Chapter Text
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us today, Red Riot.”
This was part of why Kirishima always hated these meetings. The PR team for his agency was undoubtedly good at what they did. They were certainly always on top of things. But the stifling formality of these meetings always made his skin itch—the scent patches he’d had on since he left the house that morning not helping with that feeling.
“We know that you’ve just come from patrol, so we appreciate that you are likely tired and ready to get home.”
They weren’t wrong. In fact, when he’d first been told upon his return to the agency that he had a message from PR, he thought it was just going to be an early digest of coverage of the rescue he’d helped with that afternoon. Holding up the steel framing on a construction site that had collapsed so six workers could crawl out had to have been received well, right?
After that, all he wanted was to go home and start his routine of ice and heat before his muscles got tight. He wouldn’t say that, though. It wasn’t manly to complain like that. “Oh, no. I’m happy to be here and discuss whatever it is you wanted to see me for.”
Even the way his teeth fit together to make the familiar smile felt forced. All he wanted was to call it a day, not face whatever piece of advice about his look, or his mannerisms, or the things he said that would make him more popular. Not listen to them nitpick whatever parts of him they didn’t find marketable. Not battle against those old insecurities that never fully left him.
“That’s very kind of you.” And yet, the words felt disingenuous and made Kirishima even more wary of what was happening here. The woman across from him shuffled a few papers, and he had to wonder if it was for show as much as anything as she’d barely looked at them. “We’d first like to commend you on your performance, particularly as of late. Red Riot’s brand,” Kirishima felt his jaw clench at the wording that he had never cared for and had voiced discontent with more than once, “is growing quite well. You’ve made yourself a household name and one known for your strength and chivalry.”
That was all good, and yet it was obvious that there was a “but” lingering at the end of it all.
The woman continued, voice still almost harshly even and polite. “All that said, the reason we wanted to speak to you today is regarding your status.”
She stopped there, as if he was meant to understand what she was referring to. “…As a pro hero?”
“As an unmated alpha,” she corrected, clearly terse for the first time.
Oh.
He should have known it was coming. It was something he knew well would be an issue someday. Something Aizawa and the other teachers at UA had warned the alphas in the class they would have to face in time if they went too long without finding a mate.
Alphas were perceived to be more volatile, more dangerous, and less trustworthy. Those that did not find a mate as they got older were viewed as even more of a threat of losing control of their instincts without a mating bond to center them.
For pro-heroes, who spent years building up physical strength and combat prowess, that stigma was even worse.
He should have been ready, should have known it would be coming soon, but…
“There are more betas and omegas every day that are questioning whether an alpha of your size and strength, that hasn’t bonded, is fit to be out on the streets, regularly facing stressful situations and coming into close contact with a variety of omegas that could trigger your rut.”
What followed was what Kirishima could only call a “barrage” of video clips, news articles, gossip rag headlines, tweets, and more, all on the same theme: fear of him.
He stared at the last tweet, posted with a photo of him in his Unbreakable form. If he was remembering the picture correctly, it was taken just after he’d used the move to absorb several bullet-like projectiles from some villain’s quirk, making himself a human shield for the civilians behind him. Above the photo, was the user’s message. “I’m just saying… do you want to find yourself trapped by that if he goes feral? How do we know he isn’t going to rut rage and attack one of us one day?”
Was that…really how people saw him?
“The sad fact is, the longer you go on in the public eye as an unmated alpha, the more they will turn on you.” He could hear Aizawa-sensei’s tired voice saying those words like he was in the room right then.
Across from him, all three of the suits from PR were talking, offering up their evidence of his size, his rugged appearance, his combat style as to why people would continue to worry over him. Kirishima was barely listening to them, though. He just kept staring at that tweet, realizing that there were people out there, people he had sworn to put himself in the line of danger to protect, that feared him.
Eventually, he cut them off. “Is there anything I can do?”
