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xtruss · 1 year

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National Geographic’s photo engineers share their top picks for compact cameras in 2023.

The 10 Best Compact Cameras, According To National Geographic

From budget-friendly point-and-shoots to high-tech wonders designed for wildlife photography, check out these recommendations from our photo engineering team.

— By Tom O’Brien Anderca Flynn | Photographs By Rebecca Hale | Published November 22, 2022

Things may still be far from “normal,” but our desire for adventure remains the same. Whether it’s spotting a rare bird in your local park or exploring an ancient wonder in a far-flung destination, technology has made it easier than ever to capture and preserve precious moments.

A powerful travel image not only has the ability to tell a story but also reminds us of the extraordinary beauty the world offers. “As a biologist and conservation photographer, I’m always amazed by the diversity of life on the planet,” says Jen Guyton, photojournalist and National Geographic Explorer. “Traveling to see and photograph nature’s riches allows me to learn new things and appreciate the abundance of this planet.”

With that in mind, we tapped the photo engineering team at National Geographic for which compact cameras they recommend—and why. They design and build custom equipment for professional photographers and test consumer products for this annual guide. Here are their picks for travel:

Fujifilm X-T5

Best for: Overall performance and ease of use. Professional-grade controls and vintage style make Fujifilm X-T5’s mirrorless APS-C camera ideal for a range of photographers, from hobbyists to pros.

The XT series from Fujifilm—often our top pick—has had a major revamp this year with the XT-5. It can go toe-to-toe with professional full-frame mirrorless models and DSLRs in performance, autofocus, image quality, and handling. While the X-T5 has gotten a little smaller than the X-T4, it gained the fantastic 40 megapixel (MP) sensor from the X-H2, one of the most detailed APS-C sensors on the market, which makes it—in the authors’ opinions—the reigning champion of 2023 travel cameras.

One of the most impressive things about the X-T series is that it provides an enjoyable shooting experience for amateurs and pros by blending vintage dials with modern, professional-grade controls, weather sealing, and ports for video or still photography. For more: Fujifilm

Ricoh GR III and GR IIIx

Best for: Portability and ease of use. Ricoh’s GR III and GR IIIx offer professional performance in pint-sized bodies.

The GRIII packs some serious photographic power into a pocketable size. It has a stabilized 24 MP APS-C sensor, dual-type autofocus, a responsive touch screen, and an easy-to-navigate menu system. It’s suits for casual point-and-shoot photography, or more controlled manual shooting. If you find the 28mm f/2.8 effective focal length too wide, the GR IIIx, released in 2021, is identical to the GR III in every way except for its lens, which is a slightly tighter 40mm f/2.8 equivalent lens. For more: Ricoh

Tip: The camera’s battery does not have a high capacity, but the built-in USB-C port makes it simple to top off the battery with a phone charger.

Fujifilm X100V

Best for: Travel street photography. The leaf shutter on Fujifilm’s X100V is quiet and can be synced with flash at a high speed.

When it was first released in 2011, the original X100 rocked the digital camera industry, revitalizing this legendary camera film brand and bringing retro styling to the forefront of camera design.

The latest, the X100V, brings a few significant changes. The lens has the same value (35mm f/2 equivalent), but the new design significantly increases sharpness corner to corner, both for wide-open and close-up images.

The camera’s body design adds nearly full weather sealing, a flip-out screen, and a slightly changed grip, as well as improvements to the control layouts (including a control stick). Fujifilm cameras produce the best JPEGs in the industry, with amazing film simulations; cameras in the X100 line are often the backup of choice for photojournalists. This one has a leaf shutter that can sync to high speeds with a strobe and a built-in neutral-density (ND) filter for combatting bright sunlight. For more: Fujifilm

Tip: When photographing with the Fujifilm X100 always pack a hot shoe thumb rest, a lens hood, and a wrist strap. These allow you to ditch the camera bag and lens cap.

Sony RX100VII

Best for: Speed and accuracy in a tiny package. Thanks to new sensor technology, this Sony model can shoot 20 frames per second with virtually no image distortion.

Despite being more than three years old, the seventh-generation RX100 line remains as one of the most versatile ultra-compact cameras. This version comes with real-time autofocus from Sony’s pro line, giving photographers highly reliable eye/face autofocus that now works with animals. No other camera in this size has autofocus or shoot speeds close to this little wonder. Plus, it shoots electronically with almost no distortion of moving subjects.

This means silent shooting and high shutter speeds for working in bright light. The RX100VII sports a 24-200mm equivalent zoom lens that, while not as bright as we would like, covers a wide range for the traveler. Tom regularly describes this camera line as his “desert island” choice. Does it command a high price for such a small camera? Yes, but it delivers outstanding performance. For more: Sony

Leica Q2 and Q2 Monochrom

Best for: Performance and luxury. Leica offers well-rounded performance, simplicity, and top-notch image quality.

Though expensive, the venerable Q series cameras are wonderful to use. The Q series comprises These full-frame, fixed-lens cameras with full-frame, fixed-lens cameras with a 28mm f/1.7 lens providing built-in stabilization. Since the first-generation Q and Q-P have been discontinued, we recommend the modern Q2 and Q2 Monochrom, which both have a 47.5 MP sensor, a larger battery, and full weather sealing.

The Q2 Monochrom is nearly identical to the Q2, except that it shoots only in black and white and has a sleek black paint job. Removing the color filter stack (or Bayer array) makes for astounding black-and-white images; it also increases sharpness and high ISO performance because more light reaches the pixels. If you prefer color, the Q2 will be more to your liking. For more: Leica

OM System OM-1

Best for: Wildlife photography and creative landscape work. The OM-1 pro-style weather sealing, toggling levers for quick settings changes, and small sensor help get that rare photo.

The OM System (aka Olympus cameras) just released the flagship OM-1 camera, a major upgrade from the beloved Olympus E-M1 series.

The OM-1 has a similar layout to the E-M1 series but it packs a super fast stacked sensor for high-speed stills shooting at up to 10 FPS mechanical and a blazing 120 FPS electronic. An updated sensor brings better low light performance and subject detection autofocus algorithms that can detect cars, planes, animals, and humans.

This model also has hand-held high-res shooting (you can take 50 MP images out of a burst of 16 frames) and the Live-ND filter, which simulates a neutral-density filter. In addition, computational photography for handheld shooting emulates some tripod-based long exposure shooting (for example, a blurred waterfall). The pro line lenses have a high-quality build, integrated lens hoods, smooth zoom and focus rings, and round bokeh visualization (background blur).

The OM-1’s lens options make it ideal for birders and wildlife watchers. The new 150-400mm F4.5 TC1.25x IS PRO gives you a lightweight 300-800mm range and an integrated teleconverter up to 1000mm handheld. Tom tested this lens/camera combo and had a blast photographing birds in his neighborhood without his arms getting too tired. For more: OM Systems

Tip: The best lenses include the Olympus 12-100mm F/4 IS PRO (24-200mm), 12-24mm f/2.8 II PRO (24-80mm f/2.8 equivalent), 40-150mm F/2.8 PRO (80-300mm pro zoom), 7-14mm PRO (wide-angle zoom), 300mm F/4 IS PRO (600mm F4 equivalent), 150-400mm F4.5 TC1.25x IS PRO (300-800mm f/4.5).

Fujifilm X-S10

Best for: For the price, the Fujifilm X-S10 is the top all-around travel camera with interchangeable lenses.

With an internally stabilized 26 megapixel APS-C sensor, the X-S10 features impressive ergonomics despite its smaller size. It also has contemporary unmarked command dials and a mode selector, compared to the retro style used on other Fujifilm bodies.

What do you give up for the affordability and compact size? It has a smaller battery, a single card slot, a smaller viewfinder, no weather sealing, and a slightly lower top shutter speed. But these are all fair trades in our book. For more: Fujifilm

Tip: Thanks to its ergonomic grip, this camera pairs well with an all-around zoom lens. The Fujifilm XF18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 R LM OIS WR makes the perfect single lens travel kit.

Nikon Z30

Top (Nikon Z30): Best for: Budget-conscious travelers, who are packing light and have uncompromising video demands. Bottom (Canon EOS R7 ): Best for: Wildlife photography and action shots.

Nikon’s new Z30 is the third version in the company’s Z-mount APS-C lineup. Its compact size sets it apart. That’s thanks in part to not having an electronic viewfinder or a 30-minute recording limit, plus a vari-angle (or “tilty-flippy,” if you prefer) screen.

Although it’s considered an entry-level camera, the Z30 is capable of 4K 30p recording without a crop, which cannot be said of its bigger, full-frame brother, the Z5. Its stills credentials are impressive as well, with the same amazing low-light performance, an 11fps mechanical shutter with AF tracking, strong AF performance, and the option to save images as high-quality raw files.

More importantly, it’s light, easy to carry around all day, and just plain fun to shoot with. It’s a perfect match for Nikon’s compact DX 16-50mm f/3.5-6.3 VR, which makes for an excellent setup to document your adventures. For more: Nikon

Tip: If range is more of a concern than camera size, consider adding the Nikkor Z DX 50-250mm f/4.5-6.3 VR to your camera bag. At effectively 375mm on the long end, with five stabilization stops, you’ll have no trouble capturing brilliant images of distant subjects.

Canon EOS R7

The R7 is among Canon’s first APS-C RF mount cameras (announced in May of 2022 alongside the trimmed down R10). The largest camera on this list justifies its size with impressive features, including one of the best APS-C sensors on the market (X-T5 has the crown now) at 32 megapixels.

Additional features include an in-body stabilization that can auto-level your horizons, a 15fps mechanical shutter (and a blistering 30fps electronic), two UHS-II card slots, and a comfortable ergonomic grip that houses the same LP-E6NH batteries used by its full-framed siblings, giving it a very dependable battery life.

We’ve also been impressed by its auto-focus on objects—using the same deep learning algorithms as the R3—but the face and eye detection performance leaves something to be desired. Its weather sealing means you can feel comfortable taking it just about anywhere, making it a solid action and adventuring companion. For more: Canon

Tip: Pair this powerhouse body with a good lens. We recommend purchasing a Canon EF-RF mount adapter so that you can take advantage of the countless affordable used EF DSLR lenses on the market.

Sony a7C

Best for: Full-frame shooting with interchangeable lenses for traveling.

The a7C lost out last year to the Canon RP (the first full-frame, interchangeable lens camera to make our list). But the a7C offers some noteworthy features. It’s remarkably compact for a full-frame camera.

Our research suggests this camera body has the smallest full-frame, interchangeable lens with a mechanical shutter or stacked sensor on the market. This is an important distinction because there are smaller full-frame cameras, but they either have a fixed lens or do not possess a shutter/fast read out sensor. As a result, photographing moving subjects is impaired.

Despite its small size, the a7C comes loaded with Sony’s quick and dependable real-time autofocus system. Pair this camera with one of the ultra-small prime lenses from Sony, such as the Sony 24mm f/2.5, 35mm f/2.8, 40mm f/2.5, or 50mm f/2.5. Doing so will give you a wonderfully compact travel camera that keeps a full frame sensor in your hands. For more: Sony

— Tom O’Brien is a mechanical engineer and runs the photo engineering department for National Geographic. He spends his days in his workshop designing and building custom equipment for the magazine’s photographers. Eric Flynn is a machinist/fabricator who works in the photo engineering department of National Geographic, where he manages equipment loans.

#Compact Cameras

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beingcounsellor · 1 year

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When is valentines day 2023? Complete Overview

Valentine's Day 2023 is on Tuesday, February 14, 2023. So, be ready to celebrate valentine's day. Wish your best and lovely partner and give him or her a gift of flowers. The way of celebration can be different for everyone. There are lot of things to do by which you can make your valentines day memorable. Saint Valentine, a Catholic priest who lived in Rome in the third century, is the inspiration behind Valentine's Day. St. Valentine is the subject of numerous legends that developed over time to become what we now know as fact. Many Romans were turning to Christianity during Valentine's lifetime, but the pagan Emperor Claudius II imposed stringent regulations on what Christians could and could not do. Claudius forbade Roman soldiers from marrying because he thinks they should be wholly loyal to Rome. This marked the beginning of St. Valentine's reputation as a person who value love by having him wed these soldiers in covert Christian rituals. So, when is valentines day? In this article, I will give you the complete answer of this question.

The popularity of Valentine's Day Cards

One of the first Valentine's Day card enterprises in the United States. The first Valentines were rectangular in shape, made of elaborate lace, and frequently depicted poems, cherubs, heart motifs, birds, flowers, and other symbols still used to mark the day today. In spite of her cards becoming a financial success, the "mother of the American Valentine" never wed. At the same time, buying these expensive, professionally made Valentine's cards came under fire in popular literature. According to Nelson, "Sarah Hale pushes back on this concept that the real way to celebrate is to buy one of these expensive Valentine's Day cards — and other people say this, too. Sarah Hale is the editor of Godey's Lady's Book, a popular women's magazine a rather conservative attitude. A husband wasting his hard-earned money on something as pointless as a fancy paper card was not a positive indicator for the future of the marriage, according to established heteronormative roles of the time.

What is Valentine's day?

Although Valentine's Day is observed in the majority of nations, several civilizations have created their own customs for this holiday. Valentine's Day celebrates in various regions of the world as a day for showing love to family and friends rather than romantic partners. Other customs involve friends showing each other appreciation with small presents and candies for the kids. Millions of Valentine's Day cards are sent out every year, making romantic love the most popular Valentine's Day association. Couples spend special time together, and gifts of flowers or a lone red rose are sent to loved ones along with loving words.

How to celebrate valentine’s day?

- Get cooking and prepare a wonderful treat. Make these delights by dipping wafer cookies or pretzels in melted almond bark, then topping them with sprinkles. Use a family recipe or try something incredibly easy. - Share some of your delicacies in packages with your neighbors, relatives, or friends. - This month, consider sending a special care package to someone who might not get it. Send your message for the treat. - Have a family movie night with Valentine's theme. Watch Valentine's Day movie while enjoying some popcorn and chocolate candies or conversation hearts. The Peanuts Valentine's Movie is enjoyable to us. - Make your picnic Valentine-themed. Serve sandwiches with red foods like strawberries and red grapes by cutting them into hearts. Cut down the slices into heart and serve to your family. - Leave painted hearts and notes at your neighborhood park that say things like "you are special" or "you matter." - Ask a local nursing home if it's possible to send Valentine's Day cards to the residents. - Serve heart-shaped pancakes or cinnamon rolls with whipped cream, strawberries, and sprinkles as a family Valentine's brunch. - Set up boxes for each family member, and invite your friends to fill them with love letters or compliments. Pretend to be secret spies and try to avoid leaving the notes to add to the fun.

