now playing: "I put a spell on you/Because you're mine" - I Put A Spell On You by Annie Lennox
masterpost | ao3
You check, double check and triple check your emails again, just to make sure you’re not mistaken. Nope. It says there, in black and white:
Y/N Y/L/N, interview at 12pm, Jan 30th @ Kent Industries, Metropolis.
Phew, you are in the right place, in the lobby of the most luxurious corporate building you have ever seen. Nervous butterflies turn in your stomach. You check the time on your phone screen. 11:51. Not long to go now.
You clutch your bag to your chest, running over your preprepared answers in your head.
Why do you best fit the role? Because you’re eager to challenge yourself with a new role in a new industry.
What skills do you possess? You’re extremely organised, driven, and know your way around a mean spreadsheet.
Why should we hire you? Because you have a proven track record as a great employee, and you are willing to do whatever it takes to succeed in the role.
You pick at a hangnail you have, biting your lip as you think about what lies ahead of you.
In truth, you aren’t massively bothered about the company or the role. Being someone’s secretary seems okay but it’s not exactly your dream role, your passion. Although, after the past few months, you aren’t entirely sure what your passion is anymore.
You sigh.
You’ve been pushed in the direction of the role by Cat, your close friend and literal boulder in the recent chaos. The pay seems good, and you’ll be working in the same company as your bestie. Plus, you now have rent to pay - and a fair bit of it, too. Turns out Metropolis isn’t exactly cheap to live in.
But, most importantly, you need something to take your mind off of things, to prove to yourself you haven’t just fucked your life up completely.
You really, really need to nail this today.
You smooth the material of your pants once, twice. You haven’t been for a job interview in years, so you had to make-do with what you had from your very limited wardrobe. A white blouse, long-dress pants that make your legs look a lot longer than they actually are, and heeled black boots. The extra platform helps you feel professional, and not like a deer looking into headlights.
You feel a buzz in your pocket. You slide your phone out to see a message from Cat.
Good luck today bitchhh <3 seriously you’ve got this in the bag! Let me know how it goes and if you slay it (which you obvs will) I’ll take you to that nice noodle bar for dinner (my treat!)
Who needs men when you can have a piping hot bowl of ramen with your bestie x
You love Cat, and you genuinely don’t think you’d still be sane without her help. She’s let you move into her apartment, and now she’s finding you a job?! You should be the one buying her dinner!
As you’re in the middle of typing your reply, something comes to you. A distant voice, yelling something; something that sounds suspiciously like your name…
Oh shit, the interview!
You stand up quickly, throw your phone into your bag, and make your way over to an attractive blonde woman who has been trying to get your attention.
She smiles at you as you approach her. “Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”
“Yes, sorry,” you reply, your cheeks slightly flaming. “I was a bit distracted.”
“Not to worry,” she taps the tablet in her hands, “they’ve only just finished with the last candidate. If you just go down the corridor,” she gestures down a flashy hallway, “they’ll be in the room on your right.”
“Amazing, thank you!”
You depart quickly, still embarrassed by your behaviour. You can’t believe you almost missed it - and after everything Cat has done for you. Now you definitely need to be on your A-game.
They’ll be in the room on your right.
You look up at the myriad of doors until you find the one that reads INTERVIEW ROOM 1. This must be it.
You knock softly but with purpose. No answer comes from within.
Maybe they just didn’t hear you?
Taking a deep breath, you turn the handle and step inside.
The room clearly also acts as a meeting room, with a long table in the centre and chairs on either side. Large windows line the outside walls, giving view to Metropolis’ skyline. It’s sprawling and gorgeous. But that’s not what you’re focusing on.
Your eyes are caught on the man in the middle.
He is big, towering even, his back muscles rippling under his light blue dress shirt. The width of his shoulders are practically double the size of you, his broad torso tapering into long, thick legs. Dark, fluffy hair sits atop his head, slightly quiffed at the front.
And he sounds pissed.
“That’s not fucking good enough, Steve!” He yells into the phone he’s holding up to his ear. His hand makes it look miniscule.
When he turns to the side, your breath catches in your throat.
A chiselled jaw gives way to a defined nose, dark eyebrows furrowed. His nostrils flare and he pushes a hand through his hair as he listens to whoever’s on the phone’s response.
He looks more like he belongs in the pages of a magazine, not in some office building.
“No, you listen to me. What I’m saying is-” The big guy stops mid-sentence when his eyes finally land on you. You give him a small smile but he doesn’t return the gesture. “What do you want?”
