I think it’d be funny if Steve just assumed everyone knew he was an omega
He was definitely acting like an alpha during high school but after he stopped acting and just thought everyone knew
also I’m curious how the party would react to finding out
I like the two ideas.
Steve assumes everyone knows, and Jonathan loses his mind by himself.
Or Steve know nobody knows and he's fucking with them, especially Jonathan.
But I think it's more like : Steve doesn't hide it he thinks everybody knows. And when someone mentions one day, something about him being an Alpha he wants to correct them. But he sees Jonathan catching strays, and fighting demons and he thinks it's hilarious. And so he start fucking with him.
Oh definitely for high school. But I think it's more like, He presented himself as an omega, and was like, "Oh god..." He thinks everyone will hate him. But everyone treated him well and he's so confused, but hey his friends still like him so that's okay! But one day he understands that everyone thinks he's an Alpha and rode with it because it's easier, and he doesn't want to be hated if people know the truth.
For the party I think it's like...
Jane : Don't care, she doesn't understand secondary gender. She likes Steve and that's it.
Erica : Suspected it. Doesn't care. "What the fuck did you say about my babysitter?!"
Joyce : "Oh Steve..." Always buying nest things for him, giving food, and inviting him in her house because his suck.
Dustin : It felt like a betrayal, "Why didn't you tell me!" He launches into a whole monologue about trust and not lying. Then he changes the subject to something else because, in reality, it doesn't change anything.
Lucas : "WHAT?!" didn't see it coming. He goes through a whole process where "Steve can no longer be my model because he's not an Alpha," then loops back after a time to "Steve is my model."
Max : "Okay." Think of him as 100 times more badass now.
Will : "Oh, so Jonathan wasn't crazy?"
Mike : "You're an omega?! This change nothing, you're still useless." Becomes more protective.
Nancy : "Oh." Also become more protective.
Hopper : DEFINITELY BECOME MORE PROTECTIVE. An alpha can't make a move in his direction without Hopper breathing in his neck.
Robin : Already know.
Jonathan : "HALLELUJAH! I TOLD YOU SO!" Alexa plays "The war is over"
Written for the @stmarchmm day 30 prompt “omega nests/alpha nests” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington
Divider - @steddiecameraroll-graphics
Also posted on Ao3
Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing or why it’s pissing him off so badly.
There’s been this itch under his skin for the last couple of weeks, and even if Eddie doesn’t like to conform to the expectations of his designation, he’s also never been one to ignore his instincts. When he’s mad, he’ll fill the place up with his scent. When he’s overwhelmed with love for his pack, he’ll force them all into a big, messy puppy pile. Wayne likes to say he’s just a big pup disguised as an alpha.
But none of that explains why he’s been madly redecorating his den. He can’t help it; his instincts are telling him that it isn’t right, even though his den has been diligently crafted and maintained since he moved in with Wayne and didn’t have to compete with his dad for space anymore. The light is hitting his face wrong in the morning, his sheets are the wrong texture, and for some god forsaken reason, the big tapestry blanket he was very proud to thrift needs to cover the far wall that connects to Wayne’s room instead of remaining on his bed.
Normally, Eddie is happy to follow his instincts, but he also usually knows why he’s doing something. Eddie would actually really like to not be doing this, but he doesn’t feel like there’s much of a choice, hence the irritation.
He’s in the middle of moving around the pile of blankets on his bed again — why his instincts want so many blankets is beyond him. Spring in Hawkins isn’t that cold — when he hears the door open. Wayne won’t be home for another six hours, so that means it must be Steve.
Despite the judgemental looks the old bitties in the trailer park give them, the omega has been coming over almost every day since the not-so-end-of-the-world. It started off as pack bonding, everyone cramming into the double-wide to be with Eddie and Max when they were both too injured to go far. Eventually, everyone settled. The kids, Nancy and Robin, all went back to school, but Steve stuck around. Eddie won’t try to say he discouraged it. He kind of loved having an omega in the house. Loved having Steve in the house.