Some Interesting facts about Valentine's day

As we all know that When is valentine’s day? Here are some interesting facts about valentine’s day. 1 Cupid has its roots in Greek mythology Cupid is the charming cherub that appears on Valentine's Day cards, often depicted with a bow and arrow. But how did he become a popular Valentine's Day symbol? According to Time, the figure dates back to 700 B.C., to the Greek god of love named Eros, who was a handsome, immortal man with the intimidating power to make people fall in love. It wasn't until the 4th century BCE that the Romans transformed Eros into a cute little boy with a bow and arrow and dubbed him "Cupid." Cupid's love-matching abilities had made him synonymous with Valentine's Day by the turn of the nineteenth century. 2 Valentine's Day has its roots in an ancient Pagan festival Though some historians believe Valentine's Day commemorates St. Valentine's death on February 14, others believe the holiday derives from a Pagan fertility festival called "Lupercalia," which was celebrated on February 15 in ancient Rome. The day was celebrated by sacrificing animals and smacking women with animal hides, a practice believe to encourage fertility. It dedicate to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, and Roman founders Romulus and Remus. 3 Americans spend a lot on love According to the National Retail Foundation, Americans spend more than $20 billion on Valentine's Day gifts in 2019 and are expect to spend a record-breaking $27.4 billion in 2020 $2.4 billion of which will be spent on candy alone! People are also expecting to spend an average of $196 on Valentine's Day, with men spending around $291 and women spending $106.

Final Thoughts

The holiday is widely observed in the United States, as well as in the United Kingdom, Canada, and Australia, and it is also observed in Argentina, France, Mexico, and South Korea. It is the most common wedding anniversary in the Philippines, and mass weddings of hundreds of couples are not uncommon on that date. The holiday has evolved to include expressions of affection between relatives and friends. On this day, many schoolchildren exchange valentines with one another. So, This was all about valentines day. I hope this article will be informative for you. Read the full article

#valentinesday #valentinesday2023 #Whenisvalentinesday2023

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leanpick · 2 years

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Probe continues into SA park human remains

The death of a person whose remains were found in a conservation park northeast of Adelaide is being treated as unexplained. The remains were found by a member of the public on Tuesday in the Hale Conservation Park near Williamstown. Police protected the scene overnight with forensic experts returning on Wednesday. Officers and State Emergency Service volunteers also conducted an extensive ground…

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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Us, December 7

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: The Private Life of JFK Jr.

Page 2: Red Carpet -- polka dot print -- Jaimie Alexander, Scarlett Johansson, Lucy Hale, Kat Graham, Olivia Holt

Page 3: Lana Condor, Zoe Kravitz, Kelly Ripa, January Jones, Molly Sims

Page 4: Who Wore It Best? Janelle Monae vs. Jourdan Dunn in Vivienne Westwood

Page 6: Loose Talk -- George Clooney on starting a family, Demi Lovato poking fun at her split from ex-fiance Max Ehrich during lockdown, Kurt Russell on how Goldie Hawn inspires him to stay fit, Kelly Clarkson on how her 6-year-old daughter River pretends her computer screen freezes during Zoom school to avoid doing what’s asked, Barack Obama joking about his wife’s response if he worked at the White House again

Page 8: Contents

Page 10: Hot Pics -- Brad Pitt spent his entire day handing out groceries to low-income families in a housing project in L.A.

Page 11: Tom Cruise carried out his own stunt on the back of a motorcycle for Mission: Impossible 7 in Tivoli in Italy, Hilary Duff and Sutton Foster on the Younger set in NYC, Maggie Q modeled for a photoshoot in West Hollywood

Page 12: Pete Wentz playing tennis in L.A., Sarah Jessica Parker personally attended to customers at her SJP shoe brand store in NYC, Dua Lipa partners with Puma for their new campaign in London

Page 14: Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip received a hand-made card from great-grandchildren Prince George and Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis ahead of their 73rd anniversary in Windsor, Vanessa Hudgens matched her Ferrari for a ride around town in L.A., Mossimo Giannulli looked unrecognizable with a new buzz cut just three days before reporting to prison in Beverly Hills

Page 16: Bachelor alum Corinne Olympios wasn’t shy about packing on the PDA with boyfriend Vincent Fratantoni during a seaside vacation in Tulum in Mexico, Julia Garner filmed a scene for her upcoming series Inventing Anna in NYC, Nicole Scherzinger goes for a run in L.A.

Page 18: Kelly Osbourne having to sport an eye patch in L.A., Hugh Jackman and wife Deborra-Lee Furness bundled up for a walk with their dogs Dali and Allegra in NYC, Issa Rae at one of her favorite boutiques Queen in L.A.

Page 19: Michael Madsen cemented his star status at the TCL Chinese Theatre in L.A., Andrew Garfield put his acting face on during a scene for Lin Manuel Miranda’s Tick, Tick...Boom in NYC

Page 20: Royals They’re Just Like Us -- Duchess Kate snacks on treats, Queen Elizabeth wears a mask, Duchess Camilla avoids getting wet, Prince William loves a pint

Page 23: Stars They’re Just Like Us -- Katie Holmes reads, Brian Austin Green grocery shops, Jay-Z exercises

Page 24: Friends Furever -- Jennifer Lahmers brought pup Sophie along on a coffee date with new boyfriend Jarod Keller, Shakira and her new furry addition Max the bunny

Page 26: A Star Is Born -- Sarah Hyland is 30, flirty and thriving

Page 28: Love Lives -- due to the pandemic Matthew McConaughey and Camila Alves are having trouble finding alone time

Page 29: Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones celebrated their 20th anniversary, despite being in the public eye Taylor Swift admits she tries to find bits of normalcy in her ultra-private romance with Joe Alwyn

Page 30: Hollywood Moms -- Nikki Bella and Brie Bella on their sons

Page 31: Lala Kent may be new to pregnancy but the Vanderpump Rules star has had her fair share of parenting practice with fiance Randall Emmett’s two daughters, Tori Spelling’s five children didn’t recognize her while recently watching throwback Beverly Hills 90210 episodes, Jordin Sparks and husband Dana Isaiah are all set with their family of three

Page 34: Hot Hollywood -- Just four months after welcoming daughter Willa, Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner are already trying to have another baby

Page 35: Four months after Naya Rivera accidentally drowned in a lake her ex-husband Ryan Dorsey has filed a wrongful death lawsuit against California’s Ventura County and the county’s Parks Management and United Water Conservation District on behalf of their son Josey

* For someone who didn’t enjoy being a part of the royal family Meghan Markle sure seems interested in them -- she has started watching The Crown and she isn’t watching it behind Prince Harry’s back but Harry hasn’t been joining Meghan at the TV because he’s not interested in seeing it

* A perk of being one of George Clooney’s best friends is you’re gifted with cash just because

Page 36: A Day in the Life -- Brooke Burke

Page 37: For the cast and crew of Grey’s Anatomy having Patrick Dempsey back on set for a recent episode was a McDream -- everyone enjoyed their time with him -- when Dempsey’s character was killed off the series in 2015 there were reports at the time that his exit was ugly but he put rumors to rest with his unexpected return

Page 38: Cover Story -- The John F. Kennedy Jr. nobody knew -- in honor of what would have been his 60th birthday those closest to the late JFK Jr. reflect on his humor and wit and big heart

Page 42: Inside Sandra Bullock’s private world -- the actress has taken a step back from the spotlight to focus on life at home with her two kids

Page 46: Gift Guide

Page 52: Entertainment

Page 53: Take Five with Jack Lowden of Kindred

Page 58: Fashion Police -- Keyshia Cole, Susan Sarandon

Page 59: Kylie Jenner, Lauren Ash

Page 60: 25 Things You Don’t Know About Me -- Lea Salonga

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untilmynextstory · 4 years

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CHAPTER FOUR: Na Trioblodi

WORD COUNT: 8K

Alma tries her best to keep the more traumatic events that surround the club from her kids. She knows in the long run it may bite her in the ass, but they are under 6. There are some things that they just don't need to know. Their minds don't need to be tainted with the harsh cold reality of their world yet.

Yet, there are times it can't be avoided when they need to go to the hospital to visit members. Nathan never really questioned things. He took it at face value, or she believes he saves the hard questions for his father or even Opie.

Kaylee always asks more questions. Alma thinks she would make a good lawyer or journalist when she is older. Kaylee's brows furrow as Alma kneels down in front of her and tries to explain Chibs booboo.

Kaylee had drawn him a lovely picture to keep in his room and even "donated" one of her stuffed animals to keep him company.

"But how did he get hurt, Mommy?" Kaylee asks again.

"You know how cars have wires," Alma starts and pauses to see Kaylee nod her head. "Well, Chibs accidentally put two wires together and it caused him to get a booboo on his head."

Kaylee purses her lips and Alma thinks she is going to ask the question again. Instead her little girl takes her hand and leads her inside the hospital room.

Chibs is laying in bed. His eyes are closed and Alma thinks he is sleeping. However, his eyes open slowly and a smile comes across his face.

"Chibby!" Kaylee exclaims, but then slams her hands over her mouth.

Alma chuckles lowly.

"It's my favorite lassie." Chibs comments as he moves the bed to recline higher.

Alma places Kaylee on the bed where her little girl gives Chibs a gentle kiss on his bandage that is wrapped around his head.

"A kiss to make you feel better." Kaylee says as she settles in Chibs lap.

"I already feel better, lassie." Chibs says.

"I hope so. The only boy I kiss is Daddy and sometimes Grandpa."

Alma snorts while Chibs chuckles. "Good. You shouldn't be kissing any boys."

"Boys are gross. Besides, you and Daddy are man." Kaylee points out. "Besides, I brought you Rummy."

Kayle hands over her blue monkey to Chibs. "It is so you have a friend since I'm not allowed to spend the night."

"That's sweet of you luvie." Chibs tells her as he accepts the soft stuffed animal.

"Any idea of how long you'll be here?" Alma asks softly.

"I'll say a couple weeks if I don't have any complications. So hopefully my brain doesn't act funny."

"Are you going to be able to come to my birthday!" Kaylee cries out.

"Oh, luvie, I don't know."

Alma is surprised when the tear line Kaylee's eyes. She is immediately grabbing her daughter and holding her clothes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I want Chibs there and Daddy," she wails.

"Honey, Daddy is going to be at your party. Why wouldn't he?"

Kaylee hides her face with her small hands. "Daddy isn't home like he used to be. You and Daddy mad at each other."

Alma frowns as she cuddles Kaylee closer to her. She presses a kiss to her forehead. "Daddy will be at your party, sweetie. You'll probably get mad because he won't let you play with your friends. And Chibs booboo needs to be watched by the doctors. We'll save him some cake and you never know maybe Chibs can come over and have a tea party just you two."

Alma looks over at Chibs who is watching her with a serious face. Her troubles with Jax officially leaving the walls of her home.

Kaylee nods her head and looks back at Chibs. "I'll save you a piece of cake, Chibby."

"A lass after my own heart." He tells her.

Alma will feel awful if she ends up lying to Kaylee. It seemed Jax may end up missing his daughter's birthday as he and the club ended up in jail. They had apparently thought it would be a good idea to attack some church meeting.

From what little she gathered or cared to listen to, Gemma told her it was a set up. Alma knows it probably was, but they should've been smarter trying to get retribution for Chibs. Alma can't find it in her to feel sad or mad. She simply does not even care at this point. The only thing that matters is her childrens' happiness and safety.

She knows any happiness she has managed to conserve is going to be sucked up by her mother's upcoming visit.

She is currently at the Stockton Metropolitan Airport waiting for her mother. Apparently she is coming back from a trip from Paris with her current sugar daddy. Her mother had gladly informed her she was cutting her trip short to come to her own granddaughter's birthday party. Alma can already feel a headache forming as she looks at her mother strolling out of the airport with her designer suitcase and carry on. Her mom's eyes are hidden by the Gucci sunglasses, but by the frown on her face Alma knows her mom is about to lash at her for something.

Alma waits as her mom strolls over to the car and places her luggage in. Ana gets into the passenger side and slams the door. "You could've helped me with my bags." She snaps.

Alma sighs and just pulls out of her parking spot. "Sorry," she mumbles.

"Don't mumble," Ana tells her. "And don't be moody because your husband is locked up."

Alma looks over at her mother. "How'd you know about that?"

"Google alerts since my daughter doesn't tell me anything."

"It really isn't -" Alma begins to say, but is cut off.

"It is my business! My grandbabies are affected by this shit." Her mom practically screams. "And a fucking explosion at the garage. Those babies could've gotten hurt if they wanted to help out."

Alma purses her lips. She loves her mom. She really does, but she has never been there. Sure Alma had food, clothes, and shelter, but it seemed the moment Alma didn't conform to what Ana wanted her mother gave up instead of listening. Her mom reminds her of those pageant and dance moms she sees occasionally on TV. Her mom only wanted a good image.

After all, despite her mom's bitching, she didn't care about the criminal aspect of life. Her mom's sugar daddy has connections to the Russian Mafia. To her the mafia was cleaner than that of a motorcycle club. Alma doesn't bother pointing out her mother's hypocrisy.

"Is he even gonna be home for Kaylee's party?"

"I hope so, but it's not like this is going to be the only one he misses right." Alma remarks bitterly.

Ana chuckles. "I warned you about this. I told you what you should've done when you got pregnant."

Alma whips her head at her mother. "How can you say that! How can you look at me and tell me I should have gotten rid of Nathan."

Ana sighs. "You know I love Nathan. You were just a kid, Al. Jax knew fucking better than to mess with you. I'm still fucking confused why you spreaded your legs for him knowing how he fucked anything. You could've gotten out of this town. Out of this life."

"You can't change the past, Mom."

"Just repeat it as it seems." Ana remarks sadly.

"Grandma, why are we at a church?" Nathan asks as he licks his ice cream.

Gemma looks down at her grandchildren. Nathan is looking up at her with Jax's blue eyes. Does Gemma feel some guilt for what she is about to do. Maybe, but her boys are locked up and if Oswald can't be swayed by a pair of doe eye kids missing their daddy then the man is heartless. She just didn't want her granddaughter's birthday to be ruined by her father's absence. She knows with the charges the men have they might be going away for a while.

"We're going to visit a friend." Gemma tells him.

"Why?" Kaylee asks.

"Because I haven't seen him in a while." Gemma replies as she digs in her bag for a wipe. Somehow they always manage to get ice cream everywhere.

Kaylee tries to fight her when she is wiping her face.

"Grandma!"

"Well if you didn't get the ice cream everywhere I wouldn't have to do that." Gemma replies.

"I'm not a baby. I can wipe me face." Kaylee replies sternly.

Gemma looks at her with a raised eyebrow. She knows Kaylee is going to be trouble as a teenager for the whole family.

"Just be nice and quiet when we go in, alright?"

Both kids nod their heads and they make their way inside the church. The choir is singing beautifully and Gemma can spot Oswald's daughter in the front. She is the same age as Nathan. Oswald turns around from the side of their arrival, Gemma waves before ushering her grandchildren in the pews.

Gemma waits silently for the practice to finish. Luckily the kids were still entertained by their ice cream. As soon as the practice is over, Gemma is taken back by Tristan running over to them.

"Hi Nathan!" The girl greets with a wide smile.

"Hi, Trissy," Nathan replies and Gemma watches, entertained as her grandson's cheeks turn pink.

Tristan smiles before turning towards Gemma. "Hi, I'm Tristan."

"I'm Grandma," Gemma replies while Oswald comes up.

"Why don't you show Nathan and Kaylee the church while I talk to Gem." Oswald suggests to Tristan.

The kids don't need a verbal response as they rush out of the pews.

"She sings beautiful." Gemms starts.

"I'm gonna be out of town for the recital. Trying to catch some rehearsals." Oswald explains.

"You're a good dad."

Oswald smiles as he stuffs his hands into his suit pocket. "Sometimes I forget Jax is a dad. Him and Alma were the last couple I expected. Tris is always talking about Nathan though." He pauses as his face turns serious. "I heard about him and Clay."

