Lovers || Long Furby x Reader

Part One: The Mansion

     You awake to the quiet ticking of a clock on the wall. You groggily sit up, rubbing your eyes. You jolt to an abrupt knock. Before you can answer, the door opens with a loud creak. In the doorway stands a tall, brunette woman in a long black dress and red-lensed sunglasses.

     "Good morning," she greets, stepping inside. "I do apologize for the misshapen state of your room, the master gave short notice that you would be staying here."

     Your eyes drift from the strange woman, scanning the bedroom. Above you is a relatively large chandelier, hanging from the ceiling. To your right is a large white closet. The walls are adorned with paintings of people you don't know, velvet curtains cover the large windows, and the bed is dressed to suit a queen with goose feather pillows and fine sheets.

This isn't my room, you think.

"I-It's alright," you stutter, carefully lifting the satin sheets to see your body dressed in clothes that are not yours.

     "Breakfast will be served, shortly," The woman smiles. "I'll help you pick out your garments."

     She proceeds to swing open the doors of a closet, revealing a large arrangement of ball gowns, suits, skirts, dress shirts, and dresses.

     "Um..." you say softly, "where am I?"

     "You're at the Wilmington estate, darling," the woman chuckles, turning to you. "Where else would you be?"

     You to get dressed in a white blouse and black dress pants, not asking questions, and are escorted to an extravagant dining room. You are seated at the end of a long table, set with too many forks and too little napkins.

"The master will be with you shortly," smiles the woman.

     You nod as she leaves the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Looking around, you see the room is only lit with candles, the windows also covered in the same velvet curtains that you had seen in your room. Just as you are about to touch the wine filled glass in front of you, the door bursts open with a loud bang.
     With the door to your back, you stare straight forward, beads of sweat forming at your brow. The candles flicker as your host takes his seat at the opposite end of the table.

"I see you've found some clothing to your liking," he tauntingly licks his beak.

     "Yes," you answer, your face flushed, "Thank you."

     The woman returns with a tray of toaster waffles, poached eggs, and bacon.

"I hope this will suffice," he nods to the meal set at your place.

"Will that be all, sir?" the woman asks.

"Yes, thank you, Helena"

     Helena bows and leaves, the sound of the heavy door echoing throughout the grand room. After along moment of silence, he extends his neck and drinks from his wine glass. It's not filled with wine. He lifts his head back up and his eyes meet yours.

"You fancy me?" he asks, moving his long body back to its sitting position.

"W-what?" you ask, startled.

     He darts across the table in the blink of an eye. His body wraps around your shoulders and neck, his cold, plastic beak pressed against your ear. Your muscles tense as he wraps around your arms. He was longer than you anticipated. His purple body tightens around your wrists. Your breathing quickens and your temperature rises.

You want him.

And he knows you do.