#Sergi Stolyarchuk

[shamelesslyaddict]

Sergi at the pound

(Stolen from facebook)

@barbwritesstuff

[andr0leda]

AWOOOGA

☽ beloved Sergi (right) belongs to @barbwritesstuff, Chelsea ‘Cherry’ Roberts (she/her) belongs to me unfortunately ☾

[barbwritesstuff]

hi i still have Sergi brainworms and legit think it's hilarious he thinks the MC could Do Better Than Him when the Stolyarchuk men are all Prime Bears and i am a thirsty twink. i am taking Sergi to a gay bar just so he can be swarmed by a bunch of twiggy little dudes who want nothing more than to be snapped in half by a werewolf lumberjack 😩

The Stolyarchuk genes are strong... and they say 'you will be hairy, stocky, and doomed to be swarmed by thirsty twinks'.

[zozo-01]

"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. 

[ejunkiet]

cherry on top by siren_call (18+)

blood moon if: chelsea (alpha!mc) / sergi stolyarchuk

"So it's true?" he sits up, so they’re almost face to face, his arm wraps all the way around her.

"Yeah."

He gets a strange look on his face. "Pulled me out of the river of death with your bare claws, huh?" and it's quiet, delivered like a joke.

But she can't laugh, not about his death. Not when the heart in her throat threatens to choke her like river water. Sergi’s unresponsive body in her arms. The feel of his shirt in her fist. The blood.

Chelsea holds his face gently in her hands, looks down into his eye, and so gently, possibly the softest thing she's ever done, she places a kiss over his right eye.

"Always." she promises as an alpha, as something more.

currently going feral over this blood moon fic, enough that I’m bringing back fic rec friday for it -- intimate and tender and deliciously steamy, and just. yeah. ONE FOR THE SERGI FANCLUB.

[andr0leda]

woof

been thinking about @barbwritesstuff‘s Sergi again...

[andr0leda]

“i’m loyal, i got the heart of a dog”

body/scar/tattoo sketches of Sergi & Chelsea, i’m blaming @zozo-01 for these Sergi belongs to @barbwritesstuff

[shamelesslyaddict]

Day two of thinking about nothing but sergi

I just think its so fucking sad that such a sweet and gruff guy went to a party hoping to drink and meet someone special and literally ended up torn apart. Like, he is so angry after, and he confides that it's the brain damage and he doesn't understand why he's so angry all of the time. He knows his pack doesn't want to accept that he is different now, and he seems to feel a lot of shame over it? At least, that's how his character read for me. He's deeply insecure when the MC comes onto him, he thinks they should find someone younger, prettier, he thinks "you can have anyone, why would you want me?" And you have to be like, noooo sweet boy, you're perfect and beautiful the way you are and you deserve love, you deserve all of the love. He's a bit insecure about his body, the way he's built. But damn if I'm not imagining a grade A hunk of beef. He just. Ugh. My heart

[shamelesslyaddict]

Just a little aesthetic post for my MC in Blood Moon

Name: Jazmine

Height: 5′8″

Hair and eyes: Dirty blonde 2a hair with clear blue eyes

Wolf colours: blonde with blue eyes

Hobbies: Loves painting with cheap acrylics but sucks at it

Clothes: practical (Jeans, t shirt, boots)

Favourite quote: Red sky at night, sailors take delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.

 Mate: Sergi Stolarychuk

(All images ripped from Google Images. I own none of them)

[shamelesslyaddict]

I wanted to write a Sergi fic but needed a prompt so

See the end of the post for a link to the prompt by @writing-prompt-s

It was dingy. That was the first thing Jazmine noticed as she peeked her eyes open. She didn't quite know where she was, not really recognizing the side of the street she stood on. The crumbling sidewalk felt cool against her feet. The second thing she noticed was that she wasn't wearing shoes. Strange.

As she gained her bearings, she looked around the empty roadway. She felt like she was missing something, forgetting something. Something important. It dawned on her quite suddenly from there that she hadn't finished the fight with Blackwell. She hadn't torn his skull from his body, hadn't felt his flesh melt away in her claws like she had expected. How did this happen? How did she get here? Where was everyone else? And as she remembered her pack, the group fighting and tearing thralls apart, she remembered him.

