You (YouTube One-Shots)

For One Night Only

(My attempt at a Wilford Warfstache x Female Reader, with some nice smut at the end.)

Drinking. Fighting. Flirting.

It was three of his favorite things, and why shouldn't they be? Wasn't that what life was really all about? A life revolving around that trifecta was hardly ever boring, and boredom would have been the death of dear old Wilford.

You, of course, wouldn't have known a damn thing about what he considered his holy trinity. All you had seen was some weirdo dancing on stage.

"Don't be such a sad sack, come on!" she cried, pulling you out of the corner of the club where you had been trying to remain inconspicuous. No such luck: your best friend Serenity would see to it that you at least tried to enjoy yourself. She had insisted on taking you out, after all, as she was sick of you moping about the apartment. She giggled, her pale hair bouncing as she walked with you towards the bar. She ordered two drinks: a spiked lemonade for herself, and a strong whiskey for you. The stuff tasted awful, and you knew that it did, but it was the only thing that would get you properly drunk.

"I don't know why you talked me into coming here, this place is a fucking mess," you cried out over the music.

Serenity covered her mouth and giggled. "I told you, I'm not letting you mope around!" She had already finished her lemonade and waited politely for you to finish your own drink. Then she grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you onto the dance floor. "Dance with me!" the tiny woman exclaimed. Really, she was hardly five feet tall, and as slender as a bamboo pole, with hair that seemed to almost shimmer in the lights. It was as pale as the rest of her, but she moved gracefully, all things considered. In short, she looked beautiful and perfectly at home on the dance floor. You felt like the ugly duck among swans as you peered around.

"I'm not drunk enough for this," you admitted, walking back to the bar and leaving Serenity to her own devices.

The bar was crowded as all fuck, but you squeezed your way in and ordered a double whiskey this time, on the rocks. You winced as you drank, hating the taste but wanting only that euphoric sensation of being lightheaded from the alcohol.

"If you so insist on drinking, madam, I suggest drinking something a little bit tastier," came a smooth voice from behind you.

"Fuck off and mind your own business," you spat back, not even bothering to turn and glance at him.

Big mistake. Something prodded into your lower back, something that felt distinctly like the handle of something. Or the barrel. "Now, madam, we don't want to go and say rash things, do we? Hmm?" You were prodded again, with what you could only assume was some sort of pistol.

Swallowing hard you set your drink down with a shaky hand. The lights in the club were blinding, and you were terrified of turning around to face this man, the one who currently had a gun pressed to your lower back. "I-I'm sorry, I just--"

"There we go." As quickly as it had been brought out the pistol was tucked away again. Then the man chuckled some more. "Don't give me that frightened look, madam. I wasn't going to shoot you." How was he getting away with having a GUN in the club?! Who the hell did he think he was?

You whipped around, ready to tell him off, but was startled by his appearance. Messy dark hair, chocolate brown eyes that seemed warm and inviting, and a bright pink mustache to boot. He pulled and curled at the hairs there gently, smiling down at you. "Fascinating isn't it? You'll find none like it anywhere on God's green earth, madam."