thinking about…
…a taller than average omega. the kind who gets mistaken as an alpha, up until someone catches their scent. and even then, some particularly stubborn people will assume their mate is just really possessive.
it’s whatever, really. they’re used to it. it’s been going on ever since they got their growth spurt back in high school, after all.
there’s just one main thing that bothers them. (well, maybe more than one thing, but—this isn’t that musing.)
when they’re sad, or lonely, or sick, or just feeling—not quite right, all they want is to sink into the comfort of their mate’s scent. and, sure, they have plenty of scented blankets, and their mate is generally more than willing to let them bury their face in their stomach, or neck, but.
it would be really nice to tug on a hoodie, or a shirt, a little too big and saturated in their mate’s scent.
their mate, though, is a couple sizes too small for that.
it’s disappointing—but really only a mild one, all things considered.
their mate has a plan, though. they notice their omega’s want, their longing—or maybe they don’t pick up on that specifically. maybe they just know it’s a common desire, behavior, shared between omegas. their omega shouldn’t have to miss out, just because they’re a bit taller than average.
so they buy a few comfy, lounging clothes, and start wearing them. alone, of course, to keep it a surprise.
the next time the omega has a bad day, their partner presents them with the stash of scented clothes.
they weren’t expecting to be tackled with kisses, but, well. they’re not complaining.