Sergi. She remembered watching him get slaughtered. He saved her, and, in return, she watched his neck get snapped at a grotesque angle. Sergi, the gruff but amusing older packmate who had taken a liking to her from the moment she was adopted into the pack. Sergi, who's silver-lined hair glimmered in the fluorescent lights at the warehouse as much as it did in the sun back in the forest. Sergi, whom she had kissed with all of her emotion just hours before his death. Sergi, who, despite having rejected her (or, so she thought), saved her life at the most terrifying moment she had ever experienced. Sergi, she remembered, the man she loved more than anything in the world, was dead.

There was a revving noise, the sound of a vehicle driving on its last leg at least a block away. She shifted her gaze toward the sound, her inner wolf perking its ears up. As the headlights in the distance approached, she let herself think about Sergi a little bit more. All she had now were her memories.

When they had first met, he had ruffled hair and sweat on his brow. He had been building the fire at which the pack was gathered. She was sitting, curled up on the ground, knees to her chest, her chin resting on her knees as she stared into the flames in front of her. She was tired, grimy, hadn't had a shower in days. Alpha had crouched next to her, gesturing at each person, whispering their names to her. She wasn't paying attention, more focused on the warmth of the fire around her chilled body. When she finally looked up, she made eye contact with the most handsome wolf she had ever seen in her life.

His sweat slicked hair was poking at odd angles, his brown eyes were filled with curiosity as he looked at her. His stubble was wild, ungroomed, had specks of silver in it. As they gazed at each other over the fire, she thought she saw a quick fleck of gold take over his irises, but it was gone so fast she was pretty sure it was just the reflection of the flames. A playful look came onto his face, with a smile so teasing it felt like she was home already.

"What, stray? You like what you see?" he called.

Jazmine had hoped her cheeks flushing wouldn't be noticeable through the fire. She looked up at him, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Nah, I've just never seen a clown in real life before."

The skinny blonde kid next to her screeched out a laugh, the dark skinned boy next to him covered a chuckle with his hand. The tall, scary lady even pushed down a tiny smirk. But nobody's laughter was as chaotic and joyful as the man across the fire from her. His laugh filled her with so much comfort, so much warmth, she didn't think she even needed the fire anymore. It made her want to laugh, and she did.

"Holy fuck, Al, this one's got some kick, doesn't she?" The Alpha just chuckled, shaking his head.

"I haven't heard someone roast Sergi that hard, in, well, ever. My name is Marco, welcome to the club!" The skinny blonde told her. She smiled at him, shook his offered hand. She got the impression that Marco only offered the handshake because he thought it was the right thing to do.

Sergi. She would have known that was his name if she had been paying attention earlier, but the sound of it now felt so nice to hear. Jazmine thinks this was probably when she developed her crush on the older man. The crush turned slowly into a flame of burning desire, passion, love. The time spent together joking, laughing, him affectionately calling her 'pup', the hair ruffles, the Saturday afternoons on the couch watching crappy reality TV shows. The beach visits, the hunts, the running in the forest just for the sake of running. All of it came to a head on that fateful night when she kissed him. She knew that there was a chance that she would never get to tell him how she felt, and now, there wasn't. He was dead.

The vehicle drew closer, and she had to squint to make out its features in through the headlights. Wait a minute, was that the Alpha's van?

A van that looked uncannily like the Alpha's slowed to a stop in front of her. She looked at it with disbelief. This couldn't be the same van, Alek's van had burnt with his body in it. But the dents and scratches from it's years of use were the same, the rust and paint chips too. The sliding door closest to her opened, and she heard the Alpha tell her to get in.

Wait a minute, how could Alek be here? How could he be picking her up? Unless... wait, was she dead too?

She looked around herself, waiting for the 'gotcha' moment, but it never came. The street was still empty, the door to the van still open.

"Are you coming?" Alek's voice rang out.

She shrugged to herself, took a last glance around, and clambered into the available seat in front of her. When she turned her head to appraise her surroundings, her eyes landed on him.