"Your office told me you were here. Didn't know who else to go to." Gemma explains.

Oswald sits in the pew in front Gemma. "Maybe it's time for a lesson, Gemma, for all of us."

"Maybe." Gemma agrees slightly. "But this isn't it. Zobelle set up that bust. He's ripping apart the club. He's ripping apart charming." She tells him bluntly. "Clay outed Jacob Hale's bullshit scam, saved your land. Thought maybe you'd like to return the favor."

"How big a favor?"

Gemma licks her lips. "300 against three mil."

"Jesus Christ. I'd have to put up the same land for that kind of bail. One infraction, one guy splits, I lose it all. I lose it all." He explains to her hotly.

"They're not safe, Elliot. If I don't get them out of there, I might not see any of them again. Nathan and Kaylee might not see their father again."

Oswald doesn't say anything as he gives her a closed lipped smile. Gemma stands as she digs in her bag. "I'm not sure if Tristan got an invitation." Gemma passes over the invitation to Kaylee's upcoming birthday party.

Jax sits in the stiff metal chair with the cuffs around his wrists as he waits for Stahl to be done with her pissing contest. He doesn't know what she gets from having him sitting alone in a room especially in prison. If anything it's welcomed considering the shit show the club has found themselves in.

It was clear Zobelle had connections everywhere with how early on Juice was able to get attacked. They were lucky that Half Sack was able to pull his weight in getting his top rocker in securing them protection through Laroy. However, he was right in telling Clay that it would be stupid to make such a rash decision regarding retaliation. They would be playing right into Zobelle's hands and look where that got them. In jail and Clay decided to throw his fists at him for whatever bullshit Stahl managed to trigger in Clay.

Finally Stahl shows her face as she enters the room with an infamous manilla folder. She sits down and smiles at him. He is brought back to the last time they were in a room together where she brought him the worst news of his life.

"I know you want the MC on a better path. Put some distance between the law and the harleys. Legit porn business is proof of that. It's real smart, Jax. My guess is that you don't even want to be dealing guns." Stahl begins as she sits up straighter and opens the folder, which reveals pictures of their Irish contact Cameron Hayes meeting with Zobelle. "I'm not after SAMCRO. I want Cameron Hayes's true IRA contacts. Consider it retaliation for the Mick assholes jumping ship. And we both know that you'll never win this war against Zobelle."

"I'm not in a war." Jax replies.

Stahl smirks as she tilts her head. "You look pretty battle-worn to me." She replies back. "Look, I don't give a shit about this beef between you and Clay. Your club, your business. But maybe I can help you repair the damage, very least keep you alive. How long do you think you're gonna last out there on the yard?" She taunts. "They will pick you off, one by one, same way they did Juice."

"Then get us a decent bail." Jax answers as he leans back in his chair.

"I'll do better than that." She promises. "You give me inroads to the Irish, I'll get you and the club full immunity. I might even be able to get Otto's parole back on track."

The room is silent as they stare at each other. Jax isn't stupid nor is she. He will give it to Stahl she is a manipulative bitch who knows how to do her job for the most part.

"You have to think past your hatred for me." She implores. "You're smarter than that. I am offering you a bigger picture."

Jax isn't prepared for the next pictures that she pulls out. It is of Alma with the kids. They are at a park and the kids are smiling wide and happy. However, looking at Alma, despite the smile on her face, he can tell in her oversized cardigan that his wife isn't happy.

"You have a great girl, beautiful kids. I know how much they mean to you. I heard you and your wife have been having marital troubles and can't fix that from a prison cell, Jax."

Jax shakes his head and gives her a nasty smile. "You know my family...being a father...they've given me a new pair of glasses. Find myself thinking about the things I do, things I say. Ramifications." Jax leans up and looks down at the photos. "You have to. Not as angry or reactive. I can see that. For instance, you showing me these photos, trying to play my rage, my need for revenge. It didn't work." He tells her bluntly. "See, I was able to take a moment, think. And I realized that if we did have a relationship with the Irish... Which of course, we don't... What'd stop me from tipping them off? Letting 'em know you got 'em under thumb? You took a huge risk playing that card, which means you're desperate. You got nothing."

"You really are the smart one." She muses as she stands up and gathers her things. "By the way... Your bail was posted. You're all free to go and make sure you say hi to your mother in law for me. Heard she was back in town."

Alma is up late at night wrapping the presents for Kaylee's party. She had picked up last minute gifts for her daughter for the party. Gemma was actually going to keep the kids for the next couple days so the set up for the party could be a surprise for Kaylee.

She had headphones in her ear so she didn't hear anything or even feel the vibration from the door closing. She has placed the last piece of tape on the present when her eyes just flick forward for a brief second and they fly back to the figure standing in the doorway. Alma almost screams at the site before she realizes it is Jax.

Her body instantly relaxes at the sight of her husband and she removes her headphones. She pushes the presents away as she stands up. She is only wearing a simple white tank and just a pair of black cotton panties.

Jax's gaze is just burning her. He isn't speaking. Alma looks him over and she can see some cuts and bruises on his face. She walks over to him slowly and her arms wrap around him tentatively.

She isn't going to ask about the wounds. She knows she won't get an answer. She is surprised when his arms come around her and he holds her tightly. She is pressed tightly into him. She thinks she could cry. Even in his warmth, she still feels so cold. She doesn't move away and she only closes her eyes as she listens to his heartbeat.

They stay that way for a while until she feels his hands trail down her body. They settle on her hips and his fingers dip below the band of her underwear. She leans away from him a little.

"Jax…" She questions as to what he is doing, or more so what this even means.

It's instinctive as he moves his hands to cup her thighs and brings her up that she needs to wrap her legs around him.

Their lips meet instantly. Jax is walking them towards the bed as their tongues clash together. Her legs become tighter because despite how much she feels as if she hates her husband, she loves him just the same.

He lays her down on the bed and she quickly discards her shirt while he grabs at her underwear ripping them off quickly. He pulls away from her and he rids himself of his shirt while Alma works to unbuckle his belt buckle. Jax pushes her hands away. He scoots to the end of the bed and his hands grip her thighs as he moves her with him to the edge of the bed.

His fingertips graze her thighs as they trail past her stomach to her breasts. Their eyes lock on each other as his fingers circle her nipples. He pinches them and tugs causing her stomach to clench. He leans forward and captures her nipples in her mouth and her hands come up into his hair for support. His tongue worked on her nipples making them hard to the point it stung a bit. Alma bucks her hips up for some type of relief before he pulls away. He brings his fingers up to her mouth and Alma immediately opens up and takes his fingers. She moans as she coats them before he tugs them out of her mouth and trails down between her legs. His fingers ghosted over her center in a teasing manner as he moved up and down her and circled her opening before he moved his attention to her clit.

"Fuck," she moans out as it catches her by surprise.

"Let me hear you," Jax tells her as he applies more pressure and sinks his middle finger inside her.

Alma can feel the clenching in her abdomen as her toes begin to curl as he massages her clit with his thumb while fingering her.

"Come for me, darlin'," Jax demands.

Alma's body clenched as she felt her fire ignite her body. Her thighs tremble from her orgasm and she is still coming down from her high when she feels him lick a long stripe up her folds.

"Jax!" Her hips buck up as her grip on his hair tightens. It was almost painful as he traced a pattern against her clit. His fingers dug into her thighs and Alma knows there might be bruises tomorrow morning. She was caught off guard when Jax sucked on her clit and nibbled it and it triggered a second release.

She screamed when she felt Jax slam into her and her walls clamped down hard around him. He didn't give her a moment of reprieve as he started to thrust slowly, but deeply in and out of her.

"Shit...Jax," Alma moans out as she tightens her legs around him. Her hands moving from his hair to his shoulders.

Jax moves one of her legs so it rests on top of his shoulder. Alma moves her arms so that she clenches the bedsheets.

Alma cries out from the change in position. "Jax...I -"

"Give me one more, Alma," Jax demands.

Alma opens her mouth, but no sounds come out as her mind goes blank.

"Fuck!" Jax roars as he chases his releases.

She can feel warm spurts coating her walls. She comes down from her high she is well aware of the mess between her thighs that have leaked to the sheets. She hisses as Jax pulls out from her.

"Fuck, babe," Jax whispers.

Alma somehow manages to look down. Her thighs are still twitching as she watches Jax's fingers ghost over her thighs. She whimpers as she feels Jax push his fingers back into her and keep his release there.

Her mind is foggy still and she almost misses the words he says that clears any ounce of peace and relaxation she has.

"I want another baby."

Jax thinks he would prefer to be in a standoff with the Mayans than standing directly across from his mother in law. Ana always had a way of getting under his skin. Not only his, but everyone around her. He dreads even letting his kids be near the devil in disguise.

However, coming back from lockup, the last thing he wants to deal with her in his kitchen staring him down. Maybe Alma could have given him a better warning than waking him up to inform him that her mom was there before she dashed off to fucking somewhere. Considering how he ambushed her last night, her mother was probably the last thing on her mind.

He doesn't know how Chico dealt with Ana for how long as he did. Of course, Ana is a beautiful woman despite the shitty personality. Alma gets her looks from her mother because if how Ana is aging is any indication of how Alma is, he is going to be a very lucky man.

Yet, as he stirs his coffee, Ana has been glaring at him since he walked into the kitchen while she drank her own cup while pretending to read the newspaper.

Jax runs his hand down his face. "Is there a problem?"

"Your face looks like it hurts." She replies as she places the newspaper down.

"Your concern touches me." Jax mocks.

"One day Alma will wake up."

"Ana, I really don't feel like dealing with this shit."

"Do you really think I care?" Ana retorts.

"Actually, no I don't. I don't' think you care much about anything except for what guy is gonna write you a check."

Ana laughs. "Do you think those words hurt me?" She flicks her hair over her shoulders. "They don't. Nothing your mom or you can say will cause me to lose any sleep at night. In fact, you just wasted your breath." Ana stands up and folds her newspaper. "Alma was young - is young. The betrayal of what you did...that will never fade. Fucking her and trying to get her pregnant isn't going to keep her here."

Jax shakes his head. "I'm not doing this."

Ana snorts. "Of course you don't. I'm not putting you on a pedestal."

Jax is glad that their house is big enough where he can hide and not come into contact with Ana. Although, he is sure she left the house shortly after their "talk". So he has been mostly left to his own devices. He at first was gonna head to the club as the last place he wanted to be was his house. However, he wasn't going to run away from his problems. He wasn't going to play right into Ana's hands. He knows her favorite thing to do is playing mind games with people. He might have fallen into that trap.

So he decided to work out and try to burn off that anger because at the end of the day, whatever is going on between him and Alma is between him and Alma.

He did a brutal workout that left his arms feeling like noodles. He walked into the kitchen to refill his bottle of water before jumping into the shower when the front door opened. He is silent as Alma comes in carrying some grocery bags no doubt filled with more party supplies for Kaylee.

"Hey," Alma greets with a bright smile.

"What the fuck are you telling your mother?"

Alma's smile deems immediately. "What?"

"She seemed to have a lot to say about the state of our marriage."

"She always has something to say Jax." Alma replies as she begins to put away the groceries. "I'm surprised you would even listen to her."

"Well it seems that I have to listen when my wife isn't talking to me."

"Talk?" Alma sputters in disbelief. "Since when in the fuck do you even want to talk?"

Jax and Alma stare at each other before Alma is the first one to break away by shaking her head.

They don't speak to each other for the rest of the day.

Alma smiles as she watches the group of kids running around in her backyard. The turn up of kids was quite surprising. Most of the kids are from Nathan's class who have younger siblings that are closer to Kaylee's age. Considering that Kaylee hadn't been in daycare, the only friends she has managed to make were from the many hours they clocked in at the playground.

However, Alma is aware that most of these parents are just curious as how the Tellers are living.

With the flurry of activity, it has led her to keep her distance with Jax. They have a semi united front. She just has been keeping her distance. This day is about Kaylee turning 5. Her baby is getting older and there doesn't need to be any drama.

Alma picks up some trash and throws it in one of the garbage bins before heading back into the house to get the birthday cake. She knows Kaylee is itching to open some of her many birthday gifts.

Alma heads into the house and begins gathering the materials she needs. She is grabbing the candles and the lighter when the backdoor opens. She looks up and she is surprised to see Gemma is the one to walk through the door.

Gemma has been the main person keeping the kids all together and making sure nothing can ruin her granddaughter's day.

"You better be careful with Tristian and Nathan out there."

Alma laughs. "He has a crush. Let him be."

Gemma snorts. "I'm pretty sure he is already planning their engagement."

"I bet Karen would love that." Alma tells her. "I'm sure Clay would really love that."

Gemma snorts. "So I do want to know what your mom and Jax said to each other for them to act like they don't exist?"

"Honestly, I am not all that sure what my mom said." Alma reveals truthfully. "But I know best not to get in between that."

"Still, it must be alot on you."

"Mom only visits a few times a year and afterwards I treat myself to a nice spa day." Alma jokes.

"You know...your dad would be proud of who you've become. It's a shame he isn't here."

Alma nods her head. Alma never knows what to say when it comes to comments about her dad. She loves him and the few memories she can remember. She knows he was trying his best to be a good father. She also knows that it didn't erase his faults as a man involved in an outlaw club or the fact he treated her mother like shit. She knows there are things she doesn't know about her parents' relationship. She knows at one point they had loved each other. Yet, her dad had broken something in her mom to turn her into the person her mom has become.

Besides, Alma thinks if her dad was alive he wouldn't approve of her relationship with Jax.

She knows if her father was alive, the path her life has taken wouldn't be the same.

"I wish the kids would have been able to meet him."

Gemma goes to answer, but the doorbell goes off. Alma leaves the kitchen and heads to the front door. She checks the side window and frowns at the sight of David Hale. She opens the door with a confused smile.

"I don't remember sending you an invitation." She jokes.

David gives a sad smile. "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you guys should hear this from me."

"Al, who's at the door?" Gemma asks as she walks into the hallway.

"Hi, Gemma," David says as he walks into the house a bit. "You should sit down for this."

"What's going on?" Gemma demands. She doesn't move to sit. She just stares David down.

David sighs as he focuses on Gemma. "We just found Luann Delaney off county 18. Beaten to death. There's no other details right now. I'm sorry."

Gemma is frozen and Alma doesn't have any words.

At that moment, there is laughter coming from the kitchen. Alma recognizes them as Jax's.

"Alma?" Jax calls out.

"Excuse me," Alma tells David and Gemma before she walks back into the kitchen. Jax has a birthday hat on and he is admiring the birthday cake on the table.

Jax looks up at her and his smile fades. "What's wrong?"

Alma takes a shaky breath. "Luann was killed."

Alma never had to plan a funeral before. Luckily it seemed Luann had her wishes already laid out. Based on the dates on some of the paperwork, it seemed she had been prepared since Otto got locked up. Luann already had the plot, casket, and gravestone picked out for both her and Otto.

Somehow they were able to get through the party and didn't say anything until the guests left. Alma didn't engage in the conversation. She took care of getting the kids ready for bed. She really couldn't find anything to say about this. The only thing she does know is that Luann was having trouble with another porn producer, but she really doesn't want to think about porn scabbles would really lead to murder.

Her heart just went out to Otto. She knows most likely that he won't be able to even attend his wife's own funeral. And to lose her in such a violent way, she can't imagine that pain.

