#honest to god need to have my affairs in order come my mid thirties because. well.

[depresseddepot]

his name is bodie

[ochakourarakah]

long way down to the underground | chapter 1

Summary: It’s an old tale, except…Eurydice was already waist-deep in the Underworld when he met Orpheus.

Notes: Hawks x G/N Composer! Reader

Story: previous | next 

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This is the thirty-seventh (thirty-eighth? fortieth?) document you had to sign with your already cramping hand and you’re seriously considering tossing them all into a dumpster fire if fire wasn’t the reason you were in this mess to begin with.

The next few weeks after the accident (arson by some gang, apparently) are spent getting everything back on track.

You did not expect this much paperwork to come with it. 

Ugh.

You lean back and stretch in your chair, wincing at the audible pops your back made as you did, tearing your eyes away from your desktop screen.

With relocation still underway, you were instructed to work from home until further notice, corresponding through emails until a satellite office could be established.

It wasn’t really a problem; you lived alone and you had your own recording set-up if you wanted to work on a demo. Most of your work files were backed up on a cloud (thank God for modern tech, you probably just overreacted the day of the fire) and you still had basic instruments in case you wanted to arrange something.

You sigh. 

Okay, maybe your apartment was still on the small side (struggling musician and all) and what soundproofing you had didn’t block out everything (from construction machines across the street to neighbors fucking), but it was still your apartment. 

You had fridge magnets from the places you’ve been all over Japan. Framed and signed posters and album covers lined your walls. A bulletin board dedicated to photos, tickets, backstage passes and other paraphernalia from singers and other musicians you’ve worked with. 

Furnished just enough. Music is always playing, whether it was your own or someone else’s. Cluttered, cozy and lived in.  

It was home.

.

.

.

At home as you were, though, there were still insurance claims to receive, files to sift through, warranty policies to review and the last few weeks of work to salvage if not work on.

.

.

.

There was a whole orientation on this when you were first hired. 

Emergency Response and Recuperation. 

You should’ve known better. 

.

.

.

You glance at the to-do list you hastily wrote up in your planner, grimacing that the unmarked checkboxes still outnumbered the checked ones. 

.

.

.

Ugh.

You really should’ve known better. 

The clock on your phone screen told you that it was roughly half past five.

You groan again, getting off your office chair. 

A much-needed break was in order. 

You save whatever files were open on your laptop before shutting it down. 

And dinner too, if you could help it. 

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Another one of the perks your apartment had to offer was that the complex was within walking distance of Fukuoka’s shopping district, giving you a variety of places to eat.

You take your time on the streets, earphones in and music up as you make your way and map out your night. 

You’ll take your time with dinner, and finish the reimbursement form for your work laptop then call it a night. Tomorrow morning you’d follow up on Ishikawa from accounting and maybe add to the latest song you were writing, if inspiration allowed for it. Maybe get some groceries later this week, too.

Your eyes narrow at the crowd clogging up the sidewalk on the other side of the road. 

Rallentando.

Maybe there was a hero?

And it took you tiptoeing to see above someone’s head to catch a glimpse of crimson wings.

Oh.

He was on patrol. 

In your area. 

Even with your earphones on, you can still hear a few feminine squeals and childish cries, excited voices from people of all ages as they surround the Number Two Hero.

You glance at the scene a beat more before continuing your walking, shrugging off the idea of joining the fray. 

A tempo.

You may be grateful to Hawks for saving your life, but you were busy and hungry and not in the mood to wade through all the people for someone who wouldn’t even remember you. 

It was all in a day’s work, you recall telling yourself that day.

.

.

.

Did his job also entail calling you Songbird, though?

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.

.

You stepped into the alley that led to your favorite izakayas in the district. It was thankfully empty, and from the restaurant’s windows, you can tell they weren’t as occupied either.

Your steps go from andante to moderato. 

Then there was a gust of wind and a shadow overhead. 