In the seat next to her, there he was. Both of his beautiful brown eyes met hers, and his cheeks crinkled up in a smile. His laugh lines deepened as his smile grew, and she reached her hand out toward him. Before she could touch him, though, his arms flew around her and yanked her in for the worlds tightest and most relieving hug. She breathed his scent, that wolfish, musky scent that brought her comfort from day one. After a moment, he pulled back, placed a rough hand on her cheek.

"Hey, pup."

Oh, how incredible it felt to hear that voice. She didn't even want to think about the stupidity of their kiss just before they had both perished. She just wanted to be with him, to never leave his side.

She looked around them, confusedly.

"Where are we?" she asked. Alek made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror. She didn't need to see his whole face to see his smile. Sergi chuckled.

"We don't really know, do we, Al? We've just been picking people up along the way." Alek nodded.

The confusion, sadness, regret, filled her so quickly it was like a dam had broken and overwhelmed her initial joy at seeing them. Sergi could tell, because his other hand moved to cup her other cheek. He lifted her face, forcing her eyes to come back to his.

"I know, it feels scary, and sad, to leave everyone else." He says.

A sob escaped her throat, and before she could stop herself, she heaved out "But that's not everything! You died because of me!"

Sergi laughed. Actually laughed. He pulled her back into his broad chest for another hug.

"Oh, Jaz, you think I died because of you? I died because Blackwell killed me. You had nothing to do with it."

"But you saved me, and you died for it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." he mumbled, and she maybe believed him.

"Sergi, did you honestly imagine that you'd ever die like this?" Her tears slowed, but she sounded nasally from the outburst.

His laugh is gleeful, filling, warm.

"Protecting you? Protecting the pack? Fighting for our territory? Actually, yes, this is exactly how I imagined I'd die."

She smiled, a genuine happy smile, at the sound of his incredulous tone.

"Jazmine." he sounded serious. "I love you, more than anything, and I would gladly die protecting you any day of the week. I would do it again."

She chuckles this time. "You can't do it again, we're already dead."

"Then lets spend eternity being dead, together."

Author Note: I do not own Sergi, Blood Moon, or the rest of it's characters. Jazmine, well, she's kinda mine. This ficlet takes place in a universe where Sergi and Jazmine both die without ever confronting their feelings. I couldn't actually remember what happens when MC dies so I took snippets of what I remember an ad-libbed the rest. I hope you enjoy!

[shamelesslyaddict]

And another thing about my boy Sergi, he's so sweet and loving and he just. He just loves MC. It doesn't even matter if you romanced him or not, he just fucking loves you. He thinks you're the best stray, he believes in you. He voluntold you for the meeting Blackwell mission. Because he thinks so highly of you. He thinks you're responsible and strong and he thinks you're the best choice to play diplomat. He just. Kills me. Softly. I want to marry him

[shamelesslyaddict]

My toxic trait is every time I try to romance someone else in Blood Moon I always end up kissing sergi

[shamelesslyaddict]

Ugh I guess since I can't draw, I'm just gonna write myself a ficlet featuring interactions I would 100% draw if I didn't draw like a 5 year old

It's funny, he thinks; all he ever wanted was someone to grow old with, someone to spend time with, someone who would love him unconditionally. He wanted a mate; he wanted to have cubs one day, he wanted to have a wedding and invite the whole pack. He thought of that frequently as he was growing up. And sure, he had dated people, hoped that each one would be the person for him. But they weren't.

He soon gave up his dream of finding a partner, instead devoting his life and himself to his pack. Secretly, he watched his uncle Nik and his aunt Grace with some sort of jealousy. He saw the way Alek and Minjo looked at each other, spoke to each other, and he wanted that type of connection. But he accepted he wasn't meant for that, wasn't good enough for that. He stopped looking.

So, yeah, he thinks it's funny that his mate came in the form of a feisty young stray who talks too much and always gives attitude. He always imagined himself with someone his own age, someone who would get old and creaky when he got old and creaky. Instead, here he stands, with his silver streaked hair and his crows-feet, looking into the shimmering blue eyes of the woman before him. Her hair, long and dark blonde -almost brown, really- catches the light above them and shines around the crown of her head. It looks almost angelic, that halo of light. He loves her hair, loves the way its curly, but not deliberately or neatly curly; it's messy in that natural curl sort of way. Her skin is pale, the only color being a light pink in her cheeks. He wonders how she hasn't gotten a sunburn yet since he's met her. Maybe it's her genetics.