All that is to say, Eddie doesn’t bother to go see who’s at the door, he lets Steve know he’s in the bedroom knowing the omega will meander his way in after he kicks off his shoes and grabs a glass of water the same way he always does. Eddie just keeps working, instinct screaming at him even louder now that someone is going to see his incomplete den. It has nothing to do with that person being Steve. He swears.
When Steve finds him, Eddie is mid-wrestle with a particularly ornery fitted sheet, which has decided to betray him and come undone. Steve pays him no mind, flopping down directly onto the mess of his bed after putting his glass down on the dresser.
On a normal day, Eddie would pay this no mind. Steve is good at making himself at home wherever he is, and with so much time spent with Eddie at his house, he doesn’t bother with asking permission for much anymore. Eddie's house is Steve’s house as far as either of them are concerned, but today is not a normal day.
Today, Eddie is wound up and trying to figure out what his instincts want from him. Today, Steve flops down on Eddie’s bed, in Eddie’s nest, and lets out that same happy groan he always does when he can finally get off his feet after a long day. Today, Eddie realises what exactly he’s been doing, and for whom.
He’s nesting.
He’s building a full-on nest in his room for Steve Harrington.
Eddie must make some kind of noise because Steve lifts his head from where it had been happily buried in a stack of pillows, tilting his head in that puppyish way that is far too cute for Eddie to handle at a moment like this.
“You alright, man?” Steve asks, all mind concern and genuine curiosity. Eddie knows from experience that if he says he’s not feeling well, Steve will invite him in for a friendly pack cuddle and trill at him in that sweet way that makes Eddie’s heart squeeze. He can not handle that right now.
“Yes. Yup. All good here, Harrington. Just trying to conquer this fitted sheet.” Cool, he’s totally being cool.
“If you say so…” Steve responds, clearly not buying it but willing to let it go for now. “I like what you’ve done with the room, by the way, very cozy.” The omega turns on his back, stretching big and long like a cat settling in for a nice nap. It makes his t-shirt ride up, exposing his soft, hairy belly. Eddie is going to die.
He makes himself look away, cheeks flaming in a way that is definitely not cool so he can finish forcing his sheet into submission and maybe even get a goddamn grip. Unfortunately, he’s so focused on getting a grip that he doesn’t even notice himself getting up to gather one more sheet for the bed. The entire thing is covered in blankets, but it needs a nice, smooth layer over it so it doesn’t get too hot on his omega’s skin.
It’s the errant thought of his omega, and the sudden realization that Steve hasn’t said a word in almost five minutes makes him snap back to reality. He doesn’t want to look up, but he knows not looking would be weirder, so he forced his eyes up and oh.
Steve knows.
He’s looking right at him with those big hazel eyes like he’s just had an epiphany, and he’s staring right at where Eddie’s just finished tucking in that last, incriminating sheet.
“Eddie?”
“Uh…this is not what it looks like.”
“Eddie.”
“Ok…” Eddie says, hands going up in the air as if he can pretend someone else made the nest if he moves his hands away fast enough. “Ok, it’s exactly what it looks like, but…but!” He’s scrambling, looking for any kind of way he can pass this up as a completely platonic nest, as if alphas ever make nests if it’s not for their mates.
He’s just about to start spewing some bullshit about stress (constant but not more than usual) and mating season (junk science Eddie loathes) when he realised that Steve looks, well, he looks like he’s waiting to get his heart broken, like Eddie has that kind of power over him. Like Eddie denying what they both know is happening will hurt, but he’ll accept it.
And, well, Eddie promised himself that he wouldn’t be another thing, another person, who hurt Steve. After all the supernatural bullshit, after his old friends, his old alpha, and his parents, Eddie doesn’t want to be another thing Steve has to recover from.
It’s time to be brave. Time to stop running.
“Fuck, ok yeah it’s exactly what it looks like,” Eddie says, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m uh, I’ve kind of been crazy in love with you for like, months. Maybe since the beginning of the whole Vecna thing, if I’m being honest.” Eddie can’t look at Steve when he says this, looking off into the middle distance, too caught up to try and parse out the individual notes in Steve’s scent. “I’ve been too chicken shit to ask you to court, but I guess my instincts decided enough was enough.”
