#and cherry's sergi tattoo is on her right arm because sergi lost his right arm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zozo-01 · 1 year

Text

"a shared name (and a little more than that)."

In honour of the fact that tattoos are hot as hell, I thought it be nice if we gave Sergi a little bit of angst. Gotta give my favourite werewoof some of my signature love on this blog!!!

The lovely Chelsea "Cherry" Roberts and tattoo design that started this fic belongs to talented @andr0leda and the amazing Sergi Stolyarchuk belongs to wonderful @barbwritesstuff!!!

[Also tagging @daveyistheloml because she is my number one Stan and I need to indoctrinate her to play the game, @gingerbreadmonsters , she too shall be indoctrinated and @ejunkiet who showed me this wonderful fandom to begin with!!!]

CW: Talks of survival guilt, Grief, Mentions of a major character passing, Fem! Alpha MC, Hopefully no fucked up formatting because we're posting this fic to AO3 ;--;

click here for the ao3 link!

How does one deal with being a ghost of their past?

It’s something Sergi has been struggling with since that night. The night when Alek died and he lost his arm and everything went to hell. Where he lost the one constant in his life, the man he could count on.

(He gained another constant at that same moment.)

He looks back to the days when he and Alek were less scarred, literally and metaphorically, by the world that had shaped them. Despite the two men being cousins, many thought them to be brothers, and in some cases, they thought they were twins. Sergi would argue that if they were twins, he would be the more attractive one. Alek just rolled his eyes at the older man’s confidence, but he never argued otherwise.

The boys never blamed anyone for the innocent mistake. For cousins, they looked uncannily similar. Thinking about that just brought Sergi more dread.

They say blood doesn’t define family, but in the case of the Stolyarchuk boys, it bonded them together. Their very beings were created from the same stardust, tying them together on this plane of existence. Where one goes, the other is close behind, ready to defend each other against every threat they face. From bar fights to asking Minjo out on that first date, Alek was ready to drag his idiot older cousin from trouble and Sergi was ready to fight for his baby cousin.

That’s what brothers do.

The night that Alek had become Alpha, the two had gone out to get tattoos commemorating the event. A big night meant a big celebration, and what bigger one was there than a matching tattoo, some booze and ample hope for what the future will bring? After carefully reviewing their options (really it was Alek stopping Sergi from choosing the first tattoo he saw), they decided to get the others' wolf form, starting from the chest and trailing down their arms.

A silent promise was made that night. That Aleksandr would lead his pack into a bright and prosperous future (and make his big brother proud), and that Sergi will always be Alek’s right-hand man no matter what (and to keep his baby brother safe).

Unbeknownst to Alek, Sergi had a special request for his tattoo. If you looked carefully at the fur of the wolf’s neck, you can see little words hidden among the lines. Мој мали брат. My little brother. No matter where Sergi had gone, he would carry his little brother with him.

(It’s a shame, really, that Chelsea will never get the chance to. He wanted to share every part of him and now part of him was missing.)

He lost that connection when his arm was ripped from his body, when his little brother was ripped from his life. The only physical reminder that he had of Alek was staring right back at him in the mirror.

To call his death an adjustment period would be a disrespect to the impact Alek had on the pack’s lives. It’s been months since the Blackwell attack, and even longer since the crash, yet everyone still looks at Sergi like he’s him. That because they share the same name or look eerily similar, that he has all the right answers.

He doesn’t. He will never be half the leader Alek was, but that didn’t change how the pack couldn’t separate the two.

It won’t change the fact that Alek’s name will follow his when Marco asks Sergi to join in on pack fun. Before, Sergi would drag Alek to relax with his family. Now there wasn’t a scowling Alpha begrudgingly following him.

It didn’t change the fact that he could see Minjo’s eyes glistening under the light, wiping her own tears before anyone could see them fall. He knew that in her mind’s eye, her husband was playing with their kids, as it should be.

It didn’t change the fact that JiAn and Nikolas Jr. have called him father. The children’s eyes were blurry and for a blissful moment, they forgot that their father’s funeral was weeks ago. Sergi was more than willing to provide that respite from grief, even if it amplified his own.

As children, Alek and Sergi were brimmed with pride that they were forever intertwined. As a man, Sergi so desperately wanted to separate from his brother, an action he knew would be impossible. Even his own heart had forgotten where he ended and Alek began.

Or should he say “had begun,” considering there was no Alek left for his magic to be weaved with? His death had left a void in its wake, an ever-present feeling (or lack thereof) that just felt wrong. It was a void that his wolf, his magic, his very being was so desperate to fill.

There was no more Sergi and Alek.

Just Sergi.

And that was the loneliest outcome of all.

He looks back up at the mirror, Alek’s ghost staring right back at him. He deserves it. To be eternally haunted by the brother he could not save. To be constantly reminded of the beloved father, husband and Alpha that he let die. For once in his life, he wishes that he didn’t resemble Alek as much as he did. That he could go back to being Alek’s cousin, not brother. Maybe then it would be easier for him to look at his reflection.

(It wouldn’t. His own image has forever been tainted by the dead.)

If he focused, really focused, he could still see his right arm attached to his body. He could see the full wolf art of his late brother. And he could still see the little writing within the fur of the neck. Мој мали брат. It's a cruel twist of fate that the immediate moment Alek had died, Sergi’s tattoo to honour his brother was forcibly removed too. Almost like he wasn’t worthy of that joyful memory between the two, tainted like every other memory that he held precious. He’d be inclined to believe that to be the case.

Sergi wasn’t a man who usually shed tears, but in that bathroom, he clutched his head and as he cracked under the pressure of the weight of Alek’s memory. Was it so much for a man to want his brother back? Please? If there was a God out there, wouldn’t He be kind enough to grant this simple wish? (Sergi knew he should have prayed more when he was younger.)

