Sofia Allisen wasn't supposed to be at the party in the big house at the end of her street. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be at any parties at all, given all the horror stories floating around. Stories about drugs, about premarital sex, about Alphas who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Sofia was doubly not supposed to be at that particular party because she was right on the cusp of her heat, at that particularly vulnerable moment where she could tumble, quite easily, into that even more vulnerable time of the month from just being too close to an Alpha and their pheromones.
The thing about Sofia, though, is that she had spent just about enough time under the overly watchful eye of her parents. She was their only child, and small even by omega standards, and had spent her first seventeen years of life kept on a short leash. That night, two days before her eighteenth birthday, she'd had enough. The smallness that had always been seen as a weakness allowed her to climb out her window and shimmy down a nearby trellis. Dressed to impress in clothes her parents didn't know she owned, she made her way into a group of teenagers that she mostly knew from high school. There were a few surprised faces when she pushed her way into the noise of the party, but most people were happy to see her. She was a pretty little thing, with what her best friend called Disney Princess hair, a shimmery silvery-gold curtain that reached her hips, and elfin features. It wasn't a surprise that people noticed her.
It was really no surprise that the Alpha from her English class noticed her.
Arika Wolfe was everything that Sofia Allisen was not. She was tall, curvy, and dark. Her hair was short enough to spike into a mohawk but long enough to flop into her eyes in a very endearingly mysterious way if she left it down. She wore bomber jackets and tight jeans, and she lived on her own. She looked like the kind of person you wouldn't want to cross in a dark alley, with flashing eyes and a sarcastic smirk. And to Sofia, who had to stand close to her so she could fish a Diet Coke from a massive bowl of ice, she had a scent like dark chocolate and toasted marshmallows and Christmas trees. And for some reason, the scent of her had made Sofia dizzy. She'd dropped her soda, which had, of course, exploded over both of them. When Arika had snagged the elbow of Sofia's sweater and suggested they go upstairs to clean up, Sofia had blinked dazedly up at her and nodded dumbly. Thinking back on it, almost thirty years later, she still claims that she doesn't remember much of anything aside from Arika's scent, and the feel of her hand through the fabric of her sweater.
Sofia later found out that the large house was Arika's, left to her after her parents had passed away in a plane crash a year ago. So when Sofia's heat came, right then and there, it was easy for the two of them to tuck into Arika's bedroom. The party went on, then died down in the rooms below them. Arika's 'crew', as she called them, hustled people out sometime near dawn, and left the remnants of party snacks and an assortment of juices used as mixers outside the bedroom door before leaving the women alone.
By the time her heat was finished, Sofia was eighteen and had a bite mark on her neck. When she'd taken Arika back to her parents' house, the police officers that had been called about the missing child were at first unimpressed, and then almost amused at the situation. They'd lingered just long enough to explain to Sofia's parents that she was not a missing child, as she was now eighteen, and when their daughter said she was moving out to be with her mate, there was nothing anyone could do about it. They'd given the young woman as stern a lecture as they could manage, with a sparkle of mirth in their eyes, before leaving. When Sofia's parents tried to protest, tried to tell their daughter that she didn't know what she was doing, that she was just a child, Arika had stood in front of her new mate, an unamused eyebrow arched in silent challenge. And when Sofia had scurried up to her childhood bedroom to pack the things she wanted to bring home with her, Arika stood at the bottom of the stairs to prevent her mother Leonard from following her up. Leaving the little yellow house that afternoon was not the last time Sofia saw her parents, but it was the last time she saw them for six years.
Neither Sofia nor Arika were surprised when Sofia's heat didn't return the next month. They had been blind with want for each other, and neither had spared even a second to think about contraception. Sofia, who had not planned on becoming a mother quite so soon, could feel nothing but contentment and excitement. The way Ari lay beside her in bed, one hand resting on her still-flat stomach, and cooed sweetly to her unborn pup, made it impossible to be anything but happy.
Jakob Eric Wolfe was born at 7:12 PM, September 15th. He came two weeks early, which made Ari - who was usually very level-headed and calm - go into a tizzy of panic so acute that Sofia had to threaten to slap her. When she raised one tiny hand, the other resting on her round belly, Arika had raised that same unamused eyebrow, but she did slow down enough to get her wife to the hospital. Jakob was a spitfire immediately, hearty enough that the two weeks of prematurity barely showed on him. He had a shock of dark hair so like Arika's that made all the nurses on the floor joke about how he definitely wasn't the milkman's son. He was a remarkably calm baby, and only squawked when he was hungry or needed a new diaper. The rest of the time he was content to nap or gaze, unfocused, around the room. He didn't sleep in the nursery with the other newborns, simply because Arika and Sofia didn't want him so far away. So even though the nurses all warned them that they should take the chance to rest while they could, they refused and instead kept his little bassinet near Sofia's bed, where they could both watch him sleep and make sure he was alright.