Alma just knows that now she has to get in touch with a lot of people in the adult entertainment industry to set up some type of memorial for Luann. She thinks she'll asks a few of the girls to help with that.

Alma buries her head in her hands and resists the urge to cry. Luann had always done so much for her and looked out for her. Luann was the only old lady that ever reminded Alma that she needs to come first before her old man.

The sound of her doorbell going off causes her to jump. She wipes her face in case any renegade tears managed to slip before answering the door. She is surprised to find Unser standing on the other side.

"Sheriff?"

He gives her a small smile. "Hey, Alma, sorry to come over unannounced. I'm looking for Jax."

"He is visiting Otto. Don't when he is going to be back. What's going on?"

Unser sighs and she can see the internal debate of wanting to tell her. "Couple of the girls were busted in a prostitution sting. One mentioned Jax was their boss."

"Fucking great," Alma mutters.

Jax thinks telling Otto that Luann was murdered and he believed his actions led up to it was one of the hardest things he has ever done. It is easily the worst and he can't even imagine the pain his brother is in. His brother entrusted him and the club to protect Luann. To take care of her since he couldn't. He sacrificed years with Luann for the club and the club couldn't keep their end of the bargain.

Jax parks his bike in his driveway. He had plans to go to the club and get a rundown of what they had planned for the day, but right now he doesn't want to be near his brothers. He just wants his family. But he knows the kids are with his mom and Alma was at the house setting up Luann's funeral.

He enters the house through the side door that leads into the kitchen from the laundry room. He finds Alma standing by the stove and it seems she is making some tea. She was never one to really drink coffee.

She looks up at him and gives him a sad smile. "How was Otto?"

"Broken." He tells her simply as he leans against the counter opposite.

Alma folds her arms across her chest. "Are they going to let him go to the funeral?"

"He said probably not as he and the Warden are in a pissing contest."

Alma kisses her teeth and he moves to get closer to him, but she turns around causing him to frown.

"Unser stopped by." She informs him.

"Yeah?"

"Apparently a couple girls were busted for prostition."

Jax rolls his eyes. He almost growled in frustration. "You gotta be shitting me."

"Named you boss. Unser said he would be at the station."

"Jesus Christ."

"This isn't going to mess with your charges is it?" Alma asks softly.

"I don't know. It's not like they have any proof."

"They work at Cara Cara, Jax. You are now practically the owner. It is not going to take long to connect those dots." Alma points out. "Have you even thought about what it means for you to be possibly going to jail, Jax?"

"Are we really going to have this talk now?" He questions her. Jax thinks this is the last thing they need to be worrying about. He doesn't even have a court date yet. They can worry about logistics later.

"No, I guess not."

The teapot screams.

Jax is tried. He is exhausted. It took them forever to find leverage for the judge so he would drop the case against the Chinese's contact. It's early in the morning - very early. The kids will still be sleeping, but as he walks through the door he can hear Alma in the kitchen getting breakfast ready.

He knows he should immediately make the move to shower and wash off the day. Instead he walks into the kitchen and sits at the breakfast island. Alma's eyes flicker over to him. From the profile, he can tell his wife is tired.

He has noticed the dark spots under her eyes have been increasing since Luann's death. He didn't realize Luann was teaching her about business. Alma has been handling a lot of Cara Cara's paperwork with Bobby as they figure out where to go next in leadership to oversee Cara Cara. Jax is proud of his wife and he realizes he hasn't said it or even showed her.

Yet, he has found his wife has gone out of her way to never be alone with him. She uses the kids as a buffer and when he comes home to go to bed she is already asleep. She also keeps her distance at Cara Cara.

He is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize she made him a cup of coffee until it is sliding in front of him.

"Thanks, darlin'." He tells her.

She smiles as she goes back to what he realizes is cutting up some fruit. He can see that she has taken out bacon and sausage and she has supplies to make French Toast.

"How long you've been up?" He asks her.

"About 30 minutes."

"You need some help?"

That causes her to look up at him confused. "I'm good, Jax."

"Babe…"

Alma sighs. "I don't want to do this right now."

"We need to talk."

Alma looks at him and he can tell she wants to say more, but she doesn't.

"I'm lost here, Alma." Jax tells her the truth. He doesn't know how to fix anything between them. He doesn't know how to go back to where they were. "I'm trying to put it back together, but... I don't know if I can."

Things with Clay are shit and the club can't see fucking straight with how hard ZObelle is coming at him. At the end of the day, all he wants is his wife.

Maybe it's pity, or she believes him as she looks him directly in the eyes. "I know."

He can feel the tears building. His throat is getting thick with emotions. "I just feel so far away from you now." He reveals. "I know that's my fault." He admits and takes the blame. "Please, just tell me, how do I get back?"

Alma closes her eyes and she turns her head from him. She shakes her head. "I don't know if you can."

Jax can feel his heart breaking. He can feel this is the end of his marriage. "Babe... please let me back in." He begs.

Alma opens her mouth, but the phone cuts her off.

"Ignore it."

She doesn't listen as she goes to the landline. Her back is turned, but he notices she becomes tenser than before. He becomes confused when she ends the call mentioning Hale's name.

"What is it?"

"There was a fire at Cara Cara."

"This is a lovely house." Stahl tells Alma as they wait for Jax to arrive. Coming back from the grocery store with the kids, the last thing Alma expected was for Agent Stahl to be on her doorstep. Alma had quickly told the kids to play outside while Alma told Jax he needed to come home immediately. So now she is entertaining the ATF agent who is making herself comfortable on her couch.

"Thanks," Alma says briskly as she darts her eyes between Stahl and her kids.

"I'm also sorry to hear about Luann."

"No, you're not." Alma fires back. "If you were you would be looking for her killer."

"Unfortunately, my area of criteria is alcohol, firearms, and tobacco."

"Convenient, so why are you on my doorstep." Alma fire back.

"You're not like Gemma, are you?" Stahl muses. "I mean with the few meetings of your mother, you seem to take after her."

Alma rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you and my mother got along great."

"DIdn't have nice things to say about your father or your husband."

"Tell me something I already don't know."

Stahl's eyes light up in glee, but before she can say anything Jax is walking into the house.

"What's up? Text was vague." He asks before he spots Stahl. His jaw instantly hardens. "You got a warrant?"

"You see me searching?"

"I got nothing to say to you." Jax fires back before turning to Alma. "Where's the kids?"

"In the backyard."

"Look at you two." Stahl coos. "Ozzy and Harriet."

"Shut up." Alma snaps.

"Get out, now." Jax orders the federal agent.

Stahl's smile is sickening. "I was just curious, Jax. I just wanted to know why you were leaving SAMCRO."

That causes Alma's head to snap towards her husband. She can't hide the shock at that news.

Jax looks guilty as he looks down at Alma. "Give me a minute?"

Alma doesn't argue as she goes outside with the kids. Jax doesn't hide his wince as she slams the door.

"I'm sorry, I thought old ladies were privy. Has she got issues with the extracurricular?" Stahl says mockingly.

"Just say it."

"Same pitch. The Irish screwed you, so you screw them back. More importantly, you screw Ethan Zobelle. You even the score, you protect the MC."

"Same response. I don't rat." Jax replies.

"Sons are living in grace, sweetheart. You're not my target now. But if you don't help me, I will come after you." Stahl threatens.

"You know with Alma doing nails...does she have permit to practice? I'm curious on how a mechanic and nail technician can afford such a house especially with Kaylee's medical bills."

"You're so full of shit."

Stahl smiles. "It was nice talking to you Jax."

Jax doesn't leave his spot until he watches Stahl leave his house. He sighs and knows he is about to be in a world of shit. He moves to the sliding door and finds Alma sitting on one of the lounge couches watching the kids get dirty in the sand box.

Jax's feet have barely touched the deck when Alma speaks.

"What was she talking about?"

Jax slides the door closed and he sits next to his wife despite knowing he could be for some bodily danger. "I'm joining the nomad charter of the Sons."

"Did you conveniently forget you have two kids at home. You can't be heading up fucking north for church every week, Jax." Alma thinks she can throttle her husband. She wants to. She wants to scream, cry, and maybe get a few slaps out of him.

"I got to do this. I need space between me and Clay."

"Why?"

"I just need to do this." Jax tells her. He doesn't even know if he can explain how since his mom's car accident things have been different. The stress of Zobelle is eating at all of them. He knows it's best to take some space.

"I ride independently for a few years and wait for him to step down." He adds.

"A few years?" Alma scoffs. "We've barely made it through the last few months. You made this decision without me."

"Well what else am I supposed to do when you won't fucking talk to me."

"Do not put you going Nomad on me!" Alma hisses. "You don't tell me shit. You haven't since you came back...since Ben…" Alma gets choked up. Jax licks his lips because he is not even sure what he wants to say. Alma takes a breath. "I can't do this anymore."

Jax's brows furrow. "What?"

"I can't." Alma tells him as she stands up and moves to head back in the house.

"Al, wait," Jax tries to grab her hand, but she pulls away quickly leaving him all alone outside.

With a clubhouse full of visiting members and family, the kids are occupied and cared for. Alma decides to take a breather and walks down to Jax's dorm room where they are staying until things with Zobelle are handled.

A Lot has happened the last few days, which have been overwhelming. Alma isn't even sure how to digest a lot of what was told to her. The first truth to be revealed was the Gemma's car accident was in reality a rape. She was raped by a man name Weston, who happened to be Zobelle's right hand man. Gemma's attack was orchestrated by Zobelle along with the club being sent to prison, the burning of Cara Cara, and recent issues with the Irish. With that, the tension of Gemma's trauma and her relationship with Clay being affected led to Clay making decisions in the club that rubbed Jax wrong. It was the cause of the tension that made Jax want to go Nomad. Although none of that changed, her marriage and it's strain could be easily explained and fixed. Now the club is on lockdown as they have formed a plan to deal with Zobelle.

Alma walks out of the bathroom and is startled to find Jax sitting on the edge of the bed. He gives her a tight smile. The thing with Alma is she knows how to be an old lady. She knows where to play the part so no cracks can be seen. She knows that leads to a lot of false comfort mostly to Jax.

Her instinct is to stay standing by the desk but she moves over to the bed and sits on the edge.

"Everything okay?" She asks quietly.

Jax nods his head. "I love you, Alma. I know since I came home I haven't done my best to show you. I have to live with that consequence. When this is done...if you need me out the house. If you want to take the kids away for a bit, I'll do what you want me to."

Alma isn't sure how to respond. She isn't exactly sure what she wants. If anything in these past few months she has learned her life revolves around Jax. She isn't sure of who she is outside of her marriage.

"Do you want a divorce?" Jax asks her quietly.

"You know I would never keep the kids from you Jax." Alma promises. Despite the mistakes and hurt she and Jax make in their relationship that would be put aside for the sake of their children.

"No matter what, I'll always take care of you, Al." Jax promises and she knows he means it.

"Jax…" Alma isn't sure what to say and she doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing.

Jax stands up from the bed and moves to stand in front of her. His smile is sad and he bends down and places a kiss on her forehead. He walks away and out of the room and Alma tries to muffle the sobs that escape her throat.

Jax and the club are outside of a small deli as they watch Zobelle. Tig is working on getting people to leave the premises as quick as they can. They can't enact revenge with women, children, and innocents around.

Jax can feel the burning in his veins to get vengeance for his mother. Sure, killing Weston felt good. A weight lifted from his shoulders a bit, but the main objective is Zobelle. He is the mastermind behind everything.

After he handles this, he can work on his marriage. He can do everything he can to focus on mending his relationship with Alma. He hopes they can find their way back to each other. He can be a better husband, father, and man. He is pacing in front of the store, his eyes covered by his sunglasses when he feels his phone vibrating.

He looks at the ID and sees it's Alma.

She knows what today means and wouldn't be calling unless it was an emergency. He answers the phone and doesn't like the feeling that settles in his gut.

He can hear crying, screaming, and he swears an ambulance.

"Al, what's wrong?" He asks over the chaos on the end of her line.

Her broken sobs reach his ears. The phone falls out of his hand and Jax thinks he fell to his knees and maybe almost toppled his bike before the guys intervened.

"What is it?" Clay barks at him.

Jax is in a daze. Zobelle is forgotten as he gets to his bike. He has to get to St. Thomas.

"Kay...Kaylee's…" Jax can't finish the sentence. He doesn't even want to have it escape his lips. "I gotta go to St. Thomas."

#the unknown #soa fanfiction #soa #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax x oc

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Oscar Stanton De Priest

Oscar Stanton De Priest (March 9, 1871 – May 12, 1951) was an American politician and civil rights advocate from Chicago. A member of the Illinois Republican Party he was the first African American to be elected to Congress in the 20th century. During his three terms, he was the only African American serving in Congress. He served as a U.S. Representative from Illinois' 1st congressional district from 1929 to 1935. De Priest was also the first African-American U.S. Representative from outside the southern states and the first since the exit of North Carolina representative George Henry White from Congress in 1901.

Born in Alabama to freedmen parents, De Priest was raised in Dayton, Ohio. He studied business and made a fortune in Chicago as a contractor, and in real estate and the stock market before the Crash. A successful local politician, he was elected to the Chicago City Council in 1914, the first African American to hold that office.

In Congress in the early 1930s, he spoke out against racial discrimination, including at speaking events in the South; tried to integrate the House public restaurant; gained passage of an amendment to desegregate the Civilian Conservation Corps, one of the work programs under President Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal; and introduced anti-lynching legislation to the House (it was not passed because of the Solid South Democratic opposition). In 1934, De Priest was defeated by Arthur W. Mitchell, the first African American to be elected as a Democrat to Congress. De Priest returned to Chicago and his successful business ventures, eventually returning to politics, when he was again elected Chicago alderman in the 1940s.

Early life

De Priest was born in 1871 in Florence, Alabama, to freedmen, former slaves of mixed race. He had a brother named Robert. His mother, Martha Karsner, worked part-time as a laundress, and his father Neander was a teamster, associated with the "Exodus" movement. After the Civil War, thousands of blacks left continued oppression by whites in the South by moving to other states that offered promises of freedom and greater economic opportunities, such as Kansas. Others moved later in the century.

In 1878, the year after Reconstruction had ended and federal troops been withdrawn from the region, the De Priests left Alabama for Dayton, Ohio. Violence had increased in Alabama as whites had tried to restore white supremacy: the elder De Priest had to save his friend, former U.S. Representative James T. Rapier, from a lynch mob, and a black man was killed on their doorstep. The boy Oscar attended local schools in Dayton.

Career

Business

De Priest went to Salina, Kansas, to study bookkeeping at the Salina Normal School, established also for the training of teachers. In 1889 he moved to Chicago, Illinois, which had been booming as an industrial city. He worked first as an apprentice plasterer, house painter, and decorator. He became a successful contractor and real estate broker. He built a fortune in the stock market and in real estate by helping black families move into formerly all-white neighborhoods, often ones formerly occupied by ethnic white immigrants and their descendants. There was population succession in many neighborhoods under the pressure of new migrants.

Politics

From 1904 to 1908, De Priest was a member of the board of commissioners of Cook County, Illinois.