He’s talking to you. And now he sounds extra angry.
Your heart hammers in your ears as you find your words. “I- I’m here for an interview.”
“Interview?” The guy snaps, curling his lips in clear disgust. “I didn’t agree to speak to any press today.”
Press? “Oh, I’m not press. I’m here for a job interview, the secretary job.”
At your explanation, you see something pass over his face. Intrigue? Understanding? His features soften, his gaze running over you from head to toe. You’re suddenly very aware of the rate of your heartbeat.
He still hasn’t said anything so you grip your bag strap. “If this isn’t a good time, I can come back-”
“No,” he says, and you feel like it’s a command. You wait in place as he turns back to the phone. “Steve, I’ll call you back.” Sliding the device into the pocket of his pants, he gestures at the seat across the table from his MacBook. “Please, take a seat, Miss…?”
“Y/L/N,” you answer as you sit down. “Sorry, I never caught your name.”
The man takes the seat across from you. He engulfs his side of the table, the breadth of his arms and shoulders rather intimidating. You find yourself wondering what they would feel like beneath your fingers.
You squirm, ridding the thought from your mind. You definitely shouldn’t be thinking like that about the guy that’s about to give you a job interview.
He gives you a wide smile, resting his arm over the back of the chair beside him. “You can call me Clark.”
“Okay,” Clark. What a hot name. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
Clark licks his lips. “I can assure you, Miss. Y/L/N, I won’t be getting into any trouble.” He crosses his arms over his chest, fixing you with a unreadable expression. “I suppose I should start asking you some questions.”
To your surprise, he closes the lid of his laptop.
You pull your lower lip between your teeth. “Are you not going to make notes?”
Clark raises an eyebrow. You notice how his gaze has fallen to your lips, so you relax them. He comes back to your eyes.
“I find it quite rude to make notes in situations like these. It’s much more enjoyable for both parties if everyone is completely present. Don’t you agree?”
You run warm.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” you agree, playing with the hem of your skirt.
Clark’s eyes falter downwards again. “Are you nervous, Miss. Y/L/N?”
“A little.”
He gives you a soft smile. “There’s no need to be nervous. You’ll do fine. Would you mind putting your hands on the table for me?”
It’s a strange request, but you weirdly find yourself wanting to please him. You splay your hands on the table.
“Now, tell me about yourself.”
Rolling your shoulders, you quickly run through your answers in your mind. “So, I’ve worked as-”
“No,” Clark states, a commanding tone to his voice.
You hesitate. “Sorry?”
“I don’t want you to tell me about your career. Anyone can learn how to write and send emails,” Clark brings up a hand and rubs his thumb over his bottom lip. You feel like you should be more offended by what he’s said, but you just find yourself enraptured by him. “I want to know your story.”
Your mind empties. You hadn’t planned for this type of question. These were the things you spoke about with your friends, your family. Not with a future employer.
“My story?”
“Yes. I want to know about you. Your hopes. Your fears,” Clark relaxes in his seat again. “You’ve got a family, haven’t you?”
You nod.
“Great,” he says, “why don’t we start there?”
You nod again. Your family? This feels more like a date than a job interview.
You rid the thought from your mind as soon as it comes up. That is the last thing you should be thinking about right now, especially when every single part of you is on edge.
“Okay,” you breathe, “I was born in Las Vegas to my mom and dad. Pretty standard, really. I’m the youngest of two brothers.”
Clark cocks his head to the side. “So you’re the baby of the family?”
“Yes. The youngest, and the best, obviously,” you immediately flush as you say these words. What were you thinking? Your nerves are definitely getting the better of you. “Do you have any siblings?”
Clark chuckles. The sound rumbles through your chest. “I don’t think you’re supposed to ask me questions in a job interview.”
“This doesn’t feel like a normal job interview.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Clark is silent for a moment, watching you, before answering. “I have a sister. Older.”
“Are you close?”
“Yes, very. I didn’t spend a lot of time with her when I was younger. I felt more like an only child, so I wanted to actually feel like I had a sibling.”
“That’s fair. How come you didn’t spend a lot of time together?”
“She was already at college. Did you go to college?”
You nod. “Yep. Went to law school.”
“Wow,” Clark raises his eyebrows, and a wave of something rushes through you. Pleasure? You feel giddy at the thought that you’ve impressed him. “Law school. Why are you here then? A secretarial job seems quite beneath your skill set.”