“Can you look at me, Eddie?” He doesn’t want to, but if it’s Steve asking, he’ll do just about anything. But, really, Eddie should have known better than to be scared, the omega has never looked at him with anything but kindness, not in a long time. Steve is smiling at him, a sweet little thing that sets Eddie’s heart to fluttering. “It’s a real nice nest,” Steve says, and suddenly Eddie can’t breathe. Everything he’s ever wanted is staring him right in the face, asking him without asking to take the last step.
Maybe Eddie doesn’t subscribe to any of the stupid designation stereotypes that say alphas should be in charge and omegas should follow their lead, but he also thinks that Steve deserves to be asked. He deserves a moment he can recall fondly to his kids of the day his alpha asked him to court.
“Well,” he pauses, licks his lips and wishes he could grab that glass of water Steve left on the dresser because his throat is suddenly parched, “It’s all yours if you want it, Stevie. There’s no other omega I’d make a nest for. And, uh, I’d love to court you, if you’d give me the chance to prove myself.”
Steve is smiling at him like he put all the stars in the sky, scent blooming sugary, cinnamon happy. “Well, with such a nice nest, how could I say no, Alpha?” The omega simpers, the coy effect lost as he hauls Eddie up into the nest, their nest, by his shirt.
And then they’re far too busy to say much of anything, for a while.
---------
This is my last submission for March Mating Madness 2025! It's been so fun working on these and reading what everyone else has written.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/34
Fandom: Captain America - All Media Types, Captain America (Chris Evans Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Dolores | Dot (Captain America: Civil War)
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Darcy Lewis, Maria Hill, Yelena Belova, Melina Vostokoff, Alexei Shostakov, Clint Barton, Laura Barton, Kate Bishop, Gabe Jones, Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, James Montgomery Falsworth, Jim Morita, Jacques Dernier
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg | Male Pregnancy, Age Difference, Significant Age Difference, Accidental Pregnancy, Past Drug Use Mentioned, discussions of abortion, Fake Dating, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Omega Steve Rogers, Protective Maria Hill, Protective Natasha Romanov (Marvel), fast slow burn, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Rimming, Pregnant Sex, Found Family, Foster Care, Established Rock Star Bucky Barnes, Up and Coming Punk Rocker Steve Rogers
Summary:
When legendary rock band The 107 stunned the world by announcing a reunion tour after a fifteen-year silence—and revealed the fiery up-and-coming punk outfit SHIELD as their opening act—the music scene lit up like a match to gasoline.
For Bucky Barnes, The 107’s infamous frontman and a recently sober icon of chaos and charisma, it was more than a comeback. It was a shot at redemption, a chance to rewrite the ending of a story he’d tried for years to forget—and to lose himself, once more, in the electric roar of a crowd that still remembered his name.
For Steve Rogers, SHIELD’s 24-year-old frontman with raw talent and big dreams, it was everything. A backstage pass to the legends who shaped his sound, a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage of his life—and maybe, just maybe, find something real in a world that kept letting him down.
Neither of them could have predicted how it would end. Or how it would begin.
Because some tours don’t just make headlines.
They change lives.
(Also a little bit because I saw this artwork by Paul Laurenzi and I couldn't control the visceral reaction I had to it, whoops, lmao)
Tantalizingly sheer and profane as steeple stained glass, shapely and mouth-wateringly smooth as carved marble, and tinted in such gorgeous, delicate shades as glazed watercolor, Steve has become art incarnate. Art itself. He is gorgeous. And it is making Bucky carnal with desire.
The heated, deep pool of lust low in his gut is too fucking much—it has taken over his entire body. Overflowing. Pure arousal keeps dripping, pouring, down his spine from his empty head to his growling chest to the pit of his stomach. He's hungry. His teeth ache, hungry to bite—to chew. Steve smells edible. Bucky's fucking hair, across his whole body, is standing on end, watching his mate.
He is electric.