They looked a little miffed that he hadn’t allowed them to continue on their nitpicking of everything he had done as an alpha pro-hero to damage his image, but Kirishima wanted to get to the point. If he wasn’t the pillar of safety and reassurance that he’d always strove to be, he wanted to know how to fix it.
“Do you have a romantic partner at the moment?”
Of course, of course, his big, stupid brain had to conjure up the image of blonde hair, red eyes, and that vicious victory grin.
“No. No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
As much as he longed to be.
He shoved those thoughts away. Like he always did. Like he’d been doing since first year at UA. Burying them away until he was alone and could acknowledge how one omega had owned his heart, his alpha, since they were 15, and no one else could compare.
The woman running the meeting sighed. “Then, there is another option we would like to suggest.”
*****
“I don’t like it, but I’m ready to do it if we have to.”
Mina sat across from him at her kitchen table, a cup of tea in front of her, and a dubious expression on her face.
“Are you sure about this? You know he won’t like it,” she asked, one brow arched.
She knew, of course. With the way Mina was always watching, listening for the latest gossip particularly when they were all still at UA, she’d probably known long before he ever admitted it. It’d been third year before he’d finally broken. The looming reality of graduation and fear over whether he’d actually remain a fixture in Bakugou’s life piling on until he had to tell someone.
Mina had encouraged him, had all but berated him to confess how he really felt, but he’d never had the courage. Or maybe he’d just had the right amount of self-preservation?
“I know.”
How could he not? No one voiced their disdain for the way heroes’ secondary genders impacted the way the public saw them louder than his best friend. Where unmated alphas were seen as potential threats, omegas were often relegated to being too fragile, too soft, too needing of protection to put themselves in the line of fire. From the time he presented, Bakugou had been fighting back against the idea that he was some “helpless breeding stock meant to sit on a fucking knot for the rest of my fucking life.” Which was probably one of the nicer ways he’d put it over the years.
From the time they’d first started making their debuts as student heroes in the public eye, Bakugou had made no bones about being aggressive, domineering, loud, and unapologetic. And in most ways, that was just who he was. But Kirishima knew, even without the moments when Bakugou had finally felt safe enough with him to say as much, that it was also calculated. He could have behaved, toed the line, and he was smart enough to do so if he’d wanted to. The simple fact was he refused to play nice, or try to fit a role because it may assuage people’s fears or gain their favor.
Now, here Kirishima was considering doing exactly that. Preparing to live a lie in the public eye only to not resist the backwards beliefs they held, and to make himself more palatable.
But what other choice did he have?
“I won’t give up hero work,” he stated, as if it needed saying. “And I can’t do that properly, I can’t be the sturdy hero, if people are too afraid of me to let me save them.”
He sounded almost half as miserable as he felt. Ever since that meeting, he’d been sinking back into that familiar sadness. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so worthless.
Not since a certain boy had pointed out just how stupidly strong he was.
He hadn’t realized he was staring down at his hands until a smaller pink one settled over them. Looking up, he saw the lines of worry in her face.
“Besides,” he pressed on, hating that look, hating the way it reminded him of the one his moms used to give him when he was younger, “it’s not like he’ll even need to know. At least…not until I can figure out how to talk to him about it.”
Bakugou hardly ever knew what the rest of their class was up to unless they all got together. Outside of the rankings, Bakugou didn’t seem to stay on top of hero news, probably because he kept himself so busy. Kirishima was the one that usually showed him the clips of their friends’ big fights or awesome rescues.
The small blip on the gossip sites that this was bound to be if they went for it was hardly going to grab his attention.
“Look, you know I’ll do it with you. At least pretending to be courting to get the assholes off our backs for a while. But you’re the one with something to lose here…”
Except, he didn’t have anything to lose, did he? Bakugou wasn’t his. No matter how he hoped, he never would be.
All he had to lose was the trust the public put in him. His standing as the hero he’d always wanted to be.
“No. This is for the best.”