The shape of her face is even more beautiful than her eyes, or her hair. She has high, round cheekbones, a strong jaw, and an ever so slightly cleft chin. He loves her cheekbones, the way they pop out even further when she smiles, the way they almost hide her eyes when she is laughing with glee. When he mentioned it, his love of her cheekbones, she giggled. Her mother was Native American, she had said, and Native Americans have exquisite facial structure. Her father, as white as white can be, is where she claims to have gotten that cleft chin, her skintone, her eye color. He laughs, he normally wouldn't care about any of these details, but when it's about her, when she's telling him these things about herself, well, he can't help but to remember every single detail.

When she first kissed him, he was shocked to his core. He had known for a long time that he loved her. He never once thought that she would feel that way about him, not when he was so much older, so much more gruff, scarred and battered. He thought she was making a mistake, but he couldn't resist kissing her back, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer to himself. He thought himself selfish, and when he realized he had overindulged in her naivety, he pushed her away. And he ran. Maybe he didn't actually sprint away, but he bolted, went inside. Tried to get away from her. She was always stubborn, feisty, unrelenting, and naturally, she followed right after him. He played dumb, didn't want to acknowledge what he had done. And she accepted that. Or so he thought.

He felt guilty after that. He felt he had ruined her, taken advantage of her. He felt she was too young to really understand what she was getting into. And part of him believed that, in some way, she was making fun of him. She had heard him confide to Nikolas that all he had ever wanted was a mate. He was scared, so fucking scared, that she was pitying him. Pitying the lonely old man.

When she approached him after the memorial, he felt compelled to apologize. He didn't want her to think he was a pervert, a dirty old man who takes advantage of young and inexperienced girls. Boy, he realizes now, if he had put those thoughts into words, well. She would have smacked him upside the head. He knows now, that even if there is some age gap there, Jazmine is not an idiot. And she knows what she wants. Even if what she wants is a grumpy old man.

It took a long time for him to trust that she just loved him. That she wanted him, wanted to be with his crippled, brain damaged ass. That she was ready to take on the world with him by her side. He had been waiting for her to realize how ruined he was, how useless he was. He has no arm and no eye for fucks sake. But she doesn't care. He believes her now, trusts in her love. Night after night she spent holding him close, his weight crushing her, while he battled the thoughts in his head. She would howl, softly, for only him to hear.

PeacePeacePeacePeace

LoveLoveLoveLoveLoveLove

Those howls got him through the worst of it, feeling that pure and honest love wash over him calmed his fears and his anxieties. He would lay with his head on her chest, right over the scar left behind by the silver infused wound she sustained the night he lost his arm. He still presses kisses to that scar, every time he can, he nuzzles his face against it too, hoping to feel and hear her heartbeat.

She wants cubs, she told him. She wants to have cubs with him. His heart had leapt into his throat, excitement pooling in his gut. He couldn't help but worry, though, that he was too old for that. He wouldn't be able to chase cubs around the same way a young man could. He told her that.

"Are you saying you don't want to have cubs with me?" she asked, serious.

"That's not what I'm saying, Jaz. I'm asking if you're one hundred percent aware that I am old as fuck, and that you could have cubs with someone younger, someone more energetic."

She had scoffed, rolled her eyes. Her arms crossed over her chest. A normal person would think she was defensive, ready to fight. Sergi knew that this was her insecure stance, her second guessing herself stance.

"I want to have cubs. With you. Maybe not this year, or next. But I want that. If you don't, just say no. Be a man, and tell me that you don't. But don't blame your age or my naivety for you backing out." Her voice was strong. She was strong. He scrubbed his hand down his face and grumbled.

"Jaz. Having cubs with you would be incredible. That's what I want. I just like to be sure that you're sure, you know that."

She softened. She does know that. Her arms had uncrossed and fallen to her sides.

"It's just..." he starts again. She hardened a bit, ready to bite back at whatever contradictory thing he was about to say. "I- I want to marry you first." He had finished, softly, his gaze now on the floor. He had wanted a more romantic approach to this, but neither of them were very good at romance.

