Hate To Love You... (Hawks/Keigo Takami x Reader)

Chapter 8

I just couldn't win today...

Not only did the news of having to be my high school bully's personal makeup artist ruin my day, but there was something else. Snotty, uptight models who think that the sun rises and sets on them and everyone else is beneath them. I had to redo this models makeup three times because she smudged the eyeliner. Telling me that it 'wasn't good enough' so she ruined the eyeliner to make a point. That wasn't being a critical person. That was just plain spiteful.

Then, to add salt to the wound, another model that I had to work with wouldn't get off her phone! She refused to even look up so I could even begin her makeup. Somehow, Instagram has more important things to mull over than her actual job. God knows how. All I wanted to do was finish her look. That would have taken me five minutes, maybe fifteen. That's all. But, no, look at your phone to add to my frustrations to then ruin my already shitty day.

I just had no patience...

All I wanted to do was go home, get in my sweats, watch tv, cuddle with my dog and eat junk food until I pass out. That was my heaven. Was that unhealthy? Yes. Should I do it? No. Did I want to do it? Yes, very very very much. I could feel the day drag on. It didn't go by quickly like I hoped it would. It was as if someone sensed that I was having a bad day and wanted to make it as long and as sufferable as possible! And to top it all off... It was raining! So I couldn't fly home and get back as quickly as I wanted to!

I had to walk in the rain without a bloody umbrella!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I return home. My hair soaked into my skull. My clothes practically a second skin with how drenched they were. My hands and face feeling numb as I fumble through my bag for my keys, my teeth clattering together as I shakily unlock the door and push myself in. Slamming the door shut. Panting to get my body back to its normal temperature, leaning against the radiator as I shed my coat and hang it up on the hook. My feet shaking as I slip them out of their shoes.

"You look like a wet rat," My sister bluntly points out, arching an amused brow as she nibbles on a chocolate bar, wearing her satin pyjamas with her hair scraped into a messy bun. Giggling when I throw my soaked socks toward her before shrieking as one of them slaps her in the face with a satisfying slap, "Ew! You weirdo! Don't throw them at me!"

"Whatever," I hum softly, dropping my bag onto the floor, not even caring as some contents spill onto the carpet, heading upstairs to my bedroom to get into something warmer.

"Woah... what's wrong?" She asks teetering after me, leaning against the doorway as I slip my blouse off and cringe as it heavily slaps into the carpet, "Did something happen at work?"

"Hmm, you could say that," I reply bitterly, slipping my jeans off as I walk toward my dresser and pulls the drawers out, filing through my comfy clothes to find what I want, "Didn't exactly have the best of days,"

"What happened?" She asks softly, arching a brow as I throw pyjamas and baggy hoodies and sweatpants to the side. Unable to find what I want, "(Y/n), what's wrong? You're never this skittish..."

"I got the promotion," I reply with a soft sigh, running my fingers through my soaked hair, shaking my head with a groan, "I got the promotion,"

"And that's bad?" She asks incredulously, almost as if I was being ungrateful (don't get me wrong I was over the moon that I was getting promoted but it wasn't that part that got me down), "I'm sorry... I thought promotions were a good thing? Like... you get a raise don't you? Or have they put you in cleaning toilets?"

"No... it's just... that's not what I'm upset about," I explain with a sigh, slumping against the side of my bed as I bury my head in my hands, taking a deep breath with a small frustrated groan, "It's who I'm working with,"

"And I'm guessing it isn't Fatgum," she says arching a brow, giggling as she points toward the radiator which held the article of clothing I so desperately wanted to wear, "Your Fatgum onesie is there, you idiot, I can't believe you bought that,"

"No, it isn't Fatgum! But it would be so cool if it were!" I whine, snatching the Fatgum onesie from the radiator before putting it on, snuggling into the warm fabric, "And it was a practical purchase, I can't sleep when it's cold and this onesie helps me,"

Anyone could see that, I was a very serious fan of the BMI Hero : Fatgum. As soon as I was able to purchase my own things, the first thing I bought was a Fatgum onesie. Then I began my rather expensive journey of buying Fatgum merchandise. Possessing a mug, a blanket, a stuffed Fatgum plush that sits on my bed, a Fatgum pillow, a onesie, a Fatgum hoodie and a Fatgum keyring. I just loved the guy. He was so sweet and so kind. And squishy! Honestly. I just wanted to give him a really big hug and get engulfed by the sheer squishiness of his quirk.

Obviously, my sister doesn't see why I like Fatgum so much. But she has a body pillow of Eraserhead!

So she can't talk.

"Totally not a reason to fangirl and add to your Fatgum memorabilia," she says arching a brow toward me as she follows me toward the kitchen where I get my Fatgum mug and begin making myself a hot chocolate, "So who do you have to work with?"

"Keigo..." I say softly, avoiding eye contact as I hear her breath hitch, I could feel her eyes boring into my back as I stir the hot milk with the cocoa powder.

"You're kidding... Keigo?... as in..." she trails off and gasps when I nod, shaking her head as she slumps against the doorway and sighs, "No wonder your day was shitty... are you serious? Did you try to change it?"

"Yeah! Dozens of times!" I exclaim looking toward her, taking a small sip of my hot chocolate before grabbing the whipped cream and squirting a large swirl on top, "Apparently he loved my designs... I tried to see if I could switch models but they weren't having it... said who knows when I'll get another opportunity like this..."

"So you're gonna have to work with him?" She asks, completely shocked, running her fingers through her hair with a small sigh, "But he made your life miserable... he — he stole your bracelet that grandma gave you... why would you work with him?"

"I really want this job... it's been my dream to be a personal makeup artist..." I hum with a sight, shaving chocolate over the top of the whipped cream before topping it with marshmallows and a flake, "I can't let him stop me from living my life how I want... so I'm gonna have to work with him, big deal... people work with others they hate all the time... this is no different,"

"I hope you know what you're doing," she says softly and rubs my back as I lean into her, resting my head on her shoulder with an exasperated sigh, "Don't let him get to you, he's probably still a man child after all..."

"Yeah... I just need to get through this," I tell her with a small smile, pulling out takeout menus making her eyes sparkle, "How about we get some takeout?"

"Sounds good, as long as we don't have fried chicken,"...

"Pfft, I was thinking something along the lines of Katsudon,"...