Chapter Text
The League’s hideout was thick with a palpable tension, the kind that seemed to crawl up your spine and settle deep in your chest. The dim lighting barely illuminated the worn furniture and cracked walls, but it suited the crowd that called this place home. As Hawks pushed through the bar doors with Dabi at his side, all eyes turned toward the newest addition to their ranks. The faint creak of the door closing behind them seemed to echo louder than it should have, and every step he took forward felt heavier than the last.
Hawks’ golden eyes scanned the room instinctively, his sharp gaze taking in every detail. The scent of cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke lingered in the air. His casual smirk stayed in place, but inwardly, he was on high alert. Then his eyes landed on her.
Siren stood behind the bar, her silhouette framed by the low amber glow of the overhead light. She was an enigma, a striking contrast to the gritty surroundings. Her long, midnight-black hair cascaded down her back in silky waves, gleaming faintly like a raven’s wing. The tight red dress she wore clung to her curves with a perfection that seemed almost calculated, every line and fold accentuating her elegance. But it wasn’t the dress—or even her beauty—that captured his attention. It was her eyes. Sharp and cold, like shards of emerald ice, they met his and held him there. For a fleeting second, they seemed to strip away his carefully constructed charm, leaving him feeling exposed.
Her expression was unreadable, her posture poised and unyielding. There was no warmth, no recognition, not even the faintest flicker of interest. Just the kind of icy indifference that could crush a man’s ego in an instant. Hawks wasn’t sure if it was defiance or disdain, but it made his pulse quicken in a way he wasn’t expecting.
The magnetic pull of her presence was impossible to ignore. He had been briefed about her before joining the League—Siren was a mystery wrapped in danger, her past whispered about in hushed tones. She was known for her icy demeanor and sharp tongue, but no report could have prepared him for this moment. For the way she could make a room seem colder just by standing in it. For the challenge she posed without even uttering a word.
Pushing through the weight of her gaze, Hawks let his trademark grin slip into place as he leaned casually on the counter. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his tone warm and confident, the way it always was when he met someone new. “I’m Hawks, by the way.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Siren’s piercing green eyes held his for a fraction longer than necessary, and in that fleeting moment, he swore he caught the barest flicker of amusement—no, annoyance.
Then, without a single word, she turned her attention away from him, leaving his introduction hanging in the air like an unanswered question. Her movements were fluid as she reached for a glass, her fingers brushing against the bottles behind the bar with practiced precision. She poured his drink with an almost hypnotic elegance, her expression never wavering from its cool, detached mask.
Hawks’ grin faltered slightly, the tiniest crack forming in his usually unshakeable confidence. Women didn’t ignore him—not like this. Not completely. He wasn’t used to being dismissed so effortlessly. Yet there she was, treating him like any other patron, her focus entirely on the task at hand. The disdain in her brief glance hadn’t escaped him, though. It was there, subtle but unmistakable, like a knife edge hidden beneath velvet.
Dabi perched a few seats down with his trademark smirk, and let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest as he watched Hawks struggle to find his footing. “Tough luck, bird boy,” Dabi drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “She’s not exactly the swooning type.”
Hawks shot him a glare but quickly refocused his attention on Siren. He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “Come on,” he said, leaning in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more earnest tone. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
Siren didn’t answer. She slid his drink across the counter with the same graceful indifference, her lips pressed into a faint, almost imperceptible line. The silence that followed was louder than any words she could have spoken, and it cut deeper than any rejection he had ever faced.
For the first time in a long time, Hawks felt like the one being played—and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or craved more of it.
Siren moved behind the bar with the fluid grace of someone who was utterly unbothered by the chaos that seemed to follow Hawks wherever he went. Her fingers worked with precision, pouring drinks and wiping down the counter as if the tension in the room was nothing more than background noise. Hawks, for his part, couldn’t tear his eyes away. There was something captivating in the way she carried herself, her every movement exuding an air of control and composure that was impossible to ignore.
“You sure you want to be wasting your time on her, Birdie?” Dabi’s dry voice cut through the silence, thick with mockery. He leaned back in his chair, his scarred arms draped over the backrest as he smirked at Hawks. “Siren hates heroes almost as much as I do.”
The words landed like a blow, though Hawks didn’t let it show. His easygoing facade never wavered, but inside, he felt a pang of unease. The League had made it clear from the start that they didn’t trust him—hell, they barely tolerated him—but hearing it said so openly still stung. Especially coming from Dabi, whose sharp tongue was as cutting as his flames.
Hawks’ golden eyes flicked back to Siren, who had just set his drink in front of him. Her expression was as icy as ever, her gaze never lifting to meet his. She moved as if he weren’t even there, the epitome of indifference. A slight frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he studied her. Was this part of the act? The cold shoulder, the dismissive attitude? Or was she genuinely disgusted by him?
He took a sip of the drink she’d prepared, the bitterness spreading across his tongue and matching the frustration simmering in his chest. “Siren, huh?” he murmured, his voice low, almost to himself. He swirled the liquid in the glass absently, his eyes never leaving her. “Fits you, though. Mysterious. Cold.”
For a moment, he thought she would ignore him completely. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught it—a twitch of her lips, so fleeting he might have imagined it. It wasn’t a smile, but it was something. And her eyes—those piercing green eyes—held the faintest flicker of amusement, like a single spark hidden beneath the ice. Was she toying with him? Or was this her version of a response? Hawks wasn’t sure, but it was enough to pique his curiosity further. Siren was a puzzle, and he had never been one to back away from a challenge.
