. "I like you, too."
kinktober teaser ; day eight
female faun x gender/body neutral reader
420 words
lemon | mildly rough handling, grinding
You wrench your head to the side with a gasp, eyes fluttering as you try and ignore Verene’s plaintive, needy noises. Her fingers are still grasping at your jaw, blunt nails and over warm fingertips pressing into your skin as she rushes full steam ahead.
“Air,” you complain, though you can’t help the laugh that spills from your mouth when she groans. “I need it, you know?” She’s always impatient, always trying to go as fast as possible, as if she’s afraid she’ll miss something if she ever slows.
Verene stops trying to tug your face back to hers, but she doesn’t remove the leg she has hooked over your hip. She doesn’t stop grinding herself against you. She grasps at your clothes, tangles her hands in them, as if she can will them away with her touch. When that gains her nothing but a glancing kiss over your cheek, your mouth still turned away to breathe, she moves on.
“Touch me then,” she urges, taking your hand from her waist and bringing it to her chest. She’s rougher than you are, she always is, squeezing your hand around her own breast, making you pinch fiercely at her nipple. “Harder,” she breathes, hazel eyes growing dark when you do as she asks.
You take the moment to keep panting, trying to regulate your breath as you tug at her nipple, eliciting a thrilled little gasp from her bitten lips. Her hair is a mess, curls tangled around her horns and sticking to her forehead and the top of her neck, damp with sweat. Verene likely can’t care any less about appearance though, not when she’s intent on chasing pleasure. You have a split second to admire her, to enjoy how utterly debauched she looks, though you know she’ll pull you along like the undertow any moment now.
When you don’t lean forward to kiss her again, she grows impatient, the friction of your hip not quite enough for her. She drops her hand from around yours, trusting you to keep touching, to keep pinching and then pushes you to your back.
Verene settles herself over your abdomen, not even bothering to further undress you and wriggles. You’re going to be just as much of a mess as she is soon, you can feel it, her wetness slick against what bare skin she can find. She grins down at you, leaning a hand in the middle of your chest and starts to rock, squeezing either side of you with her thighs.
The deal had been struck many years ago, when you had been no more then a baby in your father’s arms.
You had been told the story of this promise so many times, over and over again so that you better understood it. Sometimes it was told by your father as he held you on his lap, other times it was told by your nurse as she tucked you into bed. Back then, it had really seemed like only a bedtime story, though you had always known it was the truth, and it was told like this:
“Many years ago, the five rulers of five, mighty counties had decide that their wars had gone on long enough.
For years, they had fought and struggled against one another, each attempting to prove that they were the strongest. But in time, they all realized that fighting and bloodshed only made them weaker. They realized that, though they were all strong lands, their strength would grow if they worked together. Without the constant fighting, their countries could grow and flourish, their people would finally be safe and happy.
After years of hard work, your father, King Baris of Lenovia, had brought together the four rules that he had long warred against. He invited them to his castle in a mission of peace, hoping to finally end this terrible war. And they were...
Bodhi, king of the winter people of the mountains.
Claudius, king of the playful yet fierce spring folk of the south.
Hagu, chief of the mighty Orc warriors of the wild lands.
Serine, queen of the ancient and powerful elves.
And, of course, your papa.
It took them only one meeting to end put an end to their fighting. All of the rulers were very tired of the brutality and the bloodshed and the pain of their people and chose to end it. Many promises were made that day. They promised to support and defend one another, to help one another, and to finally forget their foolish bickering.
And they promised that, one day, when all of their children were grown up, a marriage would be made between Lenovia and one of the other kingdoms.
It was a good promise, one that had been made many times by many royals over the centuries. Lenovia was the largest of the lands and a marriage would unite it fully with another. But with it came a slight problem:
Who would marry who?
Bodhi had several sons, the youngest being just a babe himself and the eldest just becoming a man.
Claudius had a handful of happy and healthy children running around.
Hagu had a set of strong twins, a son and a daughter respectively.
Serine had a son of her own and no other children.
And King Baris had only one child. You, his baby princess. Your mother had since died, God rest her soul, and you were his only heir, his only child.
The discussion was a long one, long and hard, but as the morning sun began to shine, it was finally decided:
One day, when all their children were grown up and ready for a marriage, Princess Y/N would get to make a choice. She would meet and marry one of the chosen princes but she would get to choose her husband.
And you will. You’ve met the princes, haven’t you, dear? Bodhi came to visit you at Christmas and Aestas visited your summer home. And you remember Cornelius, don’t you? And Raguk came to visit then too. You liked them all and, hopefully, you still will. For the sake of Lenovia, you’ll meet a good match.”
Now you were grown.
You had grown from a babbling baby to a curious child to a bright young woman and now...to yourself. Princess Y/N of Lenovia, crown princess and heir to the throne, future High Queen of the untied lands. No longer did you run giggling around your castle, whispering secrets to your maids and dance all around the royal gardens. The past few years of your life had been spent studying and training harder then you ever had, all in order to one day become a good queen.
Now you stood in front of your father, looking up at his golden throne as he smiled down at you.
The fatherly pride in his eyes was evident as you he was updated on your training and studies (as well as the little details that a father liked to hear). Your tutors and guides came one by one, announcing your progress to the king.
It was decided: you could ride (better then most), fight (like a warrior), speak several languages (including Orcish and Elvish, both rather difficult tongues), had mastered etiquette (much to your Governess’s pleasure), and studied everything a good ruler ought to. History, literature, geography, mathematics and science, philosophy, and many more subjects.
You were, they said, an intelligent, graceful, strong, princess.
And you were finally ready.
