DONT READ THIS IS JUST STUFF I WANT TO READ - MHA

time management

Shoto had grown up in a traditional household. Abusive his mind whispered sounding oddly like Izuku did in the early hours of the morning, exhaustion and weariness making his voice drop to a timber Shoto rarely heard anywhere else.

A household that believed that omegas were only meant to be seen not heard. Where Shoto had been punished countless times just for walking too loudly on those old wooden floors; made to hold up his feet for canings until they were little more than tattered and bloody pieces of flesh attached to bone.

Where even thinking about saying no to an alpha was an unfathomable sin.

His pack had spent years trying to condition him out of it. Taking help from the smallest of gestures, sometimes just giving him a choice at breakfast, remind him he belonged to no one but himself.

And for the most part, it worked. Shoto had grown, little by little; taking one step at a time.

But a decade of training took a bit longer than a year to sort out.

Shoto sighed, hands itching from a likely overuse of both his quirks. The sun setting on the horizon painted everything in an orange glow and the hero realized was no closer to what he had set out to do than he was hours ago.

He took in a deep breath trying once again to perfect the attack but as was with the previous hundred tries he ends up with his face planted in the mud. He wipes it off with his shirt and gets back into position.

“Half and half.”

He looks back to see Katsuki leaning against a tree staring at him with a frown on his face.

“What time is it?”

Shoto moves to his bag to take out his phone, grimacing when he sees the number of phone calls and messages his pack had left.

“I didn’t mean to stay out this late, I guess I just lost track of time.” He says packing his bag up and shuffling to the other with his head hanging low.

He looks up when Katsuki takes his chin in hand and tips his head back regarding him with a fondness that the omega rarely got to see.

“I know. You’re not in trouble.”

He grabs the bag out of his hand and turns around walking to the dorms clearly expecting him to follow without complaints.

Shoto frowns when they change directions halfway but doesn’t question it. They end up in the locker rooms attached to one of the newer training centres, the entire thing empty as everyone headed out for dinner.

The Alpha sets the bag down on the bench and crosses his arms, head tilting slightly to one side as he scrutinizes him. “Strip.”

The command is perhaps one that he has heard most often since being claimed, that however, does nothing to help his flaming cheeks and the embarrassment the pools instantly in his stomach.