Lost to the frantic craze of heat, somewhere between the opaque shades of pre-heat and full-blown heat, feverish and uninhibited, Steve is, he's—
Bucky's pretty omega is, really, indescribable. The sight of him is beyond words. More than. But Bucky's the only one who gets to see this and it has to be fucking documented. Somehow. Still, only he gets to fucking revel in the pornographic sight, the tempting smell, the unreal taste, the erotic, sensational feeling, the everything that is his omega lost to his baser instincts that demand to be mounted, held down, and made to take it, stretched wide on a fat knot and pumped full of cum. Bred until he's leaking cum with his belly bulging like he's already got some pups in there.
Bucky's own instincts match, the opposite side of the coin but just as primal and filthy: mate, bite, knot, breed, bite, knot, knot, breed, mate, breed, knot, bite, bite, mine, my omega—
Messy and thoughtless with those instincts, Steve is so gorgeous that Bucky has to simultaneously resist touching to watch him further disintegrate into agonized lust alone while also resisting doing nothing more than pouncing on him and ripping into him, no more fucking waiting.
Why wait, why just watch, when he can touch?
Why touch and do any of the work when he can sit back and watch him crumble into hysterics all on his own?
“Hh-AH!” Steve's voice, normally masculine, low, and sweet, has broken. It's high and wanton. Primal in the way his words have been replaced by all these fuck-me whines, begging for it without having to utter a single ‘please.’ He's far too gone for words.
On second thought, maybe Steve has the touching covered, though. At least for now—with those big, shaking paws feeling up his own fucking rack.
Feverish from the inside out, down to his skin, burning pink and misted with sweat, Steve has his hands over every exposed inch of his body and then some. The crazier his heat has driven him, the more he's run his fingers underneath the neckline of his t-shirt, getting it away from his flushed, soaked decolletage and incidentally stretching out the collar to the point that—fuck.
Jesus Christ.
Bucky has to fucking sit. on. his. hands. to prevent himself from reaching into his pants. He is ungodly desperate to squeeze his cock, already stiff but really beginning to fucking swell now. His knot is coming in hot and heavy. Nothing sounds goddamn better than sinking into vice-tight, soaking wet heat right now. On his own life, he swears it—he's gonna tie Steve next fucking thing, and he's not letting him go until his omega is knot-drunk. Steve will have to pry him off him, and that's a promise. Bucky will be the one acting as if he's heat-ravaged and desperate for anything he can get. Anything.
The soft, worn-thin fabric of Steve's little white shirt is plastered to his skin. From across the room, claiming his space on the couch, legs spread wide, it's sinfully easy for Bucky to see his full-body blush through the saturated cotton of his omega's shirt. Too, it's all too easy to see the tight, pink targets of his nipples. Bright spots of throaty, moaning sensitivity on his big, heaving tits.
Tits.
Bucky uncontrollably growls. He can't help it. ‘Cause they are—those are fucking tits. Especially when Steve's in season, the rush of hormones, flooding his big, curvaceous body, all muscle and strength and curve, makes him get all puffy. There's no other word for it. His nipples get so sensitive, harder and puffier and pinker than usual. His hole gets so leaky and even pinker than usual and puffy, too. It's the same way Steve's dick-sucking lips swell up, fat and salacious when Bucky kisses him drunk.
Steve doesn't need to kiss to get drunk now. Not kissing him might make him even more inebriated, teasing him by not letting him have what he's chasing, instinctually, inexhaustibly. Just. Needing to be held down and fucked stupid.
But, he isn't being overwhelmed like that, f-u-c-k-e-d, so he's doing it himself.
His pretty pink nipples and big tits are spilling over the neck of his stretched-out t-shirt that's turned into a pane of glass thanks to his fragrant sweat. He's melting, melting and breaking—back arching so hard it looks fucking painful, sticking his tits out, pushing hard into his hands, cupping the heavy handfuls and pinching and brushing and teasing his aching nipples. He's so hot it's frying Bucky's goddamn fucking brain.
How and why is he sitting over here?
What the hell?
He needs to be over there.