And that is how they ended up where they are now, standing in front of one another, gazing lovingly into one another's eyes. The light keeps catching her hair, the shimmer further enhancing her beauty. Jazmine is a little bit taller than Sergi, not because she's a particularly tall woman, but because Sergi is on the shorter side. He has to look upwards a little, but he doesn't care because when someone this enchanting is marrying you in front of your entire pack- your family-, nothing like that will ever matter. Her gown is white, long, and it brushes the floor. The neckline plunges a little, meaning that Sergi can see that scar. The scar that, in its own way, matches his own. He's never worn a suit before, but when Jazmine asked him to please take this some sort of seriously, of course he was going to comply. It's blue, and it fits him just a little bit too tightly, which he knows Jaz will love. Ed, of all people, got ordained for this occasion. He was probably the best choice, seeing as he is the most human of them all anyway. Sergi has Marco on his side of the altar, and Jazmine has that new stray, Carrie. Everyone is dressed to their best, Izzie had thrown flower petals everywhere excitedly, and baby Nik and baby Alek had toddled down the aisle each carrying a small pillow with a ring on it. The only thing that could make this better, Sergi thinks, as he takes in the well-decorated warehouse and the people surrounding them, is if Uncle Nik and Alpha Alek were here to see. His heart clenches a little bit at the thought, but even that couldn't lighten the smile on his face.

"You may now kiss your bride."

Ed isn't even through the sentence when Sergi throws his arm around his bride, pulls her close, and presses their lips together. He feels Jazmine's arms wrapping around him, holding him tighter as she kisses him back. He's gotten what he's always wanted.

A mate.

(Note: I know canonically the MC has the same skin tone as their mother, but I wanted to change that up a little bit for Jazmine. I hope you enjoy this short piece regardless!)

[barbwritesstuff]

demo rn - Marco: Ed would've loved this; Ed: quit tellin people I'm dead! 😂 i love the epilogue. wolf country? chefs kiss. gotta say, i wasn't expecting Sergi to become a ro, but i adore this grumpy old man. my absolute favorite were the scenes with cubs. in the future people will say: ah yes, the Stolyarchuk siblings, two of them are wolves but it's the one with the crossbow you wanna look out for. i also have a headcanon that mc's petname for Alek Jr is Baby Quoll

1. Marco acting like Ed is dead when he is, in fact, sitting right beside him may be the funniest mistake I've ever made.

2. I'm super glad you liked the epilogue stuff, especially wolf country.

3. I didn't expect Sergi to become an RO either.

4. 100%. In 20 years time, the Stolyarchuk siblings are going to be renowned... but the one who doesn't turn into a wolf is the one who's going to be the most dangerous.

5. Baby Quoll! That's perfect. 💙

[barbwritesstuff]

Hi Barb! I finally had time to read Blood Moon this weekend and I love it so much! I didn't even know how much I liked werewolves until I read your story 💓 I was wondering if you had descriptions for all the members of the pack written down somewhere? I would love to try my hand at drawing them sometime!

Oh! That's so cool! I love it when people draw my characters. 💙

The members of Pack A are:

The Romance Options

Marco

Lanky and lean with shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and light skin. Marco has tattoos of roses on thorny vines across his shoulders and on his upper arms. He's also the proud owner of a 10,000 megawatt smile. He doesn't have a lot of money and usually wears mismatched hand-me-downs from the pack.

Age: 26

Height: 176.6cm

Heritage: Mixed

Vicky

Tall and well built with long braided hair and dark skin. She wears all black (usually tank tops, cargo pants, and combat boots) and will kick your arse if you mess with those she loves. She way too self sacrificing for her own good, and will regularly throw herself into danger for her pack.

Age: 28

Height: 189.7cm

Heritage: Mixed

Ed

Short and cute with natural, artfully messy hair, and dark skin. Ed is one of the few stylish werewolves you'll ever meet, and is particularly fond of oversized sweaters, and vintage clothes. He's also a massive tech nerd/internet addict. If he doesn't have his phone in his hands, something is very wrong.

Age: 21

Height: 165.5cm

Heritage: Mixed

The Stolyarchuk Family

Aleksandr (The Alpha)

Big, muscular, bulky, and scarred with dark hair, light skin, and brown eyes. A tough looking papa wolf... who is actually a real softie, especially when it comes to his kids. Alek wears cheap practical clothes like hoodies and track pants.