De Priest was elected in 1914 to the Chicago City Council, serving from 1915 to 1917 as alderman from the 2nd Ward, on the South Side. He was Chicago's first black alderman. In 1917 De Priest was indicted for alleged graft and resigned from the City Council. He hired nationally known Clarence Darrow as his defense attorney and was acquitted. He was succeeded in office by Louis B. Anderson.

In 1919, De Priest ran unsuccessfully for alderman as a member of the People's Movement Club, a political organization he founded. In a few years, De Priest's black political organization became the most powerful of many in Chicago, and he became the top black politician under Chicago Republican mayor William Hale Thompson.

In 1928, when Republican congressman Martin B. Madden died, Mayor Thompson selected De Priest to replace him on the ballot. He was the first African American elected to Congress outside the South and the first to be elected in the 20th century. He represented the 1st Congressional District of Illinois (which included The Loop and part of the South Side of Chicago) as a Republican. During the 1930 election, De Priest was challenged in the primary by noted African-American spokesperson, orator, and Republican Roscoe Conkling Simmons. De Priest defeated Simmon's primary challenge and won the general election afterward. During De Priest's three consecutive terms (1929–1935), he was the only black representative in Congress. He introduced several anti-discrimination bills during these years of the Great Depression.

DePriest's 1933 amendment barring discrimination in the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), a program of the New Deal to employ people across the country in building infrastructure, was passed by the Senate and signed into law by President Franklin D. Roosevelt. His anti-lynching bill failed due to opposition by the white conservative Democrats of the Solid South, although it would not have made lynching a federal crime. (Previous anti-lynching bills had also failed to pass the Senate, which was dominated by the South since its disenfranchisement of blacks at the turn of the century.) A third proposal, a bill to permit a transfer of jurisdiction if a defendant believed he or she could not get a fair trial because of race or religion, was passed by a later Congress.

Civil rights activists criticized De Priest for opposing federal aid to the poor. Nevertheless, they applauded him for making public speeches in the South despite death threats. They also praised De Priest for telling an Alabama senator he was not big enough to prevent him from dining in the private Senate restaurant. (Some Congressmen ate in the Senate restaurant to avoid De Priest, who usually ate in the Members Dining Room designated for Congressmen.) The public areas of the House and Senate restaurants were segregated. The House accepted that De Priest sometimes brought black staff or visitors to the Members Dining Room, but objected when he entertained mixed groups there.

De Priest defended the right of students of Howard University, a historically black college in Washington, D.C., to eat in the public section of the House restaurant and not be restricted to a section in the basement near the kitchen, used mostly by black employees and visitors. He took this issue of discrimination against the students (and other black visitors) to a special bipartisan House committee. In a three-month-long heated debate, the Republican political minority argued that the restaurant's discriminatory practice violated 14th Amendment rights to equal access. The Democratic majority skirted the issue by claiming that the restaurant was a private facility and not open to the public. The House restaurant remained segregated through much of the 1940s and maybe as late as 1952.

In 1929, De Priest made national news when First Lady Lou Hoover invited his wife, Jessie De Priest, to a traditional tea for congressional wives at the White House.

De Priest appointed Benjamin O. Davis Jr. to the United States Military Academy at a time when the only African-American line officer in the Army was Davis's father.

By the early 1930s, De Priest's popularity waned because he continued to oppose higher taxes on the rich and fought Depression-era federal relief programs under President Roosevelt. De Priest was defeated in 1934 by Democrat Arthur W. Mitchell, who was also African American. After returning to his businesses and political life in Chicago, De Priest was elected again to the Chicago City Council in 1943 as alderman of the 3rd Ward, serving until 1947. He died in Chicago at 80 and is buried in Graceland Cemetery.

Personal life

Oscar married the former Jessie L. Williams (c. 1873 – March 31, 1961). They had two sons together: Laurence W. (c. 1900 – July 28, 1916), who died at the age of 16 and Oscar Stanton De Priest, Jr. (May 24, 1906 – November 8, 1983) A great-grandson of Oscar De Priest, Jr., Philip R. DePriest, became the administrator of his estate after his grandmother's death in 1992. This included his great-grandfather's Oscar Stanton De Priest House, now a National Historic Landmark, which still held his locked political office. This had not been touched since about 1951. This great-grandson has been working to restore the office and house, and assessing the political archives—"a veritable treasure trove."

Legacy and honors

The Oscar Stanton De Priest House in Chicago, at 45th and King Drive, has been designated as a National Historic Landmark and city landmark.

See also

List of African American firsts

List of African-American United States Representatives

Oscar Stanton De Priest House

Jessie De Priest

References

Bibliography

Day, S. Davis. "Herbert Hoover and Racial Politics: The De Priest Incident". Journal of Negro History 65 (Winter 1980): 6-17

Nordhaus-Bike, Anne. "Oscar DePriest lived Pisces's call to service, unity." Gazette, March 7, 2008.

Olasky, Martin. "History turned right side up". WORLD magazine. 13 February 2010. p. 22.

Rudwick, Elliott M. "Oscar De Priest and the Jim Crow Restaurant in the U.S. House of Representatives". Journal of Negro Education 35 (Winter 1966): 77–82.

External links

United States Congress. "Oscar Stanton De Priest (id: D000263)". Biographical Directory of the United States Congress.

Search for National Historic Landmark: Oscar De Priest House, National Park Service

“DE PRIEST, Oscar Stanton”, History, Art & Archives, U.S. House of Representatives

Shelley Stokes-Hammond, Biographical sketch: "Pathbreakers: Oscar Stanton DePriest and Jessie L. Williams DePriest", The White House Historical Association

"The DePriest Family Legacy", Video Interview/YouTube, White House Historical Association

#03/09 #05/12

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jewish-privilege · 5 years

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After months of discussion, the Highland Park Borough Council brought their resolution on anti-Semitism to a vote on Tuesday, October 29. The final result, at the end of the nearly four-hour, standing room-only meeting, was a 3-3 tie, with Mayor Gayle Brill Mittler casting the tie-breaking vote to table. The mayor had previously supported the legislation, and asked for a new version to be presented at the next council meeting on November 12.

Public comments and debate significantly exceeded the originally allotted time. Attendees in the room were, according to different descriptions, between two-thirds and one-half favor of the resolution, which would have condemned anti-Semitism and included the BDS (Boycott, Divest, and Sanctions) movement as an example of anti-Semitism.

Compounding the problem was that the resolution put up for vote was slightly changed earlier in the evening, replacing the working version that had been posted on the council website last week. The resolution spoke of condemning all forms of anti-Semitism from “both ends of the political spectrum,” including bias, hate speech, discriminatory behavior, and hate-based groups, and charged that “components of BDS activities” are anti-Semitic.

In introducing the new resolution, Councilman Matt Hale noted that the council was in receipt of approximately 100 emails and three petitions, with approximately two-thirds in favor of the resolution and one-third against. He also called out the lack of civility in discussions about the topic and implored the audience to keep the discussion respectful and polite.

Among supporters of the resolution, community resident John Kovac urged the Council to “say no to hate,” adding that anti-Semitism exists in societies specifically when it is unchallenged. Jeff Schreiber reminded the council that the Holocaust era began with the boycott of Jewish businesses in Germany and that BDS should be considered anti-Semitic because it singles out the only democracy and only Jewish country in the Middle East, while other countries with terrible records on humanitarianism are given a pass.

Andrew Getraer, a Highland Park resident who serves as director of Hillel at Rutgers University, said the resolution condemning BDS and anti-Semitism was unique because all the local Orthodox, Reform, and Conservative rabbis agreed—something that does not happen very often. If the council wants to eliminate anti-Semitism, it must eliminate all forms, including BDS, he said.

Rabbi Phillip Bazely of Congregation Anshe Emeth (Reform) in New Brunswick said he stood in agreement with the community rabbis in support of the resolution. He nodded to Rabbi Yaakov Luban (Ohr Torah, Orthodox, Edison) and Rabbi Eliyahu Kaufman (Ohav Emeth, Orthodox) and others.

There were close to 20 speakers who opposed the resolution, for a variety of stated reasons. While not all objections focused on BDS, anti-Israel and other comments were made with varying degrees of rancor. One speaker questioned why Israel exists and “why the Arabs have to pay for what the Nazis did.” Another said it was a misappropriation of government funds to support the state of Israel.

One commenter felt that the resolution should include racial discrimination for condemnation and address each incidence of bias separately. The resolution’s language including Israel’s self-determination was questioned as the resolution doesn’t include the same rights for the Mohawk, Navajo, Lenapi, Catalan and Kurdish peoples. Many of the speakers against the resolution brought up how their Jewish roots led them to feel support for the oppressed Palestinians and the shameful living conditions for Arabs in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.

As the resolution went to a vote, Councilman Josh Fine said he agreed that the resolution was imperfect, but for many reasons, he was supporting it. Councilwoman Elsie Foster-Dublin said she was conflicted about the resolution; so many Jews were fighting each other on both sides of the resolution. How could she, a non-Jew take a stand on any side? She voted to “table.”

Councilman Phil George began his comments with the fact that Highland Park was deliberately targeted with the “P is for Palestine” reading. He researched all sides of the issue and ultimately compared the resolution discussion to the issue of immigration reform where President Trump was putting politics over the truth. Adding that the resolution makes things worse than before and that people won’t change their positions, he voted “no.”

Councilman Hale voted in support of the resolution after noting that there were many complicated issues involved. He noted that there are a large number of people in town who are extremely frightened of anti-Semitism from the right, left and center of the political spectrum. He shared that when he started working on the resolution he had no idea how complicated it would become, but said that anti-Semitism is growing in the community and has to be stopped. He voted “yes.”

...Councilwoman Susan Welkowitz agreed that a new version agreed upon just that day was an issue, but the council was working to a point of exhaustion to get to the heart of the matter. The mayor had asked for an anti-Semitism resolution and they created one. The addition of BDS to the resolution made things more difficult but it could not be “walked back,” she said. She was concerned that the educational component to promote awareness and fight anti-Semitism was perceived as promoting pro-Israel propaganda. Adding that this was never an issue limiting free speech for those who dislike Israel or align with the Palestinians, she can “smell, taste, and feel” that BDS is anti-Semitism and something needs to be done. Weeding out anti-Semitism, does not mean that people don’t care about Palestinians. She voted “yes.”

Mayor Brill Mittler began her remarks noting how disappointed she was with the process and that Highland Park is a diverse community, and with that comes responsibility. There is freedom of speech, but BDS tactics are anti-Semitic. She said she requested a resolution on the topic seven months ago and brought Rabbi Esther Reed from Rutgers Hillel to the borough’s Human Relations Committee to present evidence of the horrifying rise in anti-Semitic activity in New Jersey, Middlesex County, and specifically Highland Park. Brill Mittler said she found it hard to understand why seven months later the situation is still unresolved, adding that the addition of BDS verbiage “blew everything up.”

After noting her family ties and expressing love for Israel, Brill Mittler said her primary concern was keeping the residents of Highland Park safe. If people felt that the addition of BDS language makes people feel unsafe or targeted, then she cannot support the resolution. The mayor ultimately voted to table the resolution.

When pro-BDS attendees applauded, the mayor admonished them. Saying that she cannot tolerate Highland Park residents being attacked in the streets and the council needs to come back at the next council meeting on November 12 with a new resolution. In the meantime, residents have to feel safe and stop fighting one another.

Exiting the meeting, Michael Gordon noted that this outcome was what the ADL had predicted. “Kicking the can down the road emboldens BDS supporters” and their future activities. Others leaving the meeting noted the fallacy of the signs on Highland Park lawns saying “Hate has no home here.” Someone was overheard grumbling that an asterisk should be added to the signs saying “except for Jews.”

Community activist Josh Pruzansky took to Facebook after the meeting. “Last night we faced an uphill battle with the anti-Semitism resolution in Highland Park and almost won. I don't view it as a loss but rather as a step in the process for our community of being heard and respected. The bottom line is although we lost the vote, and I attribute it to members of the Council being unprepared for this vote; we still accomplished much,” he wrote.

#personal opinion: they shouldn't have included language specifically about BDS

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littlewerewolfsmutoven-blog · 5 years

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Goldilocks and the Three Hales

Explicit | 10,036 words | Werewolves in Heat/Bottom!Stiles | archive of our own

Summary: During a thunderstorm, Stiles' jeep runs out of gas on the empty interstate. Desperate to find somebody to help, he wanders into the woods towards the sight of chimney smoke billowing up from the dense woods. Instead of finding help, Stiles finds Derek, Peter, and Markoff Hale--the last surviving family members of the Hale pack, who just want to have some fun with their new virgin pack pet.

In retrospect, Stiles should have stopped for gas when he last had the chance to do so. He knew that. However, his eagerness to get back to the city had snuffed out rationality on account of exhaustion. Having been on the road for a good thirteen hours, Stiles had wanted nothing more than to get back home and slink into the comfort of his own bed. But of course, the failure to stop and fill up the tank had decided to come back and bite him in the ass—much to Stiles’ aggravation.

The engine to Stiles’ jeep spontaneously cut out, forcing Stiles to pull over into the shoulder lane of the stormy highway that he was travelling along. Once the vehicle completely drew to a finishing clunky halt, Stiles sucked in a heavy breath—slamming his fist down onto the steering wheel with the exhale. He technically only had himself to blame for not stopping to get gas, but it wasn’t fair. He just wanted to get back home. He just wanted to get some sleep. Did the gods above really have to curse him?

Stiles took a moment to collect his temper and took the key out of the jeep’s ignition, leaving the headlights on to illuminate the darkened road ahead. He stepped outside of his jeep into the windy rain of the lonely night, rubbing at his upper arms to help warm himself. He was fucked—so fucking fucked. Stiles kicked at the loose gravel of the shoulder lane and looked down both directions of the empty highway, but nobody was coming. There were no passing cars, no distant aura from city lights, and no road-signs to detail how many miles away Stiles was from his hometown. It was just bare, dark emptiness.

It was already two-thirty in the morning and Stiles knew that he was at least forty miles away from Beacon Hills. He kept looking down both directions of the highway, hoping that he’d be able to flag down somebody for help, but the luck continued to run dry. Stiles fished his phone out of his back pocket, but of course—two bars, then one bar, then no service at all. He couldn’t get out any calls, couldn’t get out any texts, and most definitely couldn’t get himself onto the internet.

Stiles was just about to slide back into his jeep, but saw a stack of chimney smoke billowing up from somewhere inside of the dense woodlands that lined the side of the highway. As the son of Beacon Hills’ sheriff, Stiles knew what an awful idea it was to run into the woods in the middle of the night, during a thunderstorm, with no cellular service, with the hopes of finding people to ask for help. Hell, people didn’t even need to have a family member in law enforcement to know that it was probably a bad idea. Anybody who watched any horror movie ever probably knew better.

But the rain was pouring down in thick sheets, challenging the preexisting leak in the jeep’s old roof. Stiles couldn’t just stick around on the side of the highway for the rest of the night, especially with no cell reception. His father would worry his head off. Stiles needed help. He needed gas to get back on track. And by the smoke in the distance, there was at least one house nearby. A house meant people and people meant help. Unless they were murderers, but Stiles figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

Stiles switched off the headlights of his jeep to conserve the battery life and then shuffled down the muddy embankment off the side of the hallway that leveled into a grassy field. By then, his clothes were already soaked and the rain didn’t appear as though it was going to let up anytime soon. But there wasn’t anything that he could do about it. Stiles trekked through the grassy field, occasionally sliding around on muddy patches, until he made his way into the dense woodlands.

