Iplier and Septiceye One-Shots/Imagines

Interview (Wilford Warfstache)

Suggested by: IrishOne101.

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You had the honour of working for the large and wealthy reporting company by the name of Warfstache Inc., with a lot of perks and a pretty decent pay, if you said so yourself.  Even for a newbie, that started just less than a week ago.

You loved this job, just sitting at your desk.  Sure, you weren't much of a reporter, more of an editor, and you haven't even spoken to Wilford Warfstache himself, ever, but you were very eager to make a good impression.  Therefore, you worked as hard as you could.  This was your dream job after all.

However, after a few more weeks of your desk job, you saw the man himself walking down the hall, carrying a clipboard and looking through the cubicles.

His teeth were as white as a fresh sheet of paper.  His eyes, a chocolate brown, were glimmering in the sun that was seeping through the blinds.  He was wearing his signature outfit, his yellow button-up shirt with brown trousers and pink suspenders, and, of course, his cotton candy pink moustache that he twirled proudly as he peered over the chest-high walls to watch people work.

After passing your coworkers, he turned to you, and lit up.

"U-uh... hello, Mr. Warfstache, sir," you stammered, a bit flustered.

"Please, call me Wilford," he smiled, and leaned on your desk. "You're the new employee, I presume?" His voice was deep and lustrous, like velvet.

"I-I uh... yeah.  I j-just started a few weeks ago," you stuttered, blushing madly.  He smiled, showing off milky-white teeth.

"Perfect.  You're just the hard worker that I need to see." He grabbed a chair from the empty desk beside you, and plopped himself down at the entrance to your cubicle.  Your eyes bugged as he put the clipboard on your desk, and grinned at you.

"I- uh... what do you need me for?" you asked unsurely, not sure whether you were in trouble or not.

"Well, since you're new here, you're more or less unbiased.  Once every other month or so, I do a small survey with one of my employees.  Just something so they're more comfortable here, you understand." You nodded, still slightly flustered by his appearance.  This was your hero, that you were working for, and he was now speaking to you. "So, basically, I was hoping if I could ask you a few questions.  Just think of it as a mini little interview." He picked up his clipboard again once he got comfortable in the chair, and took a pen out from behind his ear.

"So, do I have your permission?"

You nodded dumbly. "S-sure.  Yeah."

"Great!" He clapped his hands together excitedly, and looked at his clipboard. "So, full name?"

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

"How long specifically have you been working here?"

"Three and a half weeks?" you guessed, trying to think back to the first time you saw your desk.

"Almost a month, huh?" he smiled, and nodded, scribbling it down. "Alright then.  And how are you liking this place so far?"

"It's been great.  The office space is nice," you complimented, looking at the baby pink coloured walls.  He chuckled.

"Yeah, it isn't too bad, if I say so myself.  Picked out the colours myself," he boasted, smirking at you. "But enough about me.  How are the others?  They treating you nice?"

"I... actually haven't gotten a chance to work with them yet.  They're all busy on other projects, and I'd rather not bother them while they're working hard," you told him sheepishly.  Apparently, what you had heard from lunch breaks, the others were working on something that had to do with Wilford himself, and a few of his friends.

"Ah, yes.  Of course.  It's a small little project that my... brother... Mark, agreed upon." The reporter looked away with a small smile, lost in thought.  You waited in uncomfortable silence, then he looked up, surprised and blushing slightly.

"Ah.  Sorry about that, madam.  Just some memories." He smiled softly to you, his eyes creasing up slightly.

"It's fine.  What's the next question?"

"Oh, it's almost done, don't worry.  Let's see here... will you go out with me?"

You blinked, wondering if you heard correctly.

"I-I'm sorry, Wilford, I don't think I caught that," you said quietly, feeling your fingertips become slightly cold from shock.

"I think you heard me just fine, (Y/N)," he grinned, his eyes creasing even more as his smile widened.

"I... I-I... uh...." You sputtered and stammered, refusing to meet his eyes.  He stood by, waiting for your answer.

Well... this was a surprise.  This was Wilford fricking Warfstache, the man you had been looking up to ever since you decided you would major in journalism, so you could have a small chance to maybe see him.  And when you got a job to work for him?  Unbelievable.  And now, if you weren't hearing things, he was asking you out.

"I... yeah.  Okay, sure.  Unprofessional and all, dating your coworker, but alright," you nodded, sounding calm and collected, much to your surprise.

"I'm not your coworker, (Y/N)," Wilford snickered, "I'm your boss."

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Word count: 825