Caesura.

And then Hawks was right before you.

You manage to take off one of your earbuds in time to hear him say, “Hey, Songbird.”

You blink at him. “You remember me?”

“Of course, it’s only been a few weeks since you jumped out of a building and into my arms,” 

If you were flustered at that, you don’t show it. “Right,” You look around. Maybe he had to check out all the alleys before he could call it a day. 

The alley was still empty. 

He’ll be off in no time. 

You give him a smile. “Thanks again for that, by the way.”

He waves you off. “Don’t mention it,” 

For a moment, you just look at him. You’ve only seen his face in short glimpses, in passing billboards and magazine ads, maybe even the occasional skippable YouTube commercial. 

(Which you, admittedly, have opted to skip more often than not.)

And on the day of the fire, you maybe saw him up close for one, two minutes before he took you to the ground then sped off into the sky?

Now he seems more relaxed, hands tucked into his pockets. His wings were another story completely, though. 

They seem bigger, even if they were folded behind him. His feathers look plush and supple. 

If he noticed you staring, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he gives you a lazy grin. Almost cheeky. 

“You work for Hayashi Records, right?”

You snap your gaze back to his face and nod. “Yeah,”

Were you caught staring? Most definitely yes. 

But he’s probably used to the attention, anyways. 

“So what do you do?” he cocks his head to the side.

“I’m a composer,” You were about to add to the answer when you realize that he didn’t leave right away like you thought. 

He was still here. 

Why? The street looked pretty safe. 

“Do you do anything else?”

You don’t understand why he was still talking to you. 

Didn’t your acquaintance end as soon as the villain attack was over?

You nod anyways. “I’m a composer, but I’ve done just about everything, really.”

You busy yourself by unplugging your earphones and tucking them into your pocket with your phone.

Is he always like this? Did he always follow up on the people he saved?

When you look back up, you ask him, “Don’t you have other hero things to do?”

He only gives you that grin again. “I do, but I have some time to kill.” he gestures around him. “And besides, this place is the last area on my patrol.” 

“I see,” you say slowly. 

How the heck were you supposed to respond to that?

You clear your throat. “I’ve been working from home all day. Emergency Response and Recuperation and all that. A lot of paperwork,”

You’re rambling. 

“I got hungry and my head was starting to ache so I’m taking a break for dinner.” you nod over to the izakaya. “One of my favorite spots.”

Oh my god, kill me now. 

Hawks raises a brow. “You were going to dinner? Well so am I.”

Wait. 

Is he..?

“How about it?”

He is. 

Holy shit. 

You barely manage to follow behind him as he strides over to the izakaya. 

He even opens the door for you. 

“After you, Songbird.” 

You walk in the restaurant in a bit of a daze. 

Who were you, that you were about to share a meal with the Number Two Hero?

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It’s after you’ve settled into a private booth and ordered that Hawks spoke again. 

“So how long have you worked under Hayashi?”

“About two years,” you take a sip of your water. “That’s including my unpaid internships,”

Then you’re both silent. 

You swallow, and the air feels like a chord that was a microtone off. 

Not completely off key, but not right either. 

Just...off. Strange. 

A little jarring.

Hawks must’ve noticed that you were uncomfortable because he shifts in his seat. 

“Be honest, did I come on too strong?”

And here you thought you were the one overstepping your boundaries. 

You shake your head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m just surprised that you’d have dinner with a random person you rescued.” 

“I uhh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m actually familiar with your work,”

“What?”

“I thought I recognized your name somewhere so I looked it up. You worked with Ayapeta on an album?”

He was a fan. 

Again, holy shit.

He looks up at you. It’s then that you realize his usual visor was on the table. “I’m gonna ask you again, am I coming on too strong?”

You shake your head. “I just never really had a fan approach me before,” 

You were far too used to the singers getting all the credit for the songs you wrote. 

It actually feels nice.