Maybe the strangers in the woods would be sweet and welcoming. Stiles wondered. Maybe the chimney smoke wasn’t coming from a house at all. Maybe it was a hotel or lodge or something with a room to rent for the night. Stiles didn’t have signal, but he had a wallet full of cash. He could pay if need be. And as Stiles made his way through the trees, stepping over branches, dodging slippery slopes, and chasing the smell of fireplace smoke, he fantasized about a warm wooded hotel with fireplaces and room service, warm soup, fresh blankets, and a hot shower waiting for him.

Stiles eventually came to a patchy clearing amongst the surrounding woods with a rickety old house situated in the middle. It looked otherwise abandoned except for the chimney smoke that piped up into the rainy sky. It was an old wooden house, somewhat charred looking. Some of the windows had been shattered, the front porch awning was splintered and half collapsed, and what had probably once been a very nice front lawn was overgrown with dead brush and leafless trees.

The decrepit condition of the house should have been a sign to turn back and just sleep in the leaky jeep, but Stiles tried his best to keep things in a positive light. He was so exhausted and soaked wet with rain, he couldn’t let himself slip down into worrying about things. The fact that nobody seemed to live in the house was irksome—but only because it meant that there was nobody to help and certainly no working phone. But on the positive end of the spectrum, the house looked to have a solid looking roof, which provided shelter from the rain. And of course, the fireplace…Stiles felt his knees tremble with excitement.

Stiles cautiously stepped up onto the front porch and knocked on the door. He waited for a moment, knocked again, and waited some more—but still to no answer. The chimney was still most definitely working, but it didn’t appear as though anybody was actually home. Stiles went to knock for the third time, but a huge gust of wind blew through the area, knocking him slightly off balance, rattling the shoddy awning above, and blowing open the front door.

“Well, if the wind did it.” Stiles thought to himself, poking his head into the darkened house. He was half-scared that some killer would pull him into the house and string his body up onto some rusty hooks, but the reality of the situation was thankfully nothing close to that. He stepped inside, wading around in the dark. There were no lights, but tons of old looking furniture. Most of it was torn and tattered, and some of it looked slightly charred as though there had previously been a house fire.

Stiles crept his way into the house. He tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as he could make them, but couldn’t do much about the squelch of rainwater that squeezed out of his shoes with every step. He called out to the dead air, asking if anybody was home, but received no answers. So he kept walking around, until he made his way into what seemed to be the living room. It was filled with books and had some fluffy old couches with only a moderate amount of rips. But the best part was the flickering fireplace, which had been the cause for the smoke that drew Stiles to the house in the first place.

Eager to get warm, Stiles settled down on the floor directly in front of the fireplace. He kicked off his soaked shoes and took off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves to his flannel. He pulled his knees up to rest against his chest, holding them in place whilst he stared into the fire—letting his body absorb the fire’s warmth and letting his mind do its best to forget about his rainy predicament. Meanwhile, Stiles let his mind run through what he planned to say to the homeowners of the house he had technically broken into…that was, if anybody actually owned the house.

It didn’t take long until Stiles could barely even keep his eyes open. They burned with exhaustion and felt heavy, fluttering closed for long periods of time until a loud gust of wind outside shocked Stiles back to consciousness. Stiles remained in front of the fireplace, but swayed around—unable to keep his balance due to the waning alertness. And then suddenly, Stiles fell over and crashed down onto the floorboards, groaning out with discomfort and shock, finally deciding that it wasn’t safe to fall asleep sitting upright with no support.

Stiles stood up and stretched, curling his toes against the wooden floorboards. He was completely dry, thanks to the fireplace. The uncomfortable hell of having squishy wet socks was no longer an issue. As for his phone, there was still no signal. Although, that didn’t come as a surprise, nor could Stiles really bring himself to care. He was way too tired to worry about being lost in the middle of the woods with no reception. The only thing that Stiles legitimately cared about was the fact that it was almost four o’clock in the morning.

He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Stiles toppled back onto one of the available couches. It was late—and therefore early. Stiles wanted nothing more to drift off into safe slumber, despite the fact that he couldn’t guarantee his safety. Though, the fact that it was nearly four-in-the-morning helped Stiles push himself to the conclusion that the owners of the house were probably non-existent or gone for the weekend. He figured that he could get a couple hours of sleep and just book it back to where his jeep was parked on the highway before getting caught for trespassing.

Stiles was jolted out of his sleep about an hour later to the sound of heavy footsteps creaking along the wooden floor. By the time his eyes fluttered open, he was met with three large figures looming over where he remained curled up on the couch. At first, it was hard to see what the three figures actually looked like, due to the fact that it was still dark outside and the figures were heavily backlit by the roaring fireplace. And for a moment, briefly disillusioned by sleep-blurred vision, Stiles swore he saw the eyes of the three figures glow.

“Well, would you look at that, boys?” The middle figure cooed with an enthusiastic, fatherly tone. “Our little intruder roused out of his slumber.”

“He still looks tired.” The third man with the piercing blue eyes and smarmy demeanor noted. “And he smells like stale rainwater.”

Stiles cautiously fixed his positioning, sitting up from where he had been previously laid out. He pressed his back tightly against the backing of the couch—staring inquisitively at the three strangers, trying his best to see if he could recognize anybody. Maybe his father had tracked his phone location and sent a few deputies into the woods to rescue him. But eventually, it became abundantly clear that Stiles didn’t recognize any of the strangers.

He didn’t necessarily feel scared, nor did he feel threatened. If anything, Stiles felt moderately unnerved by how clean and modelesque the three strangers looked. None of them looked as though they lived in some rundown, fire-damaged house in the middle of the woods. Maybe he just had poor, somewhat insulting preconceived ideas about what woodsy folks looked like. Or maybe he was still dreaming. Maybe his jeep had slid off the road during the thunderstorm and he was actually lying unconscious in some fiery wreck.

But if he was dreaming, was it actually that bad? Stiles couldn’t exactly convince himself otherwise. So as long as the hot strangers didn’t murder him, the whole experience was bordering on a fantasy he used to frequent in high school when he started questioning his sexuality and diving into the wonderful world of pornography. Stiles liked to think that most humbly bisexual men liked to fantasize sometimes about waking up to three hot men hovering over them.

The first stranger, the one to the far left, seemed to be the youngest of the three—probably somewhere in his mid-twenties. And if anything, he seemed to be the one most annoyed about having a complete stranger in his house. He had shadow black hair and dark stubble which really made the man’s jaw and cheekbones pop, as well as it made his perpetual scowl that much more menacing. But luckily for him, the man’s bright green eyes and broad chest seemed to soften his outward ruggedness

The middle man seemed to be the eldest, in his late-forties, with rousing hot-dad vibes radiating off of his muscular physique. Wrinkles stretched at the corners of his blue eyes and on his forehead. He also had black hair, but it was perfectly quaffed, slightly graying at the sides, and a tad bit longer. Stiles noticed that the middle stranger looked significantly less pouty and broody than the first man, but despite that, the middle one definitely commanded the surrounding space with a naturally authoritative presence.

And the last one, the man standing to the right of the other two, was actually close in age to the man in the middle. Age lines settled in particular places on his otherwise unblemished face. He had a colder and more formal demeanor than the others—detailed by the man’s wrinkle-free clothes, well shaped goatee, and combed back hair. His shifty blue eyes and unmoving smirk looked dangerous, but Stiles wasn’t necessarily scared. He was only somewhat wary, because the man stared at him like he was a juicy steak at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“What’s your name, boy?” The middle one questioned, crossing his arms. As his biceps involuntarily flexed, Stiles involuntarily gulped.

“S—Stiles.” Stiles muttered slowly, trading his gaze between each of the three, before settling his glance back to the one who asked the question. “It’s Stiles.”

“What the hell kind of name is that?” The left man sneered, squinting his eyes inquisitively.

The middle man whipped his hand around and slapped the broody one on the back of the head with a barked growl. “Derek—! Don’t insult our guest. I raised you with better manners than that.”

Derek sunk his head down into his shoulders with a growl, obviously embarrassed. He rubbed at his head and took a seat down on the couch beside where Stiles remained. Stiles wanted to laugh, but he tried his best to stop himself. There was just something so hilarious about a big, strong bearded man getting reprimanded by his father for not having good manners.

“Sorry—” Derek grumbled, eyeing up his father.

“Please forgive Derek’s poor manners. My son ought to know better than to insult humans.” The middle man explained, somewhat still disgruntled. “My name is Markoff, but you can call me ‘Mark’. And this—is my younger brother, Peter.” Mark gestured over to the other man with the shifty blue eyes.

Stiles eased into the cushion of the couch. He still didn’t know exactly what these three strangers wanted or why they were being so nice to him, considering the fact that he broken into their house. Although, Stiles had good arguments queued up inside of his head about how the wind was the one who opened the door in the first place and how dangerous it is to leave fireplaces unattended. Nonetheless, Stiles was ready for whatever happened—or, at least that’s what he told himself.

“So—do you guys all live here?” Stiles broke the awkward silence, glancing over to where Derek refused to stop looking at him. “How is it living all the way out here in the woods? Is it all—y’know, woodsy and stuff?”

Peter rolled his eyes, unimpressed with Stiles’ conversational skills. “Tell me, Stiles—what exactly did you hope to accomplish breaking into the house of werewolves?”

“Uh—werewolves?” Stiles chuckled nervously, studying the faces of the three to pick up on social cues, but none of them seemed to be laughing. They seemed dead serious. As if werewolves legitimately existed in the realm of reality. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

Derek thumbed at the corner of Stiles’ lips, dipping into the warmth of the boy’s mouth, but Stiles quickly bat the man’s hand away from his face—blushing slightly at the unexpected touch. Stiles didn’t really know if he was supposed to be upset, or embarrassed, or freaked out, or turned on. After all, Derek, Mark, and Peter were all strangers, and very weird in their own special kind of mysterious beefcake woodsmen way. But Stiles felt heat stir inside of his stomach at Derek’s touch, despite how miniscule it was.

“Derek has a thing for humans, we all do.” Mark commented, shifting his stance. “You have to understand—we rarely cross our paths with humans way out here in the woods. So, when we have one drop into our laps so willingly, we find it hard to maintain our composure.”

“And to have one actually break into our house and soak his scent into our furniture, our floorboards, our territory—” Peter went on.

“—during the Autumn Mating Market.” Derek continued.

“Exactly.” Peter finished.

Stiles scoffed in confusion. “What are you guys talking about? What is the ‘Autumn Mating Market’?”

Peter huffed out, clearly exasperated by the whole situation. Stiles’ limited knowledge when it came to the world of wolves was irksome, at best. He took a seat on the couch to Stiles’ direct right, officially taking up the rest of available room on the piece of furniture. Stiles just sat there in the middle, sandwiched in-between two werewolves, with Mark refusing to budge from where he was standing in front of the human. Stiles was essentially boxed in.

“Are you sure you want this one, Mark? He doesn’t seem to be the most intelligent of humans.” Peter said, clicking his tongue disappointedly.

“Actually—I’m really fucking smart, jerk-off.” Stiles bit back, turning his body towards Peter’s. “It’s not my fault that you three weirdos are talking all vague and cryptic and using terms that I’ve never heard before.”

Peter ground his teeth, debating on how he wanted to proceed with the conversation. He was somewhat irked by the human’s blatant disrespect for werewolves, but couldn’t deny that the human’s boldness was intriguing. Most humans took their subservient place to wolves without bothering to question circumstance. And they very rarely bit back with confident defense. So Peter just crossed his arms and looked over to Mark to lead the way, surprised to find a smirk on Mark’s face.

“He’s got an attitude.” Derek noted, looking towards his father. “I like that, even if you guys don’t. Please, come on—let me have him for just a couple hours. I can have him bent over this couch and mellowed out in twenty minutes flat, I promise.”

Stiles felt heat creep onto his face, reddening his fair skin. He looked over to Derek and then over to Mark, mouth gaping open with surprise at what he had just heard. He briefly questioned the integrity of his own ears, but it was clear that he had heard correctly. Stiles gulped—looking through the three strangers’ facial expressions, shifting around where he sat. None of the three looked as though they were about to bust out with laughter and a reveal that everything was just a big joke. They were serious.

“Stiles, let me explain something to you.” Mark started. “You’ve trespassed on our property during one of the most interesting times of our werewolf cycle—the Autumn Mating Market. It’s an annual production. At the beginning of autumn, werewolves hit their heating period—”.

“—and unfortunately, we all lost our own personal mates years ago in a tragic accident.” Peter interrupted, joining his brother in explanation.

Mark nodded, acknowledging Peter’s further explanation. “As a result, we usually come here together during the mating market to relieve each other of the rather nagging burn of desire that plagues us through the month.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand what that has to do with me?” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his lap, trying as best as he could not to let the three men notice that he was getting hard in his pants. But he lied, because he knew exactly how the whole “mating market” thing could involve him.

“He’s getting hard in his jeans.” Derek announced with a snorted chuckle, letting his eyes flare bright blue.

“Stiles, you don’t have to be ashamed of what you’re feeling.” Mark cooed, reaching forward to trail his fingers down the side of the boy’s freckled face. “It’s perfectly normal.”

Stiles felt extremely hot. His skin flushed damp with hot sweat, slowly but surely soaking into the taut fabric of his t-shirt. All the while, Stiles felt the crotch of his pants grow tighter as his cock thickened. He could feel himself twitch rapidly underneath the coarseness of his pants, and despite the fact that the three werewolves apparently knew how they were affecting his body; Stiles tried his best to hide himself—using his hands to push down harder onto where he was throbbing.

“Rutting with my son and brother is a mediocre way to cool the heat of the annual mating market, but as nature would have it, the season would be so much more tolerable after being able to mate with a willing stranger—” Mark started to pace around with his arms behind his back, noticing the anticipatory energy that started to radiate off of Derek and Peter. “—especially a human with one of the most delicious scents I’ve ever had the pleasure to take in.”

“You’re starting to sweat.” Derek said, grabbing at the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt. “Here—let me help you with this. You’ll feel better.”

Derek stood up from where he was sitting on the couch and walked around to stand in front of the human. He knelt down slightly and hooked his fingers underneath the hem of Stiles’ shirt, tugging it up and over the boy’s head, before setting it down on the floor. And then suddenly, the scent of arousal and intrigue slapped him across the face, pulling a throaty growl out of his body. The human was delectable—a special treat.

Stiles sat there—somewhat frozen in the situation. He kept his hands on his crotch, despite the fact that everybody in the room could see the large bulge that was visibly thumping up into his palms. He had never been shirtless in front of other guys in such a way. In the locker rooms after lacrosse practice? Sure. At the public pool during parties? Definitely. But in the privacy of a stranger’s home, surrounded by strangers, circling him and looking down on him like he was something to eat? Never before. And the feeling that the situation settled deep within Stiles’ gut was something unlike anything he had ever felt before.

For a moment, Stiles’ glance caught Derek’s. Time seemed to slow and the world around them blurred out. And whilst Stiles found himself almost instantaneously lost inside the unnatural glow of blue of Derek’s eyes, Derek slowly leaned inward and pressed his lips against the skin of Stiles’ neck. A whimpered moan unintentionally escaped Stiles’ lips, his body tensed, and his eyes fluttered shut. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I’ve—never.” Stiles moaned, pressing his fingers into the muscle of Derek’s clothed torso.

