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Fiddleford goes to the shack for one reason or another when Stan shows up to help Ford, and interrupts the fight before Ford goes into the portal, and they all end up working together to fix the Bill Issue, but Ford and Stan are still constantly at each other's throats because nothing was actually resolved between them.
Fidds has to constantly break up fights between them
One day his patience runs out
He makes them both sit at the kitchen table and says 'no one is getting up until they can agree to act like mature adults and use the good sense the Lord blessed them with'
Makes them take turns holding a talking stick and verbalize their feelings
They get through it and at the end Fidds dismisses them to go do something constructive and get out of his sight and so help him if they come back before dusk
Seeing how taking a 'firm hand' to the boys worked so well and gave him some blessed hours of peace and quiet, Fiddleford starts using it more and more
and the twins of course with their horrible attachment issues and their daddy issues and their need for praise and attention and structure take to it so well
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All the lovely reblogs from moots and others on my most recent post gave me an insane burst of motivation, so I absolutely grinded this out last night at 2 am.Â
Instead of being fully stancest I decided to go with fiddlestanwich because I had an idea for it. Sorry if anyone from the poll is disappointed with that!
Anyway, my version of the omegaverse is a bit convoluted, but Iâve had this concept for a while now, and I really wanted to include it. I might expand on it in some other fics but idk weâll see where life takes meÂ
Warnings: VERY VERY dubcon, incest, omega mistreatment, Stanâs feelings are kinda completely ignored in this, so  (â„ïčâ„), double penetration
Enjoy (Ë¶Ë á” Ë˶)
Fiddleford steps into the house with an irritated huff. His wet coat hugs his body uncomfortably, the snow having melted with his unnatural body heat and the warmth of the cabin. He shrugs off the offending material and places it on the coat rack, wincing as it drips wet onto the wood floor below. The tall manâs weight forces the wood to creak under him as he shuffles further into the house, quick to rid himself of his boots so as not to track in snow. The beta huffs out a short grumble as his hands rake down his face, a simmering heat radiating from the skin.
There was nothing that Fiddleford hated more than a short-notice pseudo-rut. It was only by the grace of God that he was able to make it to the cabin before it hit him proper. Times like these make Fiddleford miss his wife something fierceâ wanting nothing more than to fall into her sweet embrace, but with a tired sigh, he resigns himself to a lonely few days locked in his room.Â
âMmm!âÂ
Fiddlefordâs ears perk up at the muffled sound, his body instinctively leading him to its sourceâ the living room.Â
Heâs greeted with the startling sight of Stanley, face down ass up on the couch, and Ford with a hand on the younger twinsâ nape, pistoning away without a care, despite the new presence witnessing the scene.Â
Stanâs face is turned facing the room so Fiddleford can see the manâs expression clear as dayâ tears stream down ruddy cheeks and drool leaks from the corner of his mouth, said mouth open wide as strained breaths leave his chest heaving. The poor thing looks exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open despite Fordâs frantic thrusting, forcing Stanâs body to shift violently with each movement. Ford is grunting loud enough to drown out the sound of Stanâs gravely whimpers. The older twinâs face is twisted in what could be considered a snarl, leaning forward and huffing as he nuzzles into the side of Stanâs neck.Â
It doesnât take but a single sniff to smell the scent of rut over the suffocating stench of sex.Â
Fiddleford canât help his startled gasp at the scene, and Fordâs face is flushed as he straightens to look up at Fiddleford, eyes wild and pleased, not even slowing a fraction as he makes eye contact with Fiddleford and flashes the engineer a small smile.Â
âOh! Welcome back, Fiddleford.â The omegaâomega because thatâs apparently what Stanley wasâ under the scientist whines loudly, voice cracking as Ford continues his brutal pounding, and Stanford rumbles as he leans back over the other man, pushing Stan further into the couch cushions with his weight.Â
Ford chances a glance in Fiddlefordâs direction, and gives a short breathless chuckle at the betaâs mortified expression, causing the lanky man to flush even more, âJust a moment, F, IâllâIâll be done soon.âÂ
