Hot New Furby In Class... (Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge x Reader)

Mysterious Deskmate??

Thursday... what a name. Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge. Your hand grips your pen so tightly its beginning to hurt but you're frozen, still unable to remove your transfixed stare from the handsome furby raised haughtily next to the teacher. With eyes pointing straight forwards, Thursday turns its head to scan the room like the spinning beam of a lighthouse scans the sea. This movement sends a shiver down your spine and you feel a nervous fluttering in your belly. Mr Abbey lifts an arm to scratch the back of his neck, rocking back on his feet as he opens and closes his mouth in what seems like him trying to think of what to say. He huffs, letting it turn into a small laugh.

"Uhh, alright. So, Thursday, welcome to the class," Mr Abbey eventually gets out, "Take any empty seat and, uh, class, you'd better be friendly to him."

So, 'him'... you'd always thought furbies weren't confined to traditional gender roles, as they are somewhere between beast and man, almost somewhere outside either. Furby history documents that furbies were born of the shrieking nothingness and have been around for longer than humanity can ever trace itself back to. It's rumoured that a few cults are actually focussed around worshipping furbies as ancient deities, though the tellings of such groups have been dwindling through recent years. You wonder if such beings truly care about pronouns, or gender... you shrug it off mentally, deciding that furbies probably don't mind and that you should just refer to Thursday as 'him' for now.

Once more you are dredged out of your dazed thoughts, but this time it's by the deepest, most velvety voice you've ever heard.

"Hey... Y/N, is it?"

No way. No. Way. You turn your gaze upwards slowly to meet Thursday's intense stare. Up close, you can see that the captivating green of his iris swirls into a dark outer ring, framed by shining black eyelids that blink twice at you, waiting for a response. You open your mouth to say something but your mind is blank, filled only with the sight and presence of the furby in front of you and leaving your jaw to simply hang open like a cartoon character. Why are you so frozen by this? You often get nervous around strangers but not enough to be tongue-tied like you are. You can feel pink flooding your cheeks as Thursday clucks his small, red tongue and slithers his worm-like body into the seat next to you. You promptly shut your mouth and shuffle over a little, feeling a tuft of his silky black fur brush your arm, sending gentle quivers through you.

Mr Abbey steps back up to the board and you grab your pen, ducking your head as, in reply to the furby, you manage to mumble, "Uh, yeah, that's me." You lean away slightly, hiding behind your jotter as you pretend to write notes in it. When you sneak a glance at Thursday, he's looking at you from the corner of his eyes with as much of a smirk on his face as his plastic lips can manage. From the depths of the fluff on his curled body, Thursday draws his own jotter and a pen with a small black pom-pom and a tiny furby model on the end of the pen. You quirk your head, wondering where the curious entity got his supplies from and how he'd been keeping them in his short fur all along. For the rest of the lesson, you mull over it in your head, nervously avoiding eye contact with Thursday and blushing embarrassedly at any accidental touch or as you watch him gracefully note the teacher's words.

After an agonisingly long yet lightning fast lesson, the loud school bell cleaves the tension between you and Thursday. Leaning back with a heavy breath, you relax into your chair and watch the furby next to you through your lowered lashes, waiting for him to get up so that you can squeeze past his chair... but Thursday isn't budging. Slowly, all your classmates shuffle out for break as fast as they possibly can in the little space that any school classroom offers, a few sneaking some quick glances back at their new, mysterious furby classmate before leaning into a friend's ear to gossip in hushed tones. Mr Abbey sits with his hands clasped at his desk, zoned out and trailing off as he wishes the other children a good break. You glance awkwardly at him but he's still too unfocused to notice that you two haven't left yet. After a moment's hesitation, you nudge Thursday in the side slightly, budging over in your chair to try and indicate that you wish to leave.

Then, your vision goes dark.

It only lasts a second, and you wonder if you just blinked, but anything you were thinking about before flees your mind at the sight of Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge just inches from your face. His body is contorted, snapped around so he faces you directly. Soft breaths hit your nose and are all that can be heard in the silence of the mostly empty room. Thursday has you trapped, and you stammer quietly, wondering if you'll be locked in his gaze forever, or what he could even say next...

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(I hate that this is in present tense but I hope it makes you feel more immersed??)