Growing up, Jakob was an adventurous little boy. He treated their backyard as a vast jungle and spent his time catching bugs and making mud pies, just like most little boys did. He was a terribly normal child, save for just one thing. One thing that made Ari laugh, which in turn made Sofia tut at her mate. Jakob hated getting his clothes dirty. If he dropped food on his shirt or got mud on a pair of shorts that weren't designated as 'outside clothes' that were allowed to get dirty, then he would throw a fuss. It was virtually the only time the little boy would pitch fits, but oh the intensity of those fits! Especially if he was told that they couldn't stop what they were doing to change his clothes. If they were out, for instance, and he dripped ice cream on his shirt in the car. If his parents told him that they didn't have another shirt for him, and he'd have to live with the chocolate stain until they got home, he would cry and beg Sofia and Arika to give him new clothes. Sofia called him sensitive. Ari called him ridiculous.
While Jakob did quickly grow out of the fit-throwing stage, he never grew out of the need to have his clothes looking neat. As he grew, and his parents gave him more freedom with his clothes, he was careful about picking things that he thought looked good together. While a lot of kids his age would focus on graphic t-shirts and not care of the pants matched, Jake took colours and textures into consideration. When he was thirteen, his school hosted a formal dance for the first time, and he spent more time talking about how excited he was to wear a suit than he talked about his date to the dance. Sofia called him a fashionista. Ari ruffled his hair and called him ridiculous.
In high school, there were only three male students in Jakob's year to take sewing classes. One Alpha, who had thought it would be a good way to meet omegas, one sweet boy who came from a very poor family, who wanted to learn how to sew so his parents wouldn't have to spend so much money on clothes for him and his four siblings, and Jake. At first, the teacher gave him as much attention as she gave the Alpha boy, who spent more time fooling around and showing off than he did working. But after Jakob's first few projects were turned in, she began paying more attention to him. His lines were straight, his folds precise, and his attention to detail was impeccable. The little freshman, who giggled with his tablemates about normal teenager things, soon became the star pupil of the textiles program. Kids in his silkscreening class asked him for his t-shirts, and he founded a fashion club when he was sixteen. Sofia called him brilliant. Ari called him awesome, but ridiculous.
In Jakob's senior year, he was presented an award for his impressive portfolio, and it was revealed that he was going to be receiving a scholarship to the Otis College of Art and Design. On his graduation day, when he jokingly complained about how a design student should not be seen wearing an ugly polyester robe, Sofia called him silly. Ari was crying, and couldn't say anything.
College was intense, but the most rewarding thing that Jakob ever did. While he'd learned the basics in high school, a lot of the things he did with his designs he'd kind of taught himself. Now he was learning things that he'd never hoped to learn in his yearly textiles class. Things about garment structure, how to drape fabric so that it would flow instead of drag on the ground, and why using a half loop stitch on Habotai silk would make the delicate fabric pucker. He spent long hours in stuffy design rooms, dealt with student models who thought they knew better than he did, and drove himself crazy at three in the morning when his sewing machine jammed more than once. It was a hellish four years, and he contemplated quitting more than once. He didn't, of course, because he knew that his father would kick his ass, and she would do so with a smile on her face. But also because it was important. This was his life. His future career, if he was lucky. He couldn't just give up on it because it was hard. Nobody ever got anywhere giving up halfway through. So he pressed on, and he made it through those four hellish years. When he graduated this time, Sofia was the one who couldn't speak through her tears. Arika, who looked as if she might actually burst with pride, called him Head Fashion Bitch In Charge. Jakob laughed until he couldn't breathe.
Having a degree in design didn't automatically make Jakob a designer. What it did was make him incredibly knowledgable about clothes. It gave him a leg up when it came to applying for jobs in higher-end boutiques. He knew he wanted to work in fashion, and he knew that he would be miserable if he had to put that dream aside just to make a living. So when he became aware of a job at JB Clothiers, a boutique that also featured in-house alterations and repairs, he jumped on it. It was the first job that he was actually excited to have, knowing that not only could he work with clothes, he might also have the chance to actually put his sewing skills to work. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing.
He climbed the ladder at the store pretty quickly, and within a year and a half he was named head of alterations and design. He got to sew almost every day, and he was thrilled. On the side, he kept working on his own designs. It wasn't as if he had his own line, but he sold a design or two to his friends. Even a few pieces on Etsy. It was slow going, but Jakob was thrilled to do it. Every stitch in fabric he made, he considered a success.
When he was twenty-three, Jakob met Poppy. She was an Alpha who worked in the shop next to JBC. She was wild and funny, and reminded Jake of his father. She asked him out, but the way she worded it made it sound more like an order than a request. A bit stunned, but also a bit lonely, Jakob accepted anyway. It proved to be a mistake when he was thrown into a relationship that very quickly turned turbulent. She fit into every 'bad Alpha' stereotype you could think of. She was commanding and rough, and tried to tell Jakob who he could and couldn't see. She complained about his housemates, two betas that he'd gone to high school with. She tried to get Jakob to move in with her, and when he said that he didn't want to lose out on the money he'd already put into rent, she'd pushed him against the door and told him that he belonged to her, and not to argue with her. Jakob, who had never had a real partner before, assumed that this was a typical dynamic for Alphas and omegas, and meekly agreed to spend more time at Poppy's house.