The waiter arrives with your orders and you give a small thanks, getting your bowl and chopsticks.

“Itadakimasu.” The two of you say in unison.

A due.

You smile at him before digging in.

Yes, the ramen you ordered was exactly what you needed.

You look across the table to see the yakitori skewer he was helping himself to. “Isn’t that cannibalism?” you ask after swallowing.

Hawks stops mid-bite. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m a hawk.”

You shrug. “Still a bird.” 

He chuckles. “What can I say, chicken’s pretty good.” 

You roll your eyes at him, and taking another good slurp from your ramen bowl.

Hawks adds, “I try to avoid chicken wings if I can help it, though. Can’t be too cannibalistic now can we?” 

After swallowing, you meet his eyes from across the table.

Amabile.

And this time, you chuckle along with him. 

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Hawks was a celebrity. You know this much. 

While you weren’t aware of any dating scandals or affairs on his end of the showbiz spectrum, you knew that he was considered an eligible bachelor by the press. 

So what was he doing here with you? 

The curiosity gnawed at you so insistently that, when the tab’s been paid and you’re out of the restaurant, you ask him, “Why’d you come along with me?”

He stops in his tracks. “Can’t I share a meal with someone who seemed nice?”

You purse your lips. “You barely even know me.”

Granted, even if you were a villain, you were pretty sure he could beat you in a fight anytime. 

The silent dissonance is back again.

You watch as he nods his head, just a little bit. “I feel like I’ve always known you.” 

You raise a brow. “Do you say that to everyone you hit on?”

“Nah,” He shakes his head. “Only for songbirds that fall into my arms.” He starts walking again. You follow suit as you roll your eyes, retort ready and then he speaks again.

“How about it, we go on one date?”

You furrow your brows. “Wasn’t this a date?”

He grins, shaking his head again. “Close, but no cigar.” he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sadly my favorite place burned down in the last Nomu incident.”

You nodded, remembering seeing it on the news the day it happened. You watched the carnage unfold from bay windows in your studio building, then you were told to evacuate to the lower floors before the fighting escalated any further. 

Maybe I didn’t have it so bad...

“But I know of another place I can take you.”

You smile at him. 

Then a phone rings. 

But it isn’t yours. 

You hear Hawks curse under his breath. “Hey listen Songbird, I’ll be busy the next few days and I bet you will be too with your Emergency Recuperation whatever,” he winces as his phone kept ringing. 

“But I’ll come find you when I’m free so we could set a date.”

You barely stutter out an affirmation when Hawks spreads out his wings. “I’ll see you soon, Songbird.” 

And then he was off. 

Leaving you staring up at the sky yet again. 

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You walk home in a daze.

Did tonight really just happen? 

You shake your head. Maybe this was just a one-time thing. 

That seemed about right. 

You were just in the area. 

He’d probably forget when he rescues someone else. 

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This doesn’t stop you from blushing all the way home, though.

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All thoughts of Hawks are banished when you get back to work for the next few days. 

It was all probably just by chance. One of those once-in-a lifetime things that might as well happen to you because real life was weird that way. 

And real life was also taxing because Ishikawa hasn’t looked over your statements yet and you were missing a few more requirements for your insurance claim. 

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A few days later, you find yourself trudging home from the grocery store as planned.

You're carrying a whole tray of eggs in one hand while your other groceries sit tight in the reusable bag hanging off your other shoulder.

Even though the night is peaceful, you were still stressed.

You still had some forms to fill up and lost equipment to canvass for and a meeting with one of the bands and-

“Hey there, Songbird,”

-and you yelp at the voice, dropping the carton and spilling eggs all over the pavement. 

You look up at the sight of an equally shocked Winged Hero.

Oh. 

He didn’t just not forget about you. 

He came.

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A/N: in case the whole basis for this fic isn’t enough to go by, i’m also a musical nerd. i’ll try updating this weekly, as well. 

thanks for reading!