“Our wonderful toy is a virgin.” Mark announced, delighted—pulling both Derek and Peter’s undivided attention.

“How did you know that?” Stiles caught his breath, rubbing at where Derek’s beard had already started to scratch a beard burn into the skin of his neck. He was slightly offended by the accusation, despite it being true.

“As beta werewolves, my son and younger brother can do all sorts of things, but they can’t smell a virgin from a pack cum-sponge even if they sniffed their noses off.” Mark laughed. “But as an alpha werewolf, I can smell things that would even shock god, herself.”

Stiles nodded slowly, somewhat entranced by Mark’s words. The complexities of werewolves still didn’t make that much sense, and werewolves actually being something more than figments of folklore hadn’t completely seeped into Stiles’ brain as being reality. All Stiles knew was that he liked when Derek touched him. He liked the attention that he was getting from the three strangers. And he liked the faint sense of danger that buried itself deep inside of his gut.

Stiles moved his hands from where they had been poorly attempting to hide his erection from the three, watching closely as they reacted. He spread his thighs open, stretching out his legs, and letting his bulge shift around where it remained locked within the confines of his pants. It was a not-so-subtle way to display his own eagerness to continue with whatever weird mating games the strangers wanted to play. And by the visible desire painted on each of their individual faces, Stiles was clearly doing something right.

Derek knelt down one knee onto the cushion of the couch and cupped his hands underneath Stiles’ jaw, tilting the boy’s head upward before taking the human’s lips in for a kiss. Stiles’ body shivered and broke out in goosebumps, as did Derek’s. Stiles hadn’t been touched ever in his entire history. Meanwhile, Derek hadn’t had the touch of somebody other than his father and uncle in more than five years. It felt like something new to the both of them and it became easy to melt into one another’s heat and taste, growing more fierce and passionate with their kiss as the minutes passed.

Whilst Derek and Stiles moaned into each other’s mouths—kissing, sucking, and playfully tugging at one another’s bottom lips when they pulled back for the occasionally draw of breath, Peter knelt down to the ground at the boy’s spread thighs. He leaned in and took one of the boy’s hardened pink nipples into his mouth. Peter nibbled and sucked enthusiastically at Stiles’ nipples, alternating between which one got to be in his mouth. He also rubbed at them with the pads of his fingertips, making sure that there was always enough stimulation to please the boy.

Mark watched his two betas touch and kiss at the human, pleased from where he remained on the sidelines for the time being. There was something insanely hot about watching the betas passionately tear the human apart. Stiles was red with lustful anguish as he writhed around in the cushion of the couch—unable to fathom of the amount of pleasured strain that was being placed upon his body. But Mark could smell everything. He could smell the boy’s pre-cum leak profusely into the crotch of his boxers. He could smell the boy’s arousal stir around in the air like perfume. And he could smell just a hint of doubt and worry cook around inside of Stiles’ head whilst he wondered as to whether or not he was doing the right thing.

Eventually, Peter shifted his focus away from Stiles’ nipples to where the boy was painfully hard. He unbuttoned Stiles’ jeans and shucked them down Stiles’ hairy thighs, removing them with the tight boxers that Stiles had been wearing underneath. Immediately, Stiles’ cock sprung upwards—throbbing rapidly, unfathomably hot to the touch, and already ready to bust. Peter barely got his lips around the leaking head of Stiles’ cock before the boy came with a shout.

“Oh—my—god.” Stiles grunted, pulling away from where he had been wrestling his tongue against Derek’s, just to watch as his cock spewed thick jets of cum against Peter’s unsuspecting face.

“You virgins and your hair-triggers...” Peter growled, taking Stiles’ sensitive cock into the warmth of his mouth.

Peter laid kisses alongside the throbbing shaft of Stiles’ cock, analyzing the length. Surprisingly, the boy was a hung eight inches hard, cut, with a nice girth, and full balls—filled with the precious seed of a soon to be ruined virgin. Peter lapped up the cum that had drooled down Stiles’ length, humming to the taste. He then hollowed out his cheeks and set a cum-hungry rhythm, immediately taking Stiles’ cock down to the hilt—choking out slightly.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault.” Stiles sucked in a deep breath, feeling Peter’s hot mouth encase itself around his cock. “I’ve just never—this is all something new.”

“Don’t feel embarrassed, Stiles.” Mark defended softly. “My dear brother seems to forget how easy he was to tear apart in the beginning.”

Peter growled in response to his older brother’s snide comment, but refused to retract most of his own attention from pleasuring Stiles. He could feel the boy’s energy spark and vibrate. The taste of eagerness tasted delicious. Peter kept up his solid pace and swallowed down the human with enthusiastic and sloppy gulps. He would occasionally pull his mouth off from where it was wrapped around Stiles, giving the boy a few firm strokes, just to change things up.

But Peter especially loved being able to look up to watch Stiles’ half-lidded golden eyes sparkle with tears of bliss. This was the first time getting his cock sucked, and it brought Peter immense joy to know that he was the one getting his paws on his human. First dibs meant everything when it came down to the annual mating market. It was just something that he would be able to rub into Derek and Mark’s faces for the years to come.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Derek asked, tugging away from Stiles’ lips. “Peter’s really good with his mouth. Don’t listen to him when he chalks up his skill to natural talent. He’s a goddamn liar. He practices with closeted frat boys from the local university.”

“There’s nothing wrong with some practice, nephew.” Peter smacked his lips, lapping up the pre-cum that had slicked his mouth. “Perhaps I’ll let you show the human what your mouth can do.”

Derek was barely able to hide his excitement, quickly switching places with his uncle. He knelt down to his knees—slotting himself in-between Stiles’ open thighs. He sized up the boy’s cock, leaning forward to start with tentative swipes with the heat of his tongue. The taste of his uncle and the taste of the human’s pre-cum immediately assaulted Derek’s senses, making his own cock begin to leak into where he was hard in the tightness of his pants.

Whilst not as calculated and trained with sucking cock as Peter was, Derek had his own techniques. He took Stiles’ girth into the warmth of his firm grasp, stroking it for an extended period of time, whilst only wrapping his lips around the fat head of his Stiles’ dick. He swirled his tongue around Stiles’, whipping the tip of his tongue into the leaking slit of the boy’s cock. Stiles tasted amazing. It was no wonder as to why Peter had been so immersed within the experience.

Stiles carded his hands through Derek’s hair, unable to take his eyes away from where his cock stretched the werewolf’s mouth open. It amazed Stiles to see that even whilst getting a cock stuffed down his throat, Derek sported the angriest looking face—thick eyebrows furrowed. But it was clear that Derek wasn’t angry. All of the sounds that he made—the whimpers, the gasps, the groans—they were sounds of pleasure, contentment, and satisfaction. That was just how Derek’s face looked and damn, Stiles couldn’t deny how attracted he was to Derek’s perpetual look of broodiness.

Mark rounded the couch, kneeling down next to where Derek was knelt down. He analyzed his boy’s work, making sure that Derek was doing his best and not slacking on the job. “That’s good, Derek. Can you feel Stiles’ body react to the pleasure you’re giving him? Can you taste that arousal?”

Derek mumbled in confirmation, continuing to abuse the head of Stiles’ cock with his tongue. But all at once, he felt the calloused guidance of his father’s hand squeeze gently on the back of his neck—slowly, but surely pushing him down. It forced Derek to take more of Stiles’ length down his throat. The human stretched his throat nicely. The burn was noticeable immediately, but not unbearable. If anything, it enticed Derek to add more movement to his performance, which was much to Stiles’ enjoyment.

“Oh fuck, Derek.” Stiles moaned. “Keep doing that—like that. Don’t stop, please.”

“Take him in all the way, Derek—” Mark instructed brightly, shoving the back of Derek’s head slightly more. “—to the root, son.”

Derek choked the moment he felt Stiles’ cock hit the back of his throat, eyes burning with tears. He wanted to pull back to draw in a clean breath, but also wanted to stay down to continue blowing Stiles. His father, however, didn’t really give him a choice in the matter. Mark kept his hands firmly placed on the back of Derek’s head, holding him in position—keeping Derek’s throat occupied. The only things that Derek could really do was cough out, slurp, and prepare himself for what he could feel Stiles’ body tighten up to do.

Stiles came for the second time, hands flailing out to grab into the couch cushions. His hips reacted involuntarily, thrusting upward into the cavernous heat of Derek’s mouth. Derek seemed perfectly content with the surge of new cum flooding into his mouth, because the only sounds that came from his body were throaty growls. Stiles felt Derek’s throat work around him, swallowing down everything, until his cock was only pumping out finishing drops of cum.

When Mark finally released his hold on Derek’s head, Derek popped up—clearing his throat. He smacked his lips, licking at them, and then looked up amorously into the boy’s golden eyes which were wet with tears just like his own. Derek sniffled with a slight chuckle on this tongue, rubbing away the ache that had settled into his jaw. He looked up to where his father stood beside him, as it waiting to receive a reward or punishment from a teacher.

“Sorry, Peter—” Stiles breathed out with a smirk tugging on his lips. “—your nephew’s got you beat.”

Peter scoffed with a half-baked laugh, leaning forward into Stiles’ face—listening to the immediate uptick in the boy’s heartbeat. “That pretty little mouth of yours sure does know how to push my buttons. How about we see what I can do about fixing that, human.”

Derek and Peter simultaneously gripped their hands onto each of Stiles’ shoulders, yanking him up from where he had been resting on the couch. Stiles yelped at the quick movement. He was somewhat unsure as to where the situation was heading, though he felt as though he had a pretty good idea in his head. The werewolf nephew and uncle duo spun Stiles around and knelt him down on the floorboards in front of the couch, and then took their own seats—side-by-side—where Stiles had once been.

“Now, be the good pack bitch that I know you can be and take our cocks out.” Peter instructed, palming at where the crotch of his jeans were raised obscenely with a bulge.

“They were both so nice for you. It’s time to put what you’ve learned to good use.” Mark planted his hands down on either of Stiles’ shoulders, firmly squeezing at them as if he were some kind of encouragement booster. He rubbed confidence into the boy, pushing out any concern or tension that he may have had. “It’s only fair, Stiles.”

Derek reached out and cradled the back of Stiles’ head, pulling the boy down to where his cock was still locked up underneath his jeans. Stiles took the initiative and began to slowly mouth at where Derek’s bulge was the most prominent through the fabric. Stiles drooled and dragged the pad of his tongue along the rigid material of the heavy denim—chasing the smell of musk. Stiles was also able to feel the heat of Derek’s cock radiating outward. It was so powerful and so comforting that Stiles lost hold of some minutes, entranced with mouthing at Derek’s bulge until there was a visible wet spot from saliva there.

“Take it out.” Derek said softly, combing his fingers gently through Stiles’ messy hair.

Stiles complied, fiddling anxiously with the top button and zipper of Derek’s jeans. Nerves fluttered around inside of his stomach. He was nervous, but also excited. He had technically already had his mouth of Derek’s bulge, and fuck—it was huge. Stiles didn’t know what he was going to do when he finally had the man’s cock plunged down his throat. But when he finally undid Derek’s pants and pulled them down the man’s hairy thighs, Stiles lost his timid composure.

Just as soon as Derek’s freed cock sprung up—nine inches long, thick as a can of beer, and leaking profusely with anticipatory pre-cum—Stiles found himself wrapping his lips around Derek’s cockhead. Stiles didn’t really know what washed over him—the surge of confidence seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. He was there, knelt down on the hard floors, feverishly sucking at a stranger’s cock. No questions about condoms. No hesitation. It just happened.

Stiles felt a darkened, untapped corner of his brain snap. All went black. Electricity crackled inside the liquid gold of his hazel eyes. Suddenly, all Stiles wanted was cock. He wanted it in and around him. He wanted load after load down his throat, on his skin, dripping out of his ass. He wanted to be used in the worst of ways by the three strangers and whoever else wanted a turn with him. This was what he wanted from now on. This was how he wanted to spend his time—his life. He wanted to burn away his years under the thrusts and dominance of men, of cock, of sex, and of cum. Everything else that mattered in his life just seemed to flutter away like a rather unmemorable dream.

Derek watched as more and more of his length slipped past the boy’s plump lips and into his salivating mouth. Stiles just took it all without thinking—like some starved kid at a buffet. Derek could barely believe what was happening. Just a few moments prior, Stiles was timid and uncertain as to what to do and how to handle other people touching him. But then without warning, it was easy to see that Stiles’ morals had taken a backseat. Derek could see the fire inside of Stiles’ otherwise glassy, blank eyes. It was clear that Stiles’ mind had been warped and overpowered by lust, dulling anything else that the poor boy could ever hope to think about.

“Oh, he’s fucking done this before...fucking lying cumslut.” Peter growled, pulling Stiles away from Derek and into his own lap. “Get my cock out and suck me off since you’re so good at it.”

“God, yes.” Stiles mumbled, hurriedly undoing Peter’s pants. And unsurprisingly, the uncle and nephew duo followed similar personal preferences when it came down to whether or not they wore underwear.

Stiles reached into the opened crotch of Peter’s jeans, instantaneously wrapping his grasp around where he could feel the older man’s heat pulse against his palm. He took Peter out of his jeans, grinning ear-to-ear upon seeing that Peter was just as massive and just as thick as Derek. The only noticeable differences between the two boiled down to presentation, because Peter was a lot more trimmed up when it came to body hair. But Stiles hadn’t found issue with Derek’s untamed curls, on account of the masculine scent of musk and sweat.

Without further instruction or demand, Stiles opened his mouth as wide as he could manage to accommodate Peter’s thickness, much like what he had done with Derek. Stiles slicked up the shaft with his tongue, giving the man a few firm strokes with his hands, before fully taking Peter into the warmth of his throat. Stiles worked quick and unapologetically messy, slurping up any of Peter’s potent pre-cum that leaked out from his overstretched lips. And with one of his free hands, fondled Peter’s heavy balls—applying a generous amount of comfortable pressure, which made Peter writhe around in the seat of the couch.

“I think your big bad alpha nose is broken, Mark.” Peter breathed heavily, fighting with himself to finish speaking his thoughts instead of losing them to Stiles’ wicked tongue. “You smelled a virgin, but there’s no way this human hasn’t done this before.”

“What do you think is burning in the fireplace, Peter?” Mark questioned boldly.

All three of the werewolves looked over towards where the fireplace had refused to dim. And whilst Mark looked towards its flames with a smile on his face, Derek and Peter were unequivocally confused as to what their alpha was talking about. It looked like a completely normal fire, flickering away brightly inside of the charred brickwork. Visibly, there was nothing off about it. And as far as scents went, it smelled like simple wood—termite touched, with some notes of char and old ash.

Peter cried out, throwing his head back in pleasure, clasping his hands at the sides of Stiles’ head. Meanwhile, Derek rolled his eyes at the dramatic moan, still looking towards his father for an explanation about the fire. There didn’t seem to be anything immediately different about any of the other fires that had been burned there before. And if his father was testing him on something that werewolves were supposed to know, Derek was about to fail.

“It just looks—normal.” Derek explained with a shrug.

Mark snapped his fingers and Stiles pulled away from Peter’s cock, shifting back over to take Derek into his mouth. It was smooth. Stiles moved robotically, fluidly, like he knew exactly what everybody was thinking and what everybody wanted from him. He moved like he had practiced for this scenario throughout his entire life, graduating with honors from cocksucking academy. But the snap of Mark’s fingers was a hint, obviously. Derek just still couldn’t figure it out.