It took three more months and an intervention from his friends to get Jakob to realise that Poppy was Not Good For Him. He thankfully was able to get out without a bite binding him to her, but he wasn't quite so lucky in all aspects. Four weeks after he left Poppy behind for good, he got the news from his doctor that he hadn't left that horrible relationship entirely unscathed. He was pregnant. He was pregnant with, as it was revealed shortly after, with triplets. And all of a sudden, his life was turned upsidedown.
It was a difficult pregnancy, and sooner than Jakob liked he was forced to stop working. Restricted to bed rest, he suddenly found himself with an abundance of free time. And what does a fashion designer do when they're stuck in bed? They sew. They sew by hand, meticulously counting stitches, creating pleats one by one, and cursing when thread slips out of needles. They create garments without having a client to wear them. After five months in bed, they amass an entire collection, and one hell of a callous from pushing a needle through tough fabric.
Jakob's delivery wasn't much easier than his pregnancy. He laboured for hours before being told by the doctor that he needed to have a cesarean because two of the babies were breech. It wasn't his original plan, but then again... none of this was in his 'original plan'. After that, thankfully, it was relatively quick and easy. As easy as an emergency C-Section to retrieve triplets that had been conceived by force in a relationship that ticked every abusive box there was. Jakob was gifted with three healthy, albeit small, pups. Violet was the biggest of the three, then Maxwell, and last but not least, tiny little Zachary who had to spend the most time in the NICU. They spent sixteen days in the hospital, and in that time Jake was asked no less than thirty times if his Alpha was out of town, if they were coming, won't they be thrilled to see their babies?? Arika eventually had to threaten the charge nurse, because seeing the haunted look in her son's eyes every time Poppy was brought up instilled a very special kind of rage in her.
When it was discovered that Zachary, teensy and fragile but louder than his siblings, had been born deaf, Jakob blamed himself. No matter how many times he was told that it wasn't his fault, that it was nothing he did, he wouldn't stop beating himself up. It got to the point where the doctor thought he was suffering from post-partum depression. It took his father coming in to talk to him, speaking in that gently stern voice that she was known for, for Jakob to snap out of it. He still felt a shiver of guilt when Zachary wouldn't respond to the doctor's auditory tests, but those shivers became less and less frequent. Eventually they disappeared entirely.
Jakob took his babies home on the first day of December. His parents came to stay, upping the number of humans in the little shared house to a grand total of eight. Thank god his housemates were the patient type, and also that Sofia insisted on paying for a hotel near Disneyland for them to escape the chaos as they got the babies onto a schedule. For the first month of the triplet's life, they were surrounded by love from each and every angle. Sloan and Chord adored their unofficial niece and nephews, and their grandparents doted on them constantly. But most of all, Jakob loved them furiously. Forgot to shower, forgot to sleep, forgot to eat kind of love. If he wasn't with them, if he had to be in another room while they slept, he missed them. At night, he spent more time sitting in the silence of their nursery, the tiny room that had once been his workroom. It wasn't until they were eight months old that Jakob dared leave them with Sofia and Arika for a few hours when he went to Chord's little brother's birthday.
Jakob gave up the idea of returning to his job after the babies were born. He just couldn't fathom the thought of being away from them for that long. That doesn't mean he didn't work though. He'd put the clothes he'd made while on bedrest up for sale on Etsy, and it surprised him how quickly his shop sold out. He continued to sew, though at a much slower pace at first, and his designs were always snapped up within a few hours. When the babies were a year and a half, Jakob decided to take the next step. With some help from Chord's brother, Coda, he put up his own website and officially launched his own label - Dark Wolfe. The models on his website consisted of Sloan and Chord, Chord's siblings Lyric and Coda, Coda's mate Galen, and his parents. It wasn't a lot, but it made him so happy that he would often just look at the site and cry.
As the triplets grew, the adults in the house realised that they needed more space. It was Chord who found a large house that was so affordable that it made Sloan question jokingly (mostly) if they were in the opening scene of some horror movie and they'd all wind up murdered or possessed by demons. It wasn't perfect by any means, but after some minor repairs and a fresh coat of paint, it became the perfect home for all of them. The triplets had a yard to play in, Jakob didn't have to keep his sewing machine on the dining table, and they were close to Coda and his family.
With his designs selling well, and the kids healthy and happy, Jakob is happy. A little lonely, perhaps, but very happy.
sarah • Logophiliac#6297 (discord) • pst (bc) • mark fischbach (markiplier)