There was a soft tap against the door and it dragged Sergi out of his pool of misery. (She was making it a habit to save him from drowning.)

Shit, he thought that Chelsea was already asleep when he got up. Had he woken her up? Ruined her sleep because he couldn’t swallow down his pain as he should?

“Sergi, can I come in? Or are you gonna come out soon?” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, not the usual Alpha voice she has started to use around the pack. But rather the love-filled tone that was reserved for him and him alone. Forgive him for being a little wolf-like, but knowing that only he was privy to her more carefree yet loving side did wonders for him.

He sighed, washing his face to get rid of his weakness. “Yeah, Cherry Baby, I’m coming out.” He placed his hand and took a deep breath, composing himself before he saw her. He didn’t need to dump more shit on her than she already carries. He opened the door, his dark brown eyes meeting her kind gaze. His wolf howled at the sense of peace she brought him.

safesafesafesafe

Ain’t this a pretty sight? Sergi Stolyarchuk howling because of a person he loves. The things Chelsea did to him were indescribable, not like he’s complaining.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his collarbone. “Everything all right? You’ve been in there for a while and I heard some sniffling.” Of course, she heard him there. Forgetting the fact that she’s an Alpha, she’s also a wolf with better hearing than most of the damn planet.

He buried his face in her hair, trying to put together an excuse that’ll satisfy Chelsea’s need to take care of everyone (though she argues as Alpha that it’s her duty to), and make sure he wasn’t lying to her. Sergi repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, willing for some words to leave his mouth, knowing every silent moment made her more worried. He started to shake in her arms, trying to hold back the floodgate of emotions to pour out of him.

Before he could say anything, Chelsea rubbed her hands up and down his bare back. She maneuvered herself so that she could hold Sergi’s face in her hands and looked him in the eye. “If you don’t wanna talk now, that’s ok. But I am here for you, always and forever.”

‘Safe. Sergi.’ Her wolf cried out to him. ‘You’re safe with me and you won’t get hurt, not if I have anything to say about it. As your Alpha and as your lover, nothing will bring you pain while you’re in my arms, not for as long as I have a pulse and a heart hellbent on protecting you.’

Oh, the hold this woman has on him. He wouldn’t change it for the world.

He smiled and rested his forehead against hers, the single most devoted gesture that a wolf can do for their mate. (Mate, huh? He never thought he’d be the type to get a mate, but if it’s Chelsea then he’d choose her a hundred times over, in every lifetime.) “Thank you, Chesna. For everything you do for me,” he choked out through his tears.

She used both hands to cup his face, wiping his tears and bringing him closer for a kiss. Kissing Chelsea may be the greatest experience that there was ever to exist. Flying to the moon or winning a championship may produce incomparable euphoria, but there were multiple rings to win or space missions to be had.

There was only one Chelsea Roberts to kiss. One Chelsea with her cherry lips and her rosy cheeks that flushed when she got embarrassed. One Chelsea and her authoritative smirk that he was madly obsessed with kissing off her face. One Chelsea who looked and held him like he was the most precious and beautiful star in the night sky, despite the scars and bruises that marred his body.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she said as she kissed the scar where his right eye should be. “Your scars are beautiful because it’s proof that you’re alive and here. That you survived through hell and came out with a smile.” She spent the rest of that night kissing and complimenting his body. It’s a night he reminisces about when he’s feeling his lowest.

There was one Chelsea Roberts and Sergi Stolyarchuk had the honour of calling her his. What a lucky bastard.

She pulled away from the forever-too-brief kiss, giggling at his pout when she didn’t lean in for another one. “All right there, loverboy. Let’s head back to bed” – she gently pushed him at his suggestive expression – “and get some sleep. Actual sleep.”

He laughed at her adorable and exasperated expression, letting her drag him back to their bed. His heart felt full knowing that he was able to share himself at his most vulnerable moment and that Chelsea could do the same. For two guarded people, any step taken with trust and love in mind made him giddy.

The two wolves slid under the covers and faced each other. Chelsea smiled, thumbing the scar over his right eye and looked at him with all the love she could muster. It was a slow process, he is a stubborn bastard, but he was slowly accepting the fact that he was worthy of the look. She made him feel like he was worth a second look of adoration.

It was all too much for him, but the good kind. The kind of ‘too much’ that makes your heart sink because of how full your heart feels.

Choking on his utter love and devotion and admiration he has for her, he managed to tell her, “I love you, Chesna.”

Her eyes widened, and she stopped herself from denying his feelings for her. He hated that. That there was a part of Cherry that would always be shocked to hear that, like she hasn’t heard it before a thousand times. No matter, he’ll always be here to remind her how his magic sang for her.

With shy eyes and a beautiful smile, she repeated back to him, “I love you too.”

Both of their wolves howled in sync, overcome by the connection the two had for each other.

lovelovelovelove

Chelsea guided his head to lay on her chest, playing with his hair and singing a lullaby from when she was young. With every note the woman let out, Sergi fell deeper and deeper into a sleep.

Before he could fully enter the realm of dreams, a final thought crossed his mind like a shooting star.

The night he lost his constant in Alek, he gained another one through Chelsea. And whatever stardust created him, he was certain that she was from that same nebula, and that connection would bind them together for the rest of their time on this plane.

He never thought he could picture a future without his brother. He was certain that whatever dreams he had would revolve around him.

He dreamt that night about a future with his lover.

#blood moon if #blood moon sergi #blood moon oc #oh?? zo hurting a werewoof that isn't darlin??? say it ain't so!!!#dw dw darlin will still get angst on this blog #BUT RN ITS SERGI TIMEEE #the werewoofs are helping zo make moots >:333 #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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