Of course, you’d known what this royal meeting was going to be about for weeks. With your father and his advisers suddenly watching and whispering about your every move, how could you not? There were other clues too. A new ship having been built, new sailors and guards being trained, a new wardrobe ordered for you, more studies involving the four other kingdoms…
You would have to be an idiot not to see it.
And you were no idiot. As you stood in front of your father, your heart thumped wildly in your chest with every passing moment. Though you already expected this...it was still quite nerve-wracking. The idea of sailing away to meet your possible husbands was a rather intimidating one. But you would handle it all, no matter what was thrown at you during the journey. You had to, for the sake of your country and your people...and for your father.
“Y/N...”
The knig smiled at you, reaching out to beckon you closer. Holding your gown carefully, you made your way to the throne and took your father’s hand.
“My little princess…I believe that you’re smart enough to know why I've called you here.” He said softly.
“I have an inkling, Papa.”
“I hate to see you leave,” your father said, “to send you off to some foreign land and hope that you find the happiness you deserve...now I understand how your grandfather felt when he sent your mother to me. I can only hope...”
He paused, looking away for a second before rerunning his gaze to you.
“I can only hope that you are as lucky as we were. That you find true love in one of these princes.”
That was your own hope as well.
The meeting had been over a month ago. Since then, the old year had ended and a new year had begun. Your ship was declared seaworthy, your sailors and soldiers were the best Lenovia had to offer, your things were packed, and you were well trained and ready. There were no excuses to hide behind, no more time to bee borrowed.
It was time for you to go.
The trip ahead was a little bit daunting. It would be a year of traveling across the seas, traveling to four new lands, meeting four new near strangers...and your possible husband. You had not seen the princes since you were a child and you had to wonder...what were they like now? Would you like them? Would they like you? Oh, how you hoped so! You were more then nervous, a little scared, perhaps, and a little excited at the same time.
The future seemed so...big. So intimidating. The story you had been told so many times as a child was suddenly real and right in front of you, waiting for you to write the next chapter.
As you stood on the ship, you looked back at your home land. The castle and country you had always known was slowly vanishing as you sailed away and you watched it shrink and shrink...until it was gone.
There was nothing but the pale sunset and the wide open ocean.
Tears welled in your eyes and a heaviness set in your heart. You ached for home already but...you new better then to allow yourself to wallow. Turning your back to the past, you looked forward to the coming future. In your heart, you could only hope that this journey would bring your and your kingdom love and happiness...
Four seasons, you told yourself, and four princes.
One year, one choice.
(Here it is! The beginning of my latest story! I’ll be posting it on here and on Wattpad, where it has its own book. What will happen to Princess Y/N? Which prince will she meet first? Keep reading and find out!)
Your pygora goat faun partner is always in high demand.
They're pretty much always on call, given they're one of the best curse breakers around. This isn't the first time a date of yours has been interrupted by them having to go do their magic work stuff.
By time you step into the suspiciously empty paint-your-own-pottery studio behind them, still holding the multiple shopping boutique bags you've been charged with the care of on your outing, the faun's already greeting the proprietress, one of your mutual friends.
"Hi!! Thanks for coming- Oh- I hope you weren't too busy… it's probably just a little curse?"
"Nonsense, it's like, NO trouble at all. Even a little jinx isn't something to just live with! So what's going on?"
"I've had every single birthday cancel today, that, um… never happens. So it made me think maybe something was wrong." She wrings her hands worriedly. "…And there was that lady yesterday that said she was going to curse me because we were out of pink balloons…"
"That's customer service for you." They say, sympathetically. "Okay- Give me like… 30 minutes. I'll like, totally get you sorted."
"Really? That fast?"
"Mhmm! It's just a little one after all, hehe."
You leave your slightly less exasperated looking friend to answer a call at the counter, and head into the painting portion of the studio. The faun's hooves click on the tile as they look over the shelves on the walls, ponderously inspecting the rows and rows of shelves of pottery blanks.
"Wanna paint some pottery with me, babe?" They flirt, winking at you.
They then immediately go a bit sheepish when it dawns on them they can't reach the shelf that has the round tile they need on it- one arm still awkwardly hovering in the air.
You're much taller than them, You could just grab it for them. It would be an obnoxiously simple gesture.
"I got you."
Instead, you grab them around the waist and lift them off their feet, until they're within arm's reach of their target.
Despite their best effort, they giggle so loud you can feel the contractions wracking their torso in your hands.
Once they're back on the floor, they find a table and, with no further ceremony, start painting.
Anyone else would probably question their methods, but you know that they know what they're doing. Even without your prior knowledge, the subtle cyan glow in their eye while they're working tells you that there's something magical going on in those brush strokes.
"Finished!" They say several minutes later, holding their slightly damp work aloft. "I'm like, not an actual artist or anything but- tada~"
It's a clean design of a large eye with a bright aqua colored iris, the black outer rim lined with a running script that looks like sigil work to your untrained eye.
"What do you mean? It looks great."
"Yeah… I suppose it's pretty cute."
"Just like you."
They chortle in response, and get up to bound back to the counter. By time you catch up, they're already instructing your friend on how to use it.
"Oh wow, how pretty! You said I should put this in the kiln to fire?"
"So, yeah, like, you just put it the kiln it'll do it's whole magic cleansing thing while it bakes!" They bubbly explain. "Totally hands free! And when it's done, you should hang it across from the front door. It'll keep this from happening again."
"Thank you so much! You're like, a lifesaver."
After a bit more chitchat, you exit the studio, feeling like you did a good deed (even though you technically didn't really do anything).
"Sorry that took a while..."
"Hey, you can't help you're a hot commodity." You tease. "As long as I get you at the end of the day."