And the alpha seems to mean just that, as he removes his hand from Stanâs nape and uses both arms to wrap around Stanâs middle and pull the large man back onto his burgeoning knot. Stanleyâs cry is drowned out by Stanford's thundering growl, the sound sending goosebumps crawling across Fiddlefordâs skin.Â
Both men are left panting, and Ford nudges his way into the side of Stanâs neck again, this time leaving small kisses and nips, and this more than anything convinces Fiddeleford he has to go. Not only is the engineer embarrassingly hard, he also canât help the hot flash of anger he feels toward Ford as the betaâs pseudo-rut hisses in his mind that he should be the one Stanley is squirming under, the omega he should be, protecting, taking, breedingâ
The rustle of movement breaks Fiddleford from his train of thought. Ford manhandles his brother on his lap, having them sit upright while connected by the alphaâs knot.Â
âYouâI!â Fiddleford stammers unhelpfully as he gets a full view of Stanley from the front, his naked body entirely too enticing on full display.Â
Fiddleford stumbles his way to the ottoman, quickly grabbing a blanket and throwing it at the pair, if only to keep the remaining vestiges of his sanity. Ford takes it with a nod, adjusting his brother on his lap and covering their indecency with the patchwork blanket haphazardly. Â
Stanford looks entirely too unbothered, and Fiddlefordâs brain feels like itâs been turned to mush as he tries to understand why in Godâs name the alpha is so calm.Â
Fiddleford clears his throat and forces himself to double down. He hadnât run (an impressive feat for him, but he thinks that may have been the right thing to doâlord, he doesn't know!) and he needs answers.Â
âErm,â Fiddelford starts, his voice wavering, and Ford raises an eyebrow, prompting the taller man to continue, âI had no idea yâall were mates.â He finishes awkwardly, wringing his hands together nervously.
Stanford hums casually, âOh, weâre not.âÂ
Fiddleford startles slightly. He huffs disbelievingly, never having taken Ford for one to have casual sex, especially not with someone heâs as close to as Stan. âYouâre not?â Fiddleford blurts, and he expects some kind of snappish response, but the alpha just tilts his head confusedly.Â
âHeâs a household. Donât you know?â Ford's voice carries a curious lilt, and the statement sends Fiddleford reeling.Â
A household. Where are those even legal anymore? Fiddlefordâs brain stutters to a halt, digesting the implications of his friendâs confession. Household omegas were rarely ethical, and the states had been slowly cracking down on homes that continued with the practice. Most homes that had a household often groomed the omega from childhood, their jobs solely to provide relief to the alpha and beta members of the home in times of rut. Too Fiddleford, who had grown up with traditional values, itâs no secret to him that most omegas do enjoy the life of a housewife/husband, but to subject a single omega to a house full of alphas and betas seems a bitâ well, barbaric. But Fiddleford also knows that sometimes thatâs just how things have to happen, when there are no other omegas in the house and no one to help the other members of the home. Itâs a delicate, touchy subject, a household.
âHas he not been tending to you as well?â Ford questions, his expression shuttering when he sees Fiddlefordâs look of confusion. He looks his nose down at Stanley disapprovingly. Stan, who had been silent and still up until this point, cringes, and Fiddleford learns why as Stanford cuffs the omega on the ear quickly. Stan yelps and curls in on himself a bit, eyes trained on the floor resolutely.Â
âStanley.â Ford hisses sharply, and Fiddleford starles as the man goes to cuff his twin again.
âStanford!â Fiddleford exclaims aghast, and Ford stops before striking his brother again.Â
âHe knows whatâs expected of him, Fiddleford.â Stanfordâs voice is firm, and Fiddleford forces himself to take a breath. âGive the poor feller a break, I havenât even had a rut fer him to help me with since heâs been with us.â Fiddleford appeals, and the fellow scientist's expression smooths out.Â
âI coulda told ya thatâŠâ Stan mumbles, a hand cupping his stricken ear. Fiddleford winces in sympathy, and he can see Fordâs expression turn apologetic.Â
âAh. I apologize, Stanley, that was presumptuous of me.â The apology is stilted, and Fiddleford can see his lab partnerâs physical effort to get the words out, even as they are laced with genuine regret.
