Game of Traitors | A BNHA Fanfiction

What The Hell?

A/N: Hi again! I'm surprised I've actually written this much... Twenty nine chapters... Thank you guys so much for the support. Thank you so much for 5k views! I never expected to get this much attention on a story I started writing during quarantine to escape watching the news.

Song for this Chapter: What the Hell – Avril Lavigne

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The Halftime Show.

A celebration of how far we've come as competitors. A grand party full of music, food, dancing, extravagant outfits, exquisite debauchery and hopefully for me...

...the blossoming of a beautiful romance.

Well, I may be getting a bit ahead of myself. You may think I'm lame.

The thought only brings a flutter of excitement from the butterflies battering the walls of my stomach. My eyes narrow dreamily, my vision of the real world foggy but that of my enamored fantasies is as clear as the skies in the Deviance Dimension.

Walking through the hallways once again, I stop in front of the brown door of Hawks's luxurious palace styling room. I'll be trying on my outfit today, and the thought it makes me more elated. Thank God Hawks has good taste.

I knock on the door, the feeling of the wood against my fingers flowing softly through my body as I take a deep breath.

Huh? Is he not here?

The door clicks, being pulled aside and as my eyes widen looking at the figure opening the door.

It certainly isn't Hawks, that's for sure.

My eyes fall on a man with the bottom half of his face burnt and of a burgundy color, connected to intact skin with thick, silver staples. His bright blue eyes peer down at me, his spiky black hair puffs out in all different directions and his arm holds the door open. He stands there relaxed, biting his lip. "'Sup," he says.

I nervously raise my hand to wave to him. "H-hi," I mumble sheepishly. "Where's Hawks? Have you seen him anywhere? Tell me this is the right room. This place is already huge enoug–"

"Nah, you're at the right place. Keigo's busy designing the pink haired girls' outfit for the Halftime show and stuff since Present Mic's sick."

I simply nod, looking down and scratching the back of my head as my foot taps the ground. "So...who are you and how do you know Hawks?" I ask.

The man lets out a chuckle, his eyes narrowing and crinkling at the sides as he smiles. "The name's Dabi. Hawks is my husband."

My lips form an 'o' as my eyebrows raise. This is the famous 'Dabi' he keeps talking about. I'm just going to say that he's not at all how I'd envisioned. I didn't expect him to be so severely burnt.

"Oh, he's told me a lot about you," I mumble sheepishly as I play with my red sweater sleeve. I take a deep breath and my eyes begin to dart down the hallways, "In about how long do you think he'll be back? I kind of need to discuss something important with him and stuff."

Dabi lets out a relaxed huff, gesturing for me to come inside the styling room. "You can talk to me about it. You scared? I would be too if I almost kissed my obvious crush on national television."

Can people stop talking about that?

My eyes grow to the size of saucers, my heart beginning to pound against my chest as small breaths leave my lips. "Uh, what does that have to do with anything? I just want to talk to Hawks, but since he's not here, I'm just gonna go–"