Age: Late 30s

Heritage: Serbian

Nikolas Sr. (Big Nik)

Alek's uncle. Like his nephew, Nik is heavyset with dark eyes, and light skin. He's not as muscular though, and his hair has long since gone grey.

Age: Early 60s

Heritage: Serbian

Sergi

Alek's cousin, and Nikolas' nephew. Sergi, like the rest of his family, is stocky with dark hair, light skin, and brown eyes. Despite being older than Alek he's more of a prankster and can be a bit reckless in the heat of the moment.

Age: Early 40s

Heritage: Serbian

Note: Sergi's appearance does change throughout the duration of the game Blood Moon.

Minjo

Alek's wife. Minjo is slim with dark hair, light skin, and dark eyes. She's also human and heavily pregnant. This doesn't stop her from rushing around the den, caring for (and sometimes scolding) her adopted werewolf family.

Age: Mid 30s

Heritage: Korean

JiAn

Alek and Minjo's first child. JiAn is a normally quiet kid who would rather follow than lead.

Age: 5

Heritage: Mixed (Serbian/Korean)

Nikolas Jr. (Little Nik)

Alek and Minjo's second child. Nik is very young and still coming into his own.

Age: 3

Heritage: Mixed (Serbian/Korean)

Other members of this family include Grace (Nikolas' wife) as well as a number of less important characters such as Marta, Joe, Terry, and Leo, plus half a dozen unnamed pack members.

The Leorux/Casella Family

Addison (Addie)

Short, thin, and wiry with tanned skin and cropped grey hair. Addie's fond of leather vests, usually covered in patches.

Age: mid 70s

Heritage: French

Elma

Addie's wife. Elma is plump with fluffy white hair, olive skin, and a warm smile. She wears horn rimmed glasses and shares her wife's love of leather vests, though sometimes also branches into denim.

Age: mid 70s

Heritage: Italian

Isabel (Izzie)

Elma's granddaughter and Addie's step-granddaughter. She likes pink, princesses, and being the boss. If you ever see a wolf cub run by wearing a pink crown, that's Izzie, off on one of her adventures. She's got dark hair and a wide gap toothed smile.

Age: 5

Heritage: Italian

The members of Pack B are:

Roe

Roe is lean with tan skin, dark eyes, and long feathery brown hair. They're also stunningly beautiful with a more feminine face, and masculine body. But, rather than walk the catwalk, Roe has become the Alpha of their pack and dedicated themselves to ensuring it can overcome its ugly, violent past. Roe wears either simple nondescript clothes, or black motorbike leathers.

Age: 28

Height: 179.9cm

Heritage: Mixed

Shawnie

Short and curvy with hazel eyes, heavily freckled pale skin, and bright orange hair, shaved short on one side. Shawnie is the other pack's resident flirt, and is a pretty outrageous one at that. She likes to wear cut off shorts, crop tops, and bright red lipstick. She's also a certified bad arse (not to mention drug dealer), and can use either her claws, or her shotgun, to get what she wants.

Age: 26

Height: 157.9cm

Heritage: Irish

Farro

Very tall and muscular with light brown/olive skin, long black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and incredibly dark eyes. Farro is a classic introvert, and has even built a cabin in the woods near (but not too near) the rest of his pack. He's a widower, and single dad, who wears practical clothes he can mend himself.

Age: 32

Height: 192cm

Heritage: Pakistani

Hani

Farro's daughter and Shawnie's niece. Hani is an ambitious, opinionated girl who is always excited to explore and learn new things... unless, of course, those things are maths. Her mother died when she was very young which means it's up to her to drag her somewhat shy father into social situations. She has olive skin and curly auburn hair.

Age: 8

Heritage: Mixed (Irish/Pakistani)

Pack B is a large pack and has roughly sixty unnamed members.

That just leaves our token stray:

Carrie

Thin with pale skin, brown hair, and grey eyes. Carrie usually wears simple casual clothes, and a bunch of studs and/or bars in her many ear piercings. She's in recovery and often looks sick or unwell, but can always muster up energy for a cutting remark or two.

Age: 24

Height: 165.7cm

Heritage: Mixed