Stanley brightens a bit at the apology, but he slumps a second later. The man is obviously exhausted, âSsâfine, Six,â Stan slurs, and he whines quietly when Ford rocks forward in an attempt to get more comfortable. Stan's eyes flutter as he struggles to stay conscious, and Ford shushes the omega quietly, carding a gentle hand through the long brown mullet, scritching lightly. Stanley slumps further into Stanfordâs hold, turning his face to lie across the older twin's chest and shoulder. Itâs barely a second before Fiddleford hears the telltale sounds of soft snoring and knows that Stanley has passed out.Â
Fiddleford feels another flash of empathy; he knows how often alphas just go when in a rut. It mustâve been especially rough for him, seeing as Fiddleford canât smell heat in the air to complement Fordâs overwhelming rut scent. Ford must catch Fiddlefordâs conflicted expression as he clears his throat.Â
âF, I know it must seemâŠunusual, but rest assured, Stanley is perfectly content being a household,â Stanford says, voice gruff but softer than before, so as not to wake Stan.Â
Fiddleford hums at the words, not fully convinced but alsoâŠwell, Fiddleford had never claimed to be a saint, and the idea of having a household hereâitâs. Well. Itâs more appealing than it probably should be. Fiddleford blames his pseudo-rut-addled mind for conjuring images of a Stanley debatched by his hand, always there to aid him, practically made for it, and if Stan had been a household since he presented, really, whatâs the harm? Itâs what Stanley knows, and itâs not Fiddlefordâs place to judge the Pines for how they run their home.Â
Fiddleford tries to rid himself of the images his mind continues to throw his way, biting his lip before remembering he needs to respond to Stanford. âAh, I got nothinâ against households, not really. Just never came âcross one myself.â Fiddleford replies, voice matching Stanford's volume.Â
Stanford nods, and Fiddleford feels himself relax. He reckons that he mightâve felt more ashamed if he had walked in on mates, but a household is shared with everyone in the home, so itâs commonplace for everyone to see other members of the household with the omega.Â
âWell, Iâm sure Stanley will inform you when he wakes up, but youâre free to let him know if you need help during your puedo-ruts; heâd be more than happy to, Iâm sure,â Stanford says, all too casually.Â
Despite all that Fiddleford had just witnessed, he finds himself flushing crimson at the implication.Â
âŠ
Fiddlefordâs pseudo-rut hits him well and truly the next day. He finds himself prowling the cabin, frustrated to all hell. Hot and sweating and all the more irritated with the scent of another alphaâs rut so close, permeating the air throughout his den. The anger sours his scent, but he forces himself to take a few breaths to calm himself. The other alpha is Ford; heâs pack, not a threat.Â
When Fiddleford catches the scent of Stanleyâof omega, he canât stop himself from following the alluring siren song, ending with him standing outside of Stanfordâs bedroom door. He hears the telltale sound of a headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, but he doesnât hesitate as he opens the door with just a bit too much force.
Ford has one of Stanâs legs thrown over his shoulder, driving into Stan with reckless abandon, and Fiddleford feels the sizzling arousal that had been plaguing him all day became so intense that Fiddleford thinks he might throw up. The close quarters exacerbate the smell of sex, but more importantly, under the oppressive scent of Stanfordâs rut, he can smell that sweet omega aroma. Stanleyâs blend of sea salted air and toffee, mixing in the air so perfectly that it forces Fiddleford to swallow the saliva that begins pooling in his mouth. He can make out the musk of slick heavy in the air, and the lanky man finds himself being pulled forward by an invisible force to get just a bit more of that amazing smell.Â
Ford, seeing his assistant approaching, lets out a small growl before seeming to gain control of himself and forcing the sound to putter out. Fiddleford feels his own hackles rise, and the southerner can make out the small look of apprehension on Stanâs face before it is wiped away by Ford thrusting forward.Â
Stanford gives a few more sallow thrusts before pulling out of Stan completely and turning to face Fiddleford. The engineer tries not to stare at the other manâs weeping cock as it stands starkly against pale skin. He canât help but compare himself, noting that while Stanford is thicker than him, he beats the man out in length. He tries not to let himself preen too much.