He needs to be licking the salt off his shivering skin, he needs to shove his nose under Steve's shaking arms, he needs to sink his teeth into Steve's scent glands all over again. They're so flushed and tender right now—the storm of hormones flooding him, consuming him, possessing him, and transforming him into a hurricane.
A whimpering, gasping, gutturally moaning tornado vibrating and whirling in place on their leather armchair. He shakes so hard, he shivers so much, it's got his muscles flexing and bulging. God. He's built like a tank but he just dissolves.
Bucky's omega.
Yes.
His mate.
And, fuck, his mate is dripping. Dripping sweat, dripping noises, and dripping so much, soaked so intensely with slick, that he's sllllliding on the leather.
Jesus.
He's riding that fucking chair.
His tits are so sensitive from heat but worse is his hole. It's got to be so pink and swollen, puffy, and wet between his fat cheeks. The little pair of boxer briefs he slid into this morning, skin tight, is barely holding on, dick twitching hugely in the front, making a break for it. The red, weeping head of his dick is sticking out lewdly above his waistband. He's squirming, dragging, and rubbing his hole over the leather. Drenched. Slip and slide. He can't seem to get enough of a grip to reach between his legs and touch himself there, though. Slipping a hand beneath his underwear is too complex a task. He's far too occupied by how good touching his tits makes him feel. He can't stop. Heat has destroyed, no, obliterated Steve's usual super self-control. There is no delayed gratification here. Only now. Now, now, now—
Pleasure.
Demand.
From his thrown back head, golden hair ruffled and tangled, haloing his tight, agonized expression of ecstasy, to his pushed-forward breasts, begging to be bitten and sucked on and tortured, just a little, to his tight little hips, to his needy, desperate, greedy hole begging to be fucked, to his sprawled, shaking thighs, to his cramping soles—head to toe, Bucky's omega is in demand mode.
Hedonistic.
Nothing matters but his heat.
Nothing else matters to Steve.
Nothing else matters to Bucky.
His omega.
“Ah-alphaaa!” He sobs, voice breaking jaggedly.
And Bucky is just a man—
Snarling, lunging, moving, he can't wait another goddamn second.
Alpha!Eddie being the town’s freak but having the biggest knot out there. Omega!Steve who really wants to take it, but is also irritated by the alpha…
Cue to a hard and loud hate-sex in the school’s janitors closet where Steve gets knotted and feels so full he keeps begging for the alpha to mark him, forgetting all about the hate he has for the man as his omega yearns for the alpha.
And oh does both Eddie and his alpha really fucking want to make the omega his.
Steve presents young and presents as an omega. He's scared of his upcoming first heat so Eddie buys him a teddy bear and rubs his scent all over it. Steve brings the teddy to the nest in his bedroom and hugs it to his chest, Eddie's warm leather-smoke scent making him trill softly 🧸
Omega not wholly omega Steve who has kind of fucky biology but an intense yearning for children. He tries and tries and tries with each alpha only to be distraught each time he can't carry to term.
Until he's 50 and alone and he's stomped down on his own feelings, killed them and his yearning.
Walks, talks and breathes like any other alpha, leans into that side of himself, just burned every bit of his nurturing side becomes the hard boss.
Until he sets up an internal daycare for his company.
Where Alpha Eddie Munson, 30, with multicoloured ribbons in his hair and black painted nails, gallops through the hallways with his merry band of children and Steve doesn't know what he feels he just knows he feels.
Eddie is great with the kids and Steve's not sure he can handle it.
He thinks he'll just be like any other alpha but Eddie is sweet, sharp with his tongue and great at storytime and Steve finds himself waiting around the corner just to listen in to that soft baritone.
Steve at 50 starts getting all the symptoms of a pre-heat when Eddie is near and because Steve's angsty like that he stays away.
Until one day he has a shit day, his heat symptoms are getting worse and he just wants to listen but Eddie finds his little story time hiding place.
He takes one look at Eddie and Eddie at him before blurting out "I want your babies,"
Eddie pops a knot so fast and drops into rut at the same times and passes out.
