Call me what you like | Wilbur Soot x Reader ✔️

Replaceable

6.17 am

Running late once again. I was supposed to leave the house approximately 20 minutes ago. I had already missed my first bus and if I don't start to hurry, I might just miss out on work completely. Lucky for me, I got the next bus, even though that still resulted in me getting to my work place 40 minutes late. Besides a few judgy side eyes, there wasn't too much punishment. I was the head masters assistent, so people did not dare to call me out on my mistakes too much. A move on me meant a move on my boss, at least that's what they thought.

It was true that him and me had known each other for quite some time, before I started working here. In fact, I probably only got the position because we had met before. He was the father of girl I used to go to school with. I was close with her for a while, but as time went on and we graduated from school, we kinda lost contact. It was a huge coincidence to see a familiar face, when I had my job interview here.
The result of that, on the other hand, was that every one of my coworkers, thought of me as his pet. They never said it out loud, but after a while, I just couldn't shake off the feeling of constantly being talked down to. They'd do it in a rather subliminal way when communicating face to face, but let me tell you, every single one of them needs a 101 course in whispering.

I had been the "fresh meat" for them since the very beginning. I mean, yes. I was by far the youngest there, but if the average worker age is around 40, it wasn't too difficult to fall under it.
Must have been a shock for them, when some 24 years old person comes in one day without much work experience and still gets the position almost immediately. It was kinda strange, but I was just very fortunate and could not have been happier when I got the call from Mr Chekhov to tell me, I could start working for him not even three weeks later.

My work life was going great, so great it took up a lot of my free time as well. Not because I had too much to do. It was simply consuming you a little too much sometimes. It took a lot to relax when I came home in the evening. The few things to calm your mind were literature and video games. Over the last few years, I've managed to fill a whole IKEA shelf with my favorite books (I always get hard covers of the timeless classics), comics and figurines of video games or movie characters.

I knocked on the door to Chekhov's Office. "Come in please" a deep voice called out, the door muffling the sound.
I opened the door a few inches, just enough to poke my head through.
"Good morning Sir, can I get you anything?"
The man was sitting as always behind his desk, dressed relatively formal compared to the casual outfits he usually wears. The way his office was always very intriguing to me. Beige walls mostly covered by the darker reddish toned wood furniture. On shelves, between the many old books and magizines were miniature statues of famous buildings. The eiffel tower, the statue of liberty, the tower of Pisa. You name it. He has always been a traveler and a sucker for souvenirs. On his desk stood a monitor, a keyboard, a framed picture with him and his family and some stationary.
That light grey suit, matching his short hair. I had only seen it on him once before. The day of my job interview with him. I knew our company would be hiring people again, since some of our elderly folks resently retired. But it's been less than a months, jeez. I was hoping for things to become quieter, with less people around.

He raised an eyebrow without even looking up from his work.
"Good morning. You're late again, please work on your time management."
"Will do, I promise." I answered him apologetically. He was right, not many people would be as patient as him. I appreciated his soft temper with me, while still staying professional at all times.
"We will have a special guest here in a few minutes. If you could direct him here, that would be great."
I gave him an acknowledging nod, before getting to my desk.

I turned on my pc and loaded up the company e-mails. Usually first thing I do in the morning. Nothing too important comes up and I sit back, aimlessly clicking on tabs. I was just about to start a game of solitaire when I heard someone clearing their throat above me. I looked up to see a tall brown haired man with hazel eyes gazing down on me with a nervous smile.
"Good morning, I'm supposed to have a job interview with Mr. Chekhov?", he said unsure, whether I was even to person he was supposed to ask. His voice was clear and quite pretty too, actually.
"You are..." I had to check his name on a note on my desk, before I can continue.
"...Wil Gold, I'm assuming? Follow me."