Before he could press her further, a burst of energy disrupted the tension. Toga, bright and bubbly as ever, bounded up to the counter with a radiant grin. “Thank you, Siren!” she chirped, her sing-song voice breaking through the gloom of the room. She held up a drink that Siren had prepared for her, cradling it like it was a prized possession.
And then, to Hawks’ surprise, the ice melted. Siren’s cold demeanor softened as she looked at Toga, a small but genuine smile gracing her lips. It was subtle, barely more than a quirk of her mouth, but it transformed her entire face. For the first time, Hawks saw warmth in her eyes, a gentle affection that had been completely absent when she looked at him.
“You spoil her, you know,” Dabi muttered from his seat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He took another swig of his drink and leaned back, one leg crossed lazily over the other. “She’s already annoying enough without you encouraging it.”
Siren turned her head toward Dabi, her smile shifting into something playful. “Well,” she said, her tone light and teasing, “she does deserve a little sweetness now and then.” Her voice carried a musical quality, soft but with an edge that hinted at the sharp wit beneath.
Toga beamed at the compliment, practically glowing as she leaned over the counter to chatter about whatever popped into her mind. Hawks, however, was still reeling. That smile—so genuine, so different from the cold mask she had shown him—had left him momentarily stunned. It was like seeing sunlight break through storm clouds, brief and blindingly beautiful.
Dabi snorted, clearly amused by Hawks’ reaction. “Careful, Birdie,” he said with a low chuckle. “You’ll hurt yourself trying to figure her out.”
Hawks ignored him, his gaze fixed on Siren. Her attention was fully on Toga now, her laughter soft and melodic as she listened to the girl’s ramblings.
It was a side of her he hadn’t expected, a crack in the icy exterior that made him all the more determined to uncover what lay beneath. She was a contradiction, a woman who could freeze the room with a glance and melt hearts with a smile. And Hawks, for all his confidence and charm, was completely out of his depth.
The warmth that had softened Siren’s face while she interacted with Toga vanished as quickly as it appeared. By the time the blonde girl scampered off with her drink and a delighted squeal, Siren’s expression was once again a mask of cool indifference. Her movements were precise and mechanical as she wiped down the counter and resumed her work, not sparing Hawks so much as a glance.
Hawks stood there, drink in hand, his golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
He wasn’t used to this—being ignored, being dismissed so completely. Most people gravitated toward him like moths to a flame, drawn by his charm and easy confidence. But Siren? She seemed immune, and it was throwing him off his game.
Dabi, ever the spectator of chaos, leaned back lazily in his chair, his smirk practically dripping with smug amusement. He took a long, slow sip of his drink before speaking, his tone as dry as ash. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, Birdie. She’s not impressed with your charm, no matter how hard you try.”
The dig hit its mark, though Hawks didn’t let it show. He turned his gaze to Dabi, offering a lopsided grin that was more deflection than genuine amusement. “Guess I like a challenge,” he said smoothly, though the words carried an edge of frustration. His eyes flicked back to Siren, who was now focused on cleaning a glass with meticulous care. She moved with an air of calm dominance, as though the world around her was inconsequential.
And maybe to her, it was.
The more Hawks watched her, the more questions clawed at his mind. What was it about her that made her so untouchable? Why was she so utterly unimpressed by him? And—most troubling of all—why did he care so much?
As the night dragged on, Hawks found himself unable to look away. Siren drifted through the room like a phantom, her presence commanding yet distant. There was something about her, something deeply unsettling, that tugged at the edges of his mind. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that alone was enough to make anyone pause. No, it was something else—something he couldn’t quite name.
Her beauty, though, was undeniable. Her dark hair, wild yet elegant, tumbled down her back like a cascade of shadows.
The way she carried herself, with her head held high and her movements deliberate, exuded a quiet power that was almost hypnotic. Her piercing green eyes were like shards of ice, cutting through him with every passing glance. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful—it was the way her beauty was untouchable, like a rose behind glass. Look, but don’t touch. Admire, but don’t approach.
Hawks had always been able to weave his words into golden threads, binding hearts with his charm. But with Siren, his words fell flat. No smile, no teasing remark, no playful flirtation could penetrate the fortress she had built around herself. And that only fueled his obsession.
Every time those cold green eyes met his, it was like a silent challenge. A puzzle he couldn’t solve. A door he couldn’t unlock. And yet, there was something deeper beneath the surface—something he couldn’t quite place. A shadow in her gaze, a weight in her movements. It was as if she carried a secret so heavy it had frozen her heart solid.
Dabi’s earlier words echoed in his mind. Siren hates heroes almost as much as I do. The disdain in her demeanor made sense now, but it didn’t explain the unease Hawks felt every time he looked at her. There was something more, something darker, lurking beneath her icy exterior.
He took another sip of his drink, his golden eyes never leaving her. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had made a mistake by aligning himself with the League. They were dangerous, yes, but Siren? She was a different kind of danger. The kind that drew you in without you realizing you were falling.
Hawks couldn’t shake the feeling that Siren wasn’t just untouchable—she was hiding something. Something that even Dabi, with his sharp eyes and sharper tongue, hadn’t seen. And Hawks was determined to find out what it was, no matter how long it took or how much it cost him.
Because breaking through Siren’s icy shell wasn’t just a challenge anymore.
It was an obsession.