Mark closed his eyes with a defeated sigh. “It’s Priapus Gingersnap.”

“That’s one of the rarest materials to come by. How on God’s Earth did you find such an abundant supply of it? And enough to draw in a human virgin? Did you sell your lycan soul for this?” Peter snickered, peering over to the fireplace.

“It’s off brand. I crafted it for a particularly lonely mating market. Rabbit bones, alligator tongues, and the hair plucked from a trusted and noble authority figure.” Mark snorted, unbuckling his own belt.

“Fuck—you had to find a pure authority figure.” Derek commented, still relishing in Stiles’ mouth. “There are no pure authority figures in this world, dad. All of them are power-hungry barbarians.”

“This one—” Mark gestured down towards where Stiles remained on his knees, swallowing down Derek’s cock with ravenous enthusiasm. “—is the son a nearby city’s sheriff. I plucked some hair off the old man and who would have known his own virgin son would come through our woods, drawn to our fire.”

Derek’s muscles tensed, involuntarily thrusting up into Stiles’ mouth, shooting his load. Despite the abruptness, Stiles didn’t miss a beat. He swallowed down the thick surges of cum that Derek supplied as they pulsated out, letting his throat gulp down everything. He cleaned Derek’s cock until it was shiny and free of cum, then pulled away with a satisfied hum and smack of his lips—freezing in place where he remained on his knees.

Stiles froze with a blank expression locked onto his sweaty, flushed out face. His eyes still sparkled brightly with gold, but there was otherwise no thought left inside the boy’s head for the time being. Derek found it confusing at first, but then realized what he had read up on Priapus Gingersnap before during his high school days, and it became clear that Stiles wasn’t frozen, he was just waiting—placed on pause, awaiting the next order or desire like some kind of computerized sex toy.

“I think I’d like to see our cockslut’s dripping hole.” Peter suggested wickedly, watching as Stiles immediately stood up from where he had been.

Stiles walked over to an arm-chair that was situated in the corner of the living room, next to the mantle of the fireplace. Peter and the two other werewolves watched as Stiles hopped into the chair with a plump bounce and then hooked each of his legs onto each of the chair’s arms—forcing his thighs to be obscenely spread. Stiles slouched down slightly, letting his puckered entrance come into fire’s light, showing off for the three horny werewolves that drooled all over themselves with delight.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Mark asked, tugging out his cock through the unzipped crotch of his jeans. He stroked himself as the three wolves drew closer to where Stiles was spread out on the chair.

“But—how? I know a little bit about this gingersnap. It can’t draw in unwilling participants.” Derek noted, slightly befuddled.

“You’re exactly right, son.”

“So, he—”

“—was just a cock-warmer waiting for an opportunity to jump at.” Mark cooed, trailing his fingers down one of Stiles’ legs. “And how generous are we for giving this to our human pet?”

Peter laughed. “Very.”

“Now, Stiles—” Mark started, turning his attention back to where the human was blanking staring at him. “—what do we say when we want something?”

“Please—” Stiles’ throat tightened as he gulped. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me.”

“Atta boy.”

Mark slotted himself in-between Stiles’ legs, pressing the head of his leaking cock into where Stiles was flushed hot and puckered up, untouched and twitching with an eagerness to be filled with another’s man’s girth and heat. As he eased himself into the human’s overwhelming heat, Stiles panted out like a dog—huffing out and drooling all over his own bare chest, unable to fathom the feeling of finally being stretched open by something other than his own fingers.

As the alpha werewolf, Mark had control. Derek and Peter knew as much, so they both waited around on the sidelines with their own cocks still raging hard and desperate to get inside of Stiles’ slutty heat. Mark, however, didn’t waste his time. The speed and severity of his thrusts was unlike anything another human would ever be able to replicate. If Stiles were to set back on his merry way—to live a normal life back in Beacon Hills, to get married, to raise a family, to work tirelessly at some cookie-cutter career—it was certain that Stiles would exhaust himself and waste away trying to find somebody to fill him as well as Mark and his betas did.

Stiles’ body was savagely thrashed around underneath Mark’s dominating thrusts. Mark was rough, but passionate. He cooed filthy nothings into the boy’s ear whilst he kept up his rhythm, willing the boy to moan out desperate pleas of “daddy, fuck me harder”, “make me your bitch”, “fuck me full”, “don’t stop”. Most of the pleas were of Stiles’ own internal soundboard, but Mark hit the switches—repeatedly, over and over again, until the words were breathless and hoarse. The only thing Mark truly pushed harder for was Stiles’ frequent and babbled use of the word ‘daddy’ which dripped off of Stiles’ lips and waged unearthly fire through Mark’s veins.

“I feel so full.” Stiles sighed contently, rubbing at where his stomach rhythmically bulged out with Mark’s insertion.

“Give our pet something to chew on.” Mark said, combing his own sweaty hair out from where it had fallen into his eyes due to the wildness of his thrusts.

Derek and Peter positioned themselves on either side of the arm chair where Stiles was spread open underneath Mark’s vicious hammering. With Stiles slouched down, he was at the perfect angle to handle a couple cocks in his hands and in his mouth. And with a snap of Mark’s instructive fingers, Stiles immediately jolted alive with newfound energy, switching over into some kind of preprogrammed motion. He took Derek and Peter into each of his empty hands, applying firm pressure and fluid stroked movements.

For a while, the two betas happily took advantage of Stiles’ warm, receptive grasp. They started to leisurely thrust their cocks into Stiles’ hands, howling up towards the splintered wood ceiling of the living room. Meanwhile, Stiles happily jerked both of them off, grinning like some doped-out slut—switching his gaze back and forth between where Derek and Peter stood on opposite sides of him. He ran the pad of his thumbs across the leaking slits of their fat cockheads, tingling with anticipation as to when he’d get to have them in his mouth.

“So big—so hot.” Stiles chirped with a bright smile and wide eyes.

“Go ahead, son. Let them fuck that beautiful mouth of yours.” Mark murmured softly, grinding deep into Stiles’ overworked heat.

Stiles let his head fall back against the backing of the arm chair, letting his mouth fall slack-jawed. Derek was the first one to make the move and take the human. He clasped his hands at the sides of Stiles’ head and pulled the boy closer, shoving his meaty cock right into where Stiles was open and drooling with hunger at the simple thought of a cock slipping down his throat. And as soon as the weight of Derek’s cock hit Stiles’ tongue, the boy came for the third time.

Mark chuckled to himself, punching a series of particularly harder thrusts into the human’s lithe frame, working the boy through his orgasm. Stiles’ body convulsed hard, but even as his body writhed and flailed, he never let Derek’s cock slip out from between his abused lips. He kept sucking, unable to stop himself from swallowing around Derek’s girth, even as he felt his own body shake uncontrollably and his own thick rod blast another one of his loads onto his lean stomach.

When Stiles�� orgasm died down, Mark slipped himself out of the boy’s hole—still hard, still loaded, but determined to give Stiles a reward for taking an alpha’s cock so well, thus far. He knelt down in-between where Stiles’ legs were still spread open and hooked on the chair’s arms He pressed his mouth against where he had just removed his cock, slipping his tongue inside of Stiles’ gushing warmth—alongside a few of his own trigger-happy fingers.

With Derek and Peter frivolously trading Stiles’ mouth back and forth between the two of themselves, Mark worked his fingers and tongue into Stiles’ hole. He plunged his digits inwards, hooking them slightly, and circling around until Stiles screamed out around whichever beta was lodged down his throat. But the moment Mark got his fingers on the right stop, he refused to let up. He continued to circle his fingers around, pressing deeply, with precision and intent—repeatedly, drinking in all of the screams that Stiles let out.

Stiles’ body reacted in such beautiful ways to Mark’s fingers. His muscles tightened and released. His breath quickened, drawing in loud breaths whenever Derek or Peter traded him to the other. Mark was so precise and so brutal, keeping the point of his fingers directly plunged against Stiles’ prostate—rubbing in that spot over and over and over again that Stiles’ body seemed as though it started to malfunction. One of the boy’s eyes began to twitch, some of his toes twitched, a pink blush spread across his sweaty chest, and his cock started to pulsate as though he was shooting a load—but he wasn’t.

A dry orgasm ripped Stiles’ body apart without remorse—causing him to momentarily break out from under the effects of the Priapus Gingersnap. His stopped sucking where his mouth was wrapped around Peter’s girth, letting the werewolf slip out of his mouth with a gush of saliva and pre-cum, down to splat against his chin and chest. Stiles screamed out towards the ceiling, immediately falling into a hysterical display of crying and laughing, seemingly unable for his brain to correctly identify the kind of pleasure that rocked through his body. All the while, Stiles’ hard cock pulsed violently, completely untouched, producing no spray of cum. His balls hadn’t had enough time to produce anything, but his body pushed him through the motions.

Mark pulled his fingers from where they had been pressed against Stiles’ prostate, letting the boy float down from his orgasm. He slapped and rubbed at the boy’s hole with his fingers in a repetitive and soothing motion. And eventually, once the boy’s mixture of delirious laughs and cries dulled down into complete silence, Mark watched the fireplace’s charm take the boy back into its competent grasp. He watched Stiles catch his breath and lick his lips, readying himself for further instruction.

“Derek, I think we’re overdue for some father-son bonding time, don’t you think?” Mark asked, winking over to where Derek was standing with his wet dick in his hand. “Do you remember that one time we took that closeted, blond, jock-type lacrosse player out behind the dumpsters of that gaybar in the city?”

“Yeah—he came out to his parents the next day.” Derek laughed. “He said something about not being able to keep hiding how much he wanted cock stuffed up his ass anymore. What was his name again? Johnny? Jeremiah? Jacks—?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mark interrupted. “But let’s give Stiles what we gave that jock.”

Mark stood up from where he was knelt down at Stiles’ hole and laid back atop the solid wood coffee table that was placed in the middle of the couch and the fireplace. His cock was still jut out from his open pants—speared up towards the roof of the room. He snapped his fingers again and watched as life revitalized Stiles’ exhausted body. The boy stood up from the arm-chair and straddled over Mark and where he was laid out on the coffee table—hovering his hole directly above Mark’s cock.

“I don’t think one cock did the job, did it, Stiles?” Mark asked, reaching up to pinch at Stiles’ spit-slicked nipples.

“Daddy, please.” Stiles groaned, reaching back with his hands to spread open his ass checks. He let his clenched hole rub over Mark’s throbbing cockhead. “I need more than one. I need two. Please, I need you and Derek inside me—fuck me at the same time.”

Mark gripped his hands at both sides of Stiles’ hips and slowly eased the boy down onto his cock. He leaned the boy forward, so that Stiles was laid flat against Mark’s chest—face nuzzled up to Mark’s stubbled jaw. It allowed for Derek to take his positioning, crouching down behind Stiles and slowly pushing inside the boy. Mark held his composure, despite nearly losing himself to the warm tightness of Stiles’ ass. But just as soon as he felt his son’s huge cock nudge against his own—confirming that they were both deep inside of the human, all bets were off.

Derek and Mark fucked their cocks inside of Stiles’ hole, adjusting their rhythm enough so that one of them fucked inward whilst the other pulled out. It provided a delicious kind of friction that not only set Derek and Mark’s bodies on fire, but Stiles’ as well. As the three of them rocked into one another, Peter walked around and played his own part—shoving his cock into Stiles’ empty mouth, just to make sure that there wasn’t one hole of the boy that felt left out. They all worked together in tandem, fast and hard—setting an unforgivable pace that shook the human’s bones.

Stiles remained sandwiched between the two Hales, never once letting Peter drop out of his mouth. His mind fluttered around with feelings of bliss and fear of one day not being able to enjoy such an overload of stimulation. But he hung on, letting the three wolves take his body and do with it what they pleased. Much to Stiles’ pleasure, every touch, every whispered word, every spurt of hot cum, every kiss, and every taste of cock that pressed itself onto Stiles’ tongue, filled Stiles’ body with the upmost feeling of love and satisfaction.

“Oh fuck, dad—” Derek breathed, his thrusts stuttered rapidly. “—I’m gonna, jesus, dad. I’m gonna—”

“Me too, son.” Mark groaned.

And at once, Derek and Mark shoved everything that they had to give into Stiles’ body—feeling their balls draw up tight and their thick cocks throb rapidly where they were bound together within the heat of a human. Shortly thereafter, Peter felt his own orgasm approach. He pulled out from Stiles’ mouth and jerked himself off roughly, stroking his cock whilst he stared down into the tearfully wet eyes of the newest Hale pack pet. His cock spewed hotly and heavily, jetting out ropes of white cum in rhythmic bursts—painting over the boy’s debauched face, coating his upturned nose, his delicate freckles, his precious lips, and the heavy lashes that fluttered down closed to hide the boy’s golden eyes.

Stiles remained seated atop Mark’s body, speared open by two huge werewolf cocks. A flood of Hale family cum ravished his inner walls, burning white hot into where he was bright pink, overworked, and stretched out. But all that Stiles could do was mindlessly hump his hardened cock against where it was pressed flat against Mark’s body, bringing himself to a feeble orgasm—spurting out tiny drops of white cum into the fabric of Mark’s sweaty shirt. It was all the cum that Stiles’ body was able to produce, having been so thoroughly used.

“Oh, Stiles—our dear, new pack pet.” Mark whispered, soothingly rubbing his hands down Stiles’ bare back, kissing softly against the cum-speckled skin of the boy’s face. “Whatever are you going to do now?”

Stiles mumbled groggily, slipping quickly into a safe passage of sleep—coddled and squeezed between a loving father and son. “I’mmugh, stay—ing.”

Helicopters and search teams swept through cities. It didn’t matter, though. They could search for as long and as hard as they pleased. Their efforts would prove nothing but unsuccessful in regards to locating the missing Stilinski boy. Sure, missing persons fliers decorated the boy’s hometown of Beacon Hills—but they didn’t turn up anything. All of the hotline tips that were called in to be collected lead nowhere helpful. The only thing that had been found was the boy’s leaky blue jeep, parked haphazardly on the side of a rather vacant, washed out highway.

The boy’s father, the pure and noble authority figure of the Beacon Hills Police Department, tried his best to find his missing son, but poor ol’ Jonathan Stilinski came up short every time. For months and months, John led the charge for searches—exhausting his efforts and power as the sheriff to facilitate thorough combs through surrounding wooded areas, lakes, and grassy patches. But nothing—just like all the other attempts, all roads seemed to lead to nothing.

Although, there had been one particular search that had lasted late into the early morning hours, after search and rescue volunteers had retired back to their homes to escape a coming thunderstorm, John continued to trek through a dense line of woods, avoiding muddy patches, tripping over thick branches, and nearly slipping down slippery slopes. Exhausted and delirious with sleep deprivation, for just a moment, John could have sworn he had heard his son calling out to him—“Daddy, daddy, oh god, please!”

But John waved it away as being a figment of his month’s long exhaustive search without much sleep, heading off to search in another direction…Unfortunately, never finding his way to the broken old house with the billowing chimney smoke, where his son cried out—not in agony, not in fear, not in pain, but in orgasmic, heart-stopping pleasure.

#sterek #steter #stiles/papa hale

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