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Izuku was shaking in his seat. He had an interview with his dream record label, United Artists Records. He had been stunned to get the email two nights ago requesting he meet with Manager Shouta Aizawa and Sound Engineer Hizashi Yamada at his earliest convenience. He was thrilled and confused. They were definitely interviewing him for a writing position, but he knew he hadn’t applied. No positions had been posted and he checked every morning. Oh well. He wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth and Ochako had been so excited once she realized he was just panicking and not being attacked. Perks of living with a UFC trainer.

“Mr. Midoriya, thank you for coming in on such short notice,” Aizawa looked more like a tired hobo than a manager was Izuku’s first thought. Then Izuku remembered the schedules he’d seen leaked online of some of his favorite artists (and his father’s frequent trips away) and silently withdrew his judgment. Yamada had been overly enthusiastic, and insisted Izuku call him Mic.

“I-it’s an hon-honor to be here, s-sir,” Izuku stumbled and blushed. Why was his stutter flaring up right this second?

Aizawa only raised an eyebrow and looked down at the papers in front of him. “I’m going to be honest; I think these questions are bullshit. I found your Tube channel. Decent enough stuff, but by this point old and circulated and no longer relevant. I’m also pretty sure you’re Hisashi’s kid, so you have an idea of what kind of hell this business actually is,” Izuku’s face burned. He prayed his father hadn’t gotten him this interview. They hadn’t spoken regularly since his parents had finally divorced when he was 13. “I only have two questions: what instruments do you play at what level and what do you have that’s new?”

Izuku was frozen. What the hell kind of a job interview was this? He blinked after a few seconds too long and answered quickly. He could play the piano, keyboard, and guitar at a level 4; the violin and bass at a level 2; and he had begun taking formal drum lessons earlier in the year. At an arched eyebrow from Aizawa, Izuku explained that he liked recording his own backing tracks. Mic perked up at that but had remained silent beyond his introduction. Once it was clear no other musical instruments were going to be unveiled, Mic held out his hand for the notebook peeking out of Izuku’s bag. It was handed over with shaking hands. Izuku was glad he brought his finished work and not his messy scribbles.

“Are these pieces in progress?” Mic finally asked, flipping steadily through the pages.

“N-no. These are f-f-finished,” Izuku paled slightly at the question, but Mic just handed the book to Aizawa for his perusal.

“Not bad, kid. Definitely on brand with what’s popular on the radio right now. There’s just… something missing,” Aizawa seemed almost bored as he handed Izuku back the notebook.

Izuku flushed, feeling shame that he thought he’d be good enough to get a job at UA. “What’s missing, sir? So I can improve,” he asked earnestly. He wanted so badly to do better. He loved writing and composing.

Aizawa and Mic both looked at him for a moment, as if they were weighing their words. A quick glance that looked like a conversation and Mic said “Feelings, little listener.”



Izuku left the towering building with his shoulders low, but head high. He’d managed to ask Mic some composition questions since Mic had asked him about some of the tracks he’d written. He’d planned on a quick coffee and pastry to celebrate, but now it felt more like cheering up. He knew there was a café around here somewhere… Ah! There it was.

Waiting in line was the worst. The café was packed and Izuku had forgotten his earbuds on his desk. He groaned again as the third customer in a row ordered something complicated and off-menu. Izuku couldn’t even enjoy the eye candy sitting in the booth a little ways ahead, he was so frustrated. It was a shame. The blond one was hot as hell, definitely worked out, but not as much as the redhead beside him. The redhead looked a little too built, in Izuku’s opinion. It was fine. The line was moving again.

As soon as Izuku stepped up to order, his phone chimed. He was confused. Ochako was at the gym, and his boyfriend, Yo, was at work still. He shrugged. Probably a marketing email. He ordered his mocha with whipped cream and chocolate dusting and a chocolate croissant, paid, and went to sit down. Once he settled himself into a chair, he grabbed his phone to see if that brand that he liked was having one of their good sales.

A quick glance at the email preview makes Izuku’s heart stop.

Izuku Midoriya, it is our pleasure to offer you a position as a Songwriter under…

Someone was screaming and a chair banged on the ground and people were… looking at him? Oh. He was screaming. That was his chair. The sudden realization had him stuttering an apology to the barista he scared, and he bolted out the door with his drink and pastry in hand.



At home, in his apartment with his best friend since middle school, in his room covered in rock star All Might’s merch, Izuku screamed into the couch cushions as Ochako whooped and danced around the living room.

“Deku! This is amazing! And the pay! You’ll never ask me to cover rent again!” Ochako cackled as she dropped to sit on Izuku’s legs.

“I wouldn’t ask you to cover rent at mine and Yo’s place, Ocha, you know that,” Izuku lifts his head to glare at the deceptively heavy women crushing his femurs.