Stanley huffs as his leg is taken off Fordâs shoulder and set down on the bed. He doesnât give much of a reaction to the sudden stop to their fucking besides a slight pouty lip. Fiddleford knows that Stanley really is a good omega in that moment, no complaining, just talking whatever his partner gives him, even if it means stopping so abruptly. Stan is completely broken in, and if that doesnât excite Fiddleford more than anything.
âCare to join us?â Stanford extends that first olive branch that Fiddleford latches onto instantly.Â
âDonât mind if I do.â He responds cheekily, striding over to the bed with a small grin. Luckily, the bed itself is a queen, maybe a bit cramped for three grown men, but better than his own twin bunk.Â
Fiddleford, closer now, can make out the sight of Stanleyâs gaping entrance, still drenched in slick, and the remnants of Stanfordâs come from the round prior. It makes Fiddlefordâs cock twitch needily, and he can smell his own pseudo-rut in the air. Fiddleford is quick to shed his clothes, too far gone to care about nudity at this point, crawling up onto the bed, solely focused on Stan as he reaches out and cups the side of the larger manâs face.Â
When Fiddleford catches sight of the resignation in Stanâs eyes, he canât find it in himself to feel bad; his body is aching to finally get his hands on the gorgeous omega in front of him. Fiddleford feels the weight of the bed shifting and is amused to find Stanford positioning himself behind Stan, manhandling his twin so that he can spoon him from behind, forcing them to sit up a bit and Fiddleford to scoot backward to give them space. Fiddleford doesnât let his hand stray, however, and he uses a callused thumb to rub against Stanâs flushed cheek. The omega leans into it with a small sigh. Fiddleford feels his heart melt just a tad, but is interrupted from his sappy thoughts by a short rumble coming from Stanford.Â
Figures that Stanford would still be possessive over his twin, household or not. Fiddleford doesnât let the short growls his friend is releasing stop him; however, he leans forward and catches Stanâs lips in his own. Stan lets him in instantly, like instinct, and it makes Fiddleford rumble in approval as he licks into the grifter's willing mouth. He appreciates the plushness of the other manâs lips and the wet heat that he explores with his tongue. The kiss is fast to turn bruising; Fiddleford too pent up to stay gentle for Stan. Between gasps of air, the omega lets out small whines; the small noises do something sinful to Fiddlefordâs core, and he finds himself grinding forward, rubbing his erection against Stanâs smaller one. The friction makes Fiddleford gasp, but heâs more distracted by Stanleyâs adorable cock. It was no secret that Omegaâs dicks were smaller than both alphas and betas, but it was another thing to see it for himself. Fiddleford had only ever been with other betas, his wife being one herself, and theâ well, the proper term was microcock, fascinated him. It was so cute nestled between a thatch of curly dark hair, and the urge to lean forward and take it into his mouth was only thwarted by his ever-growing need to love, take, breedâ
Fiddleford breaks away from Stanâs lips with great effort, grinding forward again to feel them press against each other. Stan lets out a small moan, a hand reaching back to grip Stanfordâs shoulder, his eyes squeezing shut as Fiddleford continues to rut the two of them against each other.Â
Stanford, done waiting, maneuvers Stan to sit on his knees, and reaches a six-fingered hand down to stroke his own cock, leading it to Stanâs entrance and pushing forward. The omega keens loudly as heâs breached once again, mouth hanging open in a beautiful O shape.Â
Fiddlefordâs hands find Stanâs full thighs, and he shifts closer so they are completely flush. Ford is quick to start up his previous pace, the thrusts force Stan to grind forward against Fiddlefordâs cock, and itâs a delicious sort of pleasure with every pass of Stanâs body against the taller manâs member. Fiddleford leans forward with a groan to lick and suck at Stanâs skin, one hand coming up to grope at the manâs chest, elated to feel the soft flesh of a tit in his hand. He rolls the nipple he finds between his fingers, and Fiddleford delights in the stilted groan he receives from the action.Â