You shake your head. “I’ve had some life changes recently. I need something good, consistent; full of reliable processes,” You shrug. “An administrative job seemed like the perfect fit.”
Something changes on Clark’s face again. He seems to darken. He leans forward. “I have heard the boss is quite demanding. You’d be expected to work very closely with him. Does that sound like something you could do?”
You take a breath. Is he flirting with you? “Yes. I put my all into whatever is required of me. I like to think it’s one of my strong suits.”
“Oh, really? What about short deadlines, high pressure situations?”
“That won’t be an issue.”
Clark smirks. “And what about control? Does a high level of control bother you?”
The air between you is heavy. Clark is practically holding your gaze hostage, and you can’t bring yourself to try to look away either.
“I don’t mind being told what to do,” you say, keeping your voice low. “Do you like control, Clark?”
“Oh, yes,” he replies, licking his lips. “I do love getting my own way.”
Your mind swims. You’ve never met anyone like Clark before, someone who is able to have this much of an effect on you. You feel completely exposed in front of him, and you don’t mind. If anything, you want him to delve deeper, opening you up in ways you’ve never thought of before. In more ways than one.
Who is this man?
Before you can give the idea anymore thought, the door you came through bursts open, slamming into the wall beside it. You glance over your shoulder. It’s the receptionist from earlier, and she’s been joined by a larger man in glasses. They both look flustered, with wide eyes and wild expressions.
“Mr. Kent, I’m so sorry! I gave Miss. Y/L/N the wrong directions!” The receptionist exclaims.
“I’ll take over from here,” the man in glasses adds.
You go to grab your bag. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise-”
But, as you sneak a final glance at the man opposite you, you hesitate. His attention is still completely on you, unbothered by the sudden interruption. It’s as though no one else is in the room with the two of you.
It unnerves you.
It excites you.
“No need to panic, everyone,” Clark says cooly. He finally looks away, directing his gaze behind you. “Perry, Eve, cancel all remaining interviews. Miss. Y/L/N has the job.”
Your eyes widen. What the fuck? “Th- thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Clark says politely, as though he hasn’t been mind-fucking you for the last ten minutes. “How soon can you start?”
“Whenever. Tomorrow?”
“Perfect. Eve, please take Miss. Y/L/N to sign her onboarding forms and get her an all-access keycard.”
“Yes, Mr. Kent.”
“And add her name to the list of people with access to the company credit card.”
“Of course, Mr. Kent.”
You feel like you’re in a fever dream. You need to get out of here.
Sliding your bag strap onto your shoulder, you stand, muttering another “Thank you” as you head towards the waiting blonde.
But when you get to the door, something dawns on you. You sneak a peek over your shoulder as Eve starts to lead you out.
Clark.
His last name. The panic on Eve and Perry’s faces. The power he just had to give you the job on the spot.
Lightheadedness washes over you.
Did you just have an accidental job interview with your new boss?
imagine college student! sae itoshi calmly walking to his first class of the day after morning soccer practice, annoyed that it was a mandatory public speaking class. then comes you, college student! reader who’s rushing to a cafe, balancing your bag, phone, and your first iced coffee of the day.
you hear one of your friends call your name opposite of the direction in which you’re walking, so being the bubbly person you are, you turn around and greet them back. but as soon as you turn back forward on your path, you’re colliding with someone, drenching his ironed white-collared long sleeve shirt in coffee.
embarrassed, you do the normal thing: apologize profusely, taking out a spare hand towel from your backpack to help him clean up the mess. however, since you’re in a rush, you don’t even think about taking it back until he says, “your hand towel?”
“oh yes, that’s right!” you turn back around, still apologizing earnestly, when you accidentally step on your own untied shoelace and an uneven part of the sidewalk. as you stumble forward, your knee accidentally collides with his crotch at full force. it gets worse: your heavy bag swings forward and also hits him.
college student! sae itoshi is crumpling to the ground in agony. you’re mortified, trying to help while apologizing all over again. he’s too pained to respond, just staring at you in disbelief. but after hearing “i’m so sorry!” over ten times, the corner of his lips turn upward into a smile, and a soft chuckle escapes him. is he actually amused by this?
snapping out of your thoughts, you hear someone nearby throw out a sarcastic remark at the scene you two caused. “what a way to meet.”
#cats of tumblr
#lana del rey
#horror movies
#photography