Ochako makes a face at the mention of Yo, and Izuku’s impending move out, but remains silent. She shakes her head, claps her hands, and jumps up. Izuku whines at the sudden pressure change on his legs but sits up anyway. He eyes her nervously, not liking that glint. That was her going-out glint.


Earlier that day

“You’ve reached Endeavor Records Producer, Yo Shindo! I can’t make it to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you!”

Izuku sighed. That was the fifth time in three hours he’d been sent right to voicemail when he called Yo. He swears he didn’t think his boyfriend was in a meeting. Maybe it was an emergency. He sighed again then perked up as he remembered Ochako’s shift at the gym was over. She’ll be excited!

"Hey-yo, Ochako here!” the bubbly brunette sang down the phone.

Izuku laughed at her signature greeting. “Ocha! Remember the interview I had today?”  

“Deku, sweetheart, honeybear,” Izuku snorted at the pet names. “Who in the world would forget that you had an interview at THE UA today? It certainly wasn’t our plant, our fridge, or the closet you spent two hours muttering in front of,” Izuku flushed. He wanted to make a good impression! “So how did it go?” Ochako finally asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“It went okay enough,” Izuku could barely keep the grin off of his face.

“Just okay? Do you want me to swing by the store for some of the cheap wine and good ice cream?”

“Ocha, I think it’s the good wine and cheap ice cream.”

“Nope! Definitely the cheap wine and good ice cream.”

“Well, make it the good wine AND the good ice cream! I got the job!” Izuku can’t stop himself from screaming in the hallway of their apartment. He doesn’t mean to, he swears.

Ochako’s answering scream is loud enough he has to pull his phone away from his ear to open the door. When she bursts in the door twenty minutes later, they start screaming again and jumping up and down.


Ochako pushes him to his bedroom, and he sighs. There was no stopping her once she got the going-out glint. He was, over his protests, stuffed into a black pair of skinny jeans Ochako insisted made his ass look sinful and felt two sizes too small, a black mesh crop top with a red bandeau underneath, and his third favorite heeled boots, red with black accents. Once a promise was extracted (extorted) from him to put on black eyeliner, some highlighter, and a black lip, Ochako bounced her way into her own room to change.

“Really, Deku, I don’t see why you would want to move out! We’re so close to everything!” Ochako yells from the bathroom where she’s putting the last touches on her elaborate makeup.

“Yo and I have been together four years, Ocha! It’s time!” Izuku huffs. They’ve been having this conversation for a couple months now since Yo asked Izuku if he wanted to get a place together.

“Our lease isn’t even up for like eight more months!”

“Ocha, that just gives us more time to find a place that suits us both.”

“You do remember that Endeavor Records and UA are on opposite sides of the city, right? One, probably yours, or both of your commutes are going to suck ass and you know it! Just stay with your best friend a while longer!”

“Ochako! I’m moving in with Yo and that’s final!”

Ochako is about to begin another round of protests, but her phone dings as she finishes putting on her shoes, letting them know their cab arrived.

“We’ll talk about this later. For now, Club Plus Ultra to celebrate you getting your dream job!”



Izuku feels the bass the second he steps out of the cab. Ochako waves to the bounder on duty, a silver-haired mountain of a man he’s pretty sure trains with Ochako at Gunhead’s. His memory is proven correct as she bounces over to greet him with a loud “Tetsutetsu!” and a kiss on both cheeks. The pair chat animatedly for a moment before Izuku and Ochako are waved in, to the audible displeasure of the rapidly growing line. Ochako just laughs and says the power of connections is strong.

They step inside and immediately Izuku clocks the DJ, DJ Earphones, a whiz on the tables and a master at manipulating the dance floor. She’s his favorite DJ when he goes out, but she’s not a regular on Plus Ultra’s schedule. Izuku thinks it’s a damn shame. The regular rotation lacks the necessary flare for club DJing. He eyes the dance floor. No promising partners are standing out, but that’s fine. He’s happily taken, and Ochako will dance with him.

Ochako pulls him towards the bar, eager to get some celebratory drinks. She waves at one of the bartenders (seriously, how many of these guys train at Gunhead’s?) and begins doing the dancefloor shuffle. Izuku is already a little sweaty and has been groped at least twice by the time they make it to a clear spot on the bar. He grouches this fact at Ochako, who only shakes her head and smiles at the bartender she seems to know. He misses this one’s name, but he does look familiar. Izuku is sure that if he checks her Gram, he’ll find this man next to Ochako, either shirtless or nearly shirtless. Ochako orders them both something full of liquor and fruity. A couple of Amaretto sours appear in front of them, and the friendly bartender points down the bar to a couple of men with slicked back hair and poorly placed piercings. Not one to turn down free drinks, Izuku downs it, then promptly turns to ignore the men for the rest of the night.

Except right then he wishes he hadn’t because on the opposite side of the bar is his boyfriend, making out with and groping up-and-coming idol, the newest talent signed at Endeavor Records, Camie Utsushimi.