Stan is bouncing wildly as Ford pounds away, the alpha grunting and moaning loudly, his hands wrapped around his twinsâ middle and his chin hooked on Stanleyâs shoulder. Stanford gives a particularly hard thrust that has Stanâs eyes filling with tears, and Fiddleford notices his expression is pinched like heâs in pain. Fiddleford tuts at Stanford and sends him a disapproving glance, but the other man just glares at him through hooded eyes, arms tightening around his brother.Â
It might say something about Fiddleford, how the sight of Stanleyâs tear-filled eyes fuels the fire in his stomach instead of stamping it out.Â
Fiddleford takes Stanâs head in his hands once again, forcing eye contact; the manâs big brown eyes are wide and wet. Fiddleford strokes his thumbs down Stanâs cheeks and smiles, âYouâre beinâ so good for us darlinâ, takinâ Stanford so well.â Fiddleford takes one hand from Stanâs face to fumble downwards to take himself and Stan in his hand together. The omega gasps, pitching forward a bit, and Fiddleford takes his weight with his body. Stan buries his face in the skinny manâs chest and whines, and Fiddleford pets his hair with one hand and strokes them both with the other, making them shudder in unison.Â
Fiddleford gives them a few more good tugs, a symphony of Stanâs short-punched-out moans, and Stanfordâs grunts filling his ears as he reaches even further downward past Stanleyâs cock to feel at his sopping entrance, his fingers briefly brushing against Stanfordâs dick thatâs busy driving into his brother as he does so.
âStanford, think ya can slow down fer a second?â Fiddleford asks, entranced by the wet slowly coating his fingers as they poke and prod at Stanleyâs hole. Stanford gives him an annoyed look, but relents, his eyes fill with realization and excitement when he realizes what Fiddleford plans to do. âThink ya can take us both sugar?â Fiddleford directs the question toward Stanley, but heâs already gripping his angry red dick in one hand and guiding it to Stanâs dripping core. He circles the inviting hole, and Stan reaches out and slings an arm around Fiddlefordâs shoulder, the other still clutching Stanford behind him.Â
âSsâgonna be a lot, dunno if I canâcanââ Stanley stutters nervously, but Stanford wraps a large hand around the omega's throat, the act demanding as it is threatening. âYou can. You will.â Stanfordâs tone leaves no room for argument, and Fiddleford canât help the thrill that shivers down his spine.Â
Stan hesitates for only a moment before he lowers his head and bares his neck, the act making Fiddleford twitch in his palm, and if the resounding moan from Ford is evidence enough, it affected his partner the same way. Ford lets his hand thread into Stanâs long hair carefully, and Fiddleford rumbles his affection into the side of Stanâs neck that Ford is not occupying. âThatâs right, sweetheart. Weâll be mighty careful with ya, donât worry yer pretty little head none.â Stan whimpers a bit, but Fiddleford chooses to ignore it as he begins to push forward into that tight, inviting heat.Â
Stanford had slowed to a halt, rut-addled brain at least retaining enough lunacy to understand that they needed to be careful for this part. Finally fitting into Stanley is just as exquisite as Fiddleford knew it would be, that warm entrance engulfing him completely as he pushes forward inch by torturous inch. Stanley keens a long string of âah, ah, ahsâ, tears finally spilling fast down his face as both Fiddleford and Stanford stretch him to the point of bursting. Fiddleford is sure to be slow, no matter how much he aches to just pin down Stan and take, but he knows the reward will be sweet as long as he lets Stan adjust. Fiddleford can feel the searing heat of Fordâs cock stuffed tightly next to his own, and it only adds to the delicious pleasure eating him up from the inside. Soon, Fiddleford is fully seated, and he groans low in his throat.
