#DO U EVER THINK ABT HOW TO THE REST OF THE WORLD. BELOVED HIGH SCHOOL CELEB AKECHI JUST. DISAPPEARED
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bloodysparklez · 5 months ago
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i will remember you, even if the world moves on
(inspired by this tweet:)
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h2bakugou · 3 years ago
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Yes yes yes yesyesyesyesyes ok!! So then can I request present mic? Doing anything??? No I’m kidding I do actually have a prompt. I was thinking abt mic’s radio show and specifically, if he had an s/o who wrote music. Bc u know he would help them produce it and then play it nonstop on air aaaaaa
a/n: yes!! present mic love!! i love him so much i swear! <3 he has my heart dkdkmn this is such a cute request please- i apologize for the late posting!!
summary: you're an ambitious, gleeful, songbird at heart, and though you're quirkless, you've captivated the heart of the music-loving, radio show hosting, loud, sweetheart, present mic!
key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk
warnings: swearing, fluff
word count: 1.3k
;cut for length;
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You started as an intern. A beaming smile on your lips most days, always happy to be in the studio with Mic when he was teaching you the ins and outs of radio hosting.
You'd majored in music business, the end goal in mind of writing and releasing your own music, though most of your plans had fallen through, the only opportunity to get you back on your feet after college being this deal you couldn't pass up.
Co-hosting with Present Mic on his own radio show.
The offer had actually been given to you by one of your superiors at the studio you worked at, having seen your optimism when it came to writing music and your love of music in general.
They wished you good luck and would always welcome you back if things didn't go so well. But you kept your head up high and marched into that studio ready to take on the world alongside the loud blonde.
And down the line, three years later, you were surprised to say the least.
"Your coffee as usual." Hizashi sets down the patriotic blue U.A. thermos sent out to the teachers at the beginning of the year. Since you'd practically moved in 'unofficially' with Mic, unofficially because you weren't technically allowed to stay due to the fact you didn't work for the school, rather employed by Mic himself in his private studio, but you were the tiny exception since you did technically work in the school.
"Thanks! Hey, I was wondering if you could check this new thing I've been working on and give me some criticism, it's just a rough draft, the lyrics just kind of came to me after a shot or two at Vlad's birthday party the other night." You giggled as you tossed him the flash drive containing your latest project, the sensitive information contained on the tiny disc landing in the palm of your boyfriend's hands.
"Another song? You're blessing my ears so early in the morning. I'm dreaming! Pinch me!" He teases. Mic's been the biggest supporter of your music since he overheard the pipes you had.
You'd had that kind of night the second week of your internship, battling the oncoming hangover after drinking with your cool new pro-hero teacher friends, your thoughts turning to lyrics as you worked in the studio, the only light being the small lamp on the side Mic kept when he worked late too.
He'd forgotten his room keys in the studio again, something you realized he did often and as he stopped by to pick them back up, that's when he heard you. You sounded so angelic, almost as if you were some sort of angel.
At first, he thought maybe it was just a recording or some sort of dare he say, Melodyne filter while you were messing around in the mic at night.
But you weren't. Your authentic voice shell-shocked him, and he sort of listened to you the entire night until you nearly pissed your pants turning around and seeing him.
“Yeah, it’s nothing special really-” You’re back to reality as Mic quickly has his headphones over his ears, a large grin on his lips as he listens, his fingers tapping away to the beat already.
You work on other tasks, filtering through requests and putting them in the queue while Mic listens to your song, his heart pounding. You were so talented and he’d wish you’d give yourself a bit more credit. You have what it takes to make it big, and he’d support you every step of the way.
“You know with this and the other tracks you have, you’d have enough to push out an EP. All you need is a bit of marketing and producing, and I’d be more than willing to help!” Mic smiles, wheeling over to you, pressing an encouraging peck to your cheek.
“It sounds great, but who would wanna listen to what I write?” You giggle, toggling an advertisement as you glance over at the blonde.
“How about this, You let me help you, I’ll spread the trial around here at work and if it gets good reviews, we publish.” Hizashi is nothing short of persuasive, and for the rest of the week he has you in his studio, adding layer after layer, fine-tuning and weeding out bits of the collection of songs you’d written until you have an EP.
Long nights fueled by coffee, water, and tea, and takeout eventually land you with the very first copy of your own EP. 
In your hands, it’s palpable. It’s real. It doesn’t have any cover art, or a title, let alone who sang it, but Mic hands you a sharpie and you feel this fire coursing through your veins.
You feel more than accomplished.
You scribble some title down that you’d work on later and messily sign your name for Mic to make copies and then throughout the next week, you’ve got dozens of messages flooding your inbox telling you to drop it on some streaming platforms.
And the following night Mic is consoling your tears as you hit your first 100 streams. 
“I’m so proud of you.” He coos, kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his kisses, patting you on the head.
“You’re so cheesy.” You tease him.
“Says you! You named an entire song after me.” Mic huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What if ‘my beloved’ was about Marty?” You giggle. Marty, the sparkly, beautiful, elegant, beta-fish you’d adopted as the studio mascot swam around in his tank, decked out with super cool aquatic music themed stuff.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Mic laughs, his long blonde hair sweeping over his shoulders. 
“Your hair always looks so nice down.” You snuggle into him, your fingers twisting around the ends. Hizashi shakes his head and stares down at you.
“And you’re as radiant as ever, my love.” Hizashi pulls you into him, snuggling his head into your neck, placing a gentle kiss to your skin as he holds you near to him.
“Do you sing, ‘Zashi?” You ask quietly.
“No comment.” Mic giggles, his laughs tickling your skin.
“Would you work on a song with me?” You ask sweetly.
“I would love to.”
Callers chime in every so often for requests, since Mic loves to annoy the listeners by playing your EP track by track almost daily. You have to knock some sense into him telling him that there’s a quota to fill and while you love how he supports you, you’ve got them stuck in your head too.
And when you play them every so often, your heart warms when someone requests one of yours to play. Even more so, when your songs rise to much more notable fame, you’re working on your own album, with the lovely producing of Mic, and it even features a lovely duet between the two of you.
In fact, something you’d found out with having so many connections to pros, was the amount of hidden talent.
You’d requested a song with Kyoka Jiro, the beautiful voice you’d heard at the school festival had belonged to her and you’d been wanting to work with her since she also shared a love for music, and though she was young, she seemed rather happy to sing, even if she might’ve been shy about it first.
An unlikely duo might’ve come from a dare, Hawks. While he was rather against the idea at first, his voice was smooth and mellow, and it clashed with yours perfectly for some sort of sappy anti-romantic love song. Whatever the case, it made charts. 
But Mic continued to be your biggest supporter, no matter how or if you got big. You’d always find your way back into his arms, messing around with him on the radio show, and dodging paparazzi whenever you two left campus.
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