Fiddleford makes eye contact with Stanford over Stanleyâs shoulder, and the other man nods, beginning to thrust shallowly. Fiddleford grips Stanleyâs hips, the force probably bruising, but he canât find it in himself to care. The feel of Fordâs cock paired with Stanâs wet heat surrounding him lights his whole body on fire; he has to physically hold himself back from jackhammering into the omega immediately. Fiddleford takes a breath and times himself, beginning to thrust as well, making sure to always be inside Stan when Ford is pulled back. Stanâs slick makes the slide impossibly easy despite the tight fit, and Fiddleford leans down, busying himself with sucking hickies into Stanâs skin to muffle his own embarrassingly high-pitched and frequent moans.Â
They set a steady rhythm, but soon both Fiddleford and Stanford need more, rocking into the omega below them with renewed vigor. Stanley writhes on their cocks, keening and whining with each pass of them inside his body, tossing his head back and forth frantically.Â
Fiddlefordâs hips snap forward rapidly, chasing that beautiful sensation, and he angles himself slightly, âAh, Fidds!â Stan cries loudly at the change, and Fiddlefordâs name from the omega's lips whips him into a frenzy, setting a punishing pace as he plunges into Stanley, causing the younger man to wail.Â
Stanford, never one to be outdone, jerks his hips faster, forcing himself deeper inside his brother, making Stan choke on a cry of âFâFord!â The tears spilling down the drifter's face are beautiful, and Fiddleford doesnât even think as he leans forward to lick them off, his panting breath mingling with Stanâs own. Stan jolts with the force of their fucking, and would have toppled over if not for Fiddleford and Stanford's tight grips. They continue to grind into Stanleyâs tight heat together with reckless abandon.Â
Stanfordâs hips stutter in that telltale way, and Fiddleford soon finds himself reaching that familiar peak as well; he can feel his pseudo-knot begging to swell. A beta knot only shows up during a pseudo-heat and is much smaller than an alpha, but he can still feel it catching against Stanâs entrance, making it that much harder to rock into the welcoming heat. Fiddleford can feel Stanfordâs knot almost completely inflated, doing the same.Â
Stanâs eyes fill with fear as he feels their knots growing inside him, âYouâyou have to pull out, I canât take two, I canâtââÂ
Stanford and Fiddleford, both too far into their rut-induced hazes, donât heed the omegas' pleas, only focused on fitting their burgeoning knots into the tight hole below them. âAâAh! Hurts!â Stan's wailing cry is sobbed out as both menâs knots completely catch, unable to pull out anymore. Stanford comes first, hot spurts filling Stan and the very limited room inside him, the sensation of the extra heat surrounding Fiddlefordâs cock is enough to send him over the edge as well, coming with a choked growl. Stan cries out desperately as heâs filled to the brim, stuffed so full that his stomach extends slightly.Â
Panting fills the room as both Fiddleford and Stanford grind up into Stanley as they ride out the vestiges of their orgasms. When they finally come down enough, Ford peppers kisses on Stanâs neck. âSo good for us, Stanley, you did so good.â Stanfordâs voice is filled with awe, and Stan sniffles but leans back into his brother. The action pulls on both cocks still buried inside Stan; all three hiss at the sensation.Â
Fiddleford leans forward and smiles into the opposite side of Stanâs neck. He could get used to having a household.Â
i need more fiddlestanwich where fidds gets to be the properly unhinged mad inventor that he canonically is. i want stan to look at that man, go "oh there's something Wrong With Him. no wonder he gets along with sixer. i need him.", and then finagle his way into a kinky threesome with his brother and his brother's deeply repressed mess of a mad science bestie.