Hello 👋 Poka here, nice to meet you! Thank you for your time read this intro page XD
I'm new here, made this account to post my writes and arts!
Currently into yumeship too, so you might see more often OC x Canon content. What did I do? Quite sure I'm a hobbyist artist. Talk in EN and mostly INA.
I do yumeship with Fyodor Dostoevsky and Hirako Shinji, both of them is OK! Sharing so let's hype each other❤️ I don't have much boundaries (for now) and I respect any kind of your boundaries❤️✨Thank you, have a great day🌸
Basim walked beside Leila with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. A posture that looked composed, almost scholarly. Almost.
Because every few steps, his shoulder would brush hers, and each time it happened, the man who could scale walls in silence suddenly forgot how to breathe normally.
Around most people, his tongue was quick, his posture easy to slipping through crowds and conversations alike. But around her? Allah have mercy.
Leila, of course, noticed. She always noticed.
“You’re unusually quiet,” she said at last.
Basim cleared his throat. “I am... thinking.”
“You are breathing,” she corrected.
He huffed softly as they walked in silence for a few moments more, sandals brushing dust in quiet rhythm. A group of children ran past them, laughing, one boy clutching something shiny in his fist like treasure.
Basim’s gaze followed them and something in his expression shifted.
“…You know,” he said slowly. “I used to be better than that boy.”
Leila turned her head.
“Oh? Pickpocketing?”
His hands came free from behind his back as he spoke, fingers moving subtly in the air like he was already reenacting the memory.
“You see, most people think pickpocketing is about quick hands,” he said.
Leila folded her arms loosely.
“And it isn’t?”
Basim glanced at her sideways, eyes glinting.
“It is about patience. You must watch first. Always watch. How they walk. Which hand they favor. Whether they count their coins when they think no one sees.”
Leila studied him, head slightly tilted.
“You sound proud.”
“I was very good,” Basim said without shame.
“You see, the trick is not the hand.” His fingers flicked through the air.
“It is the moment.”
Leila’s eyes narrowed with interest.
“What moment?”
Basim leaned in just slightly as he walked, voice lowering like he was sharing a dangerous secret.
“The moment when a person believes they are safe.”
Then, casually his hand brushed past her side. A light bump of shoulders A passing movement. Nothing more.
He stepped back again, hands raised slightly in mock innocence.
“There,” he said.
Leila frowned faintly. “…There what?”
“Check your knife.”
Silence. She's checking her belt.
Empty.
Her eyes sharpened instantly. Basim, very calmly, lifted his hand, her knife rested perfectly balanced between his fingers. The air between them went very still.
For once Leila looked genuinely caught off guard.
Basim’s smile turned softer at the edges, a little proud, a little teasing.
“I was very good,” he said quietly.
Leila stared at him. Then at her knife. Then back at him.
“…You’re insufferable.”
Basim stepped closer again, slower this time always careful with her. He offered the knife back, handle-first and their fingers brushed briefly as she took it.
And just like that Basim’s confidence cracked. His gaze flicked away and his shoulders tightened again. Like the bold boy from moments ago had vanished.
“…You should be more careful,” he muttered.
Leila slid the knife back into place with deliberate calm. Then she leaned just slightly closer. Close enough that Basim immediately went still.
“If I wasn’t careful,” she murmured, voice soft and sharp all at once, “you would lose another fingers, Basim.”
Then he exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face with a quiet, defeated breath.
“…This woman,” he muttered under his breath, before quickly moving to catch up beside her again
In his long life, Fyodor Dostoevsky encountered someone he never expected—someone capable of reading his chessboard. In the grand chess game of life, he had always been adept at placing his pieces with precision–assessing, moving, sacrificing. Yet one thing he realized too late was that a pawn he had expected to follow his lead had chosen its own path, trapping him within the very game he thought he controlled. Little did he know, it was never his pawn to begin with. All along, he had been playing against someone else.
In the shadows, someone managed to uncover the one thing he had always kept to himself—his ability.
And amid his long, winding life, he finally found someone worthy of the game, Alcina Miraslavska.
A/n: finally done this one😭 my phone screamed.. anyway say hi to my oc Alcy. Her story and Fyodor far from canon timeline, it's take a few years back before Fyodor in Yokohama. Please leave a trace if you want to know more about her(≧▽≦)
I ALREADY READ CHAPTER 114.5 AND IT'S... *Chef kiss
Rest in peace for Bram anyway, im truly sorry for what happened. BUT– HUSBAND. IS. ALIVE. I'm gonna make sure to make him repent and return to the right path, SO PLS DON'T CURSE HIM INTO THE DEATH. Also! I made this for his back, hope you enjoy!
➛ cw: mature content, dark content, kidnapping, age gap, manhandling | words: 3.9k
➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu
Your lips are muttering numbers.
It is hard to count the cash in your hands while they are covered with worn-out gloves. Slowly but surely, you total up all the notes, smiling to yourself that you have surpassed a personal goal for tonight. You stuff the cash notes into your small baby blue pouch, zipping it up before you focus on your route again.
The pavement is covered with a sheer layer of snow, which is piling up as more snowflakes are pouring from the cold night sky. Your boots clack onto the cement. Tap, tap, tap—they go.
You just finished your shift for the night, which is considerably later than usual. You are an escort in a local bar that is quite infamous in the town. You entertain guests—usually lonely old men who seek faux comfort from a pair of gentle hands of a young woman. Sometimes you make a small performance in the local bar like tap-dancing or singing. Sometimes you are just sitting with a customer, listening to their problems, swallowing their drunken confessions.
But nothing sexual has ever happened to you. Sure, you do get invitations to sleep with your customers, but you always refuse it—it is just a personal choice, really. And you do not like to kiss and make out with a drunkard anyway. The furthest that has ever happened was when a middle-aged man slept on your lap after dunking three bottles of beer into his system and you had to let him suckle on your hand. Old people do have the wildest fetishes, sometimes.
Besides, the other senior escorts advised you to not get too sexual with the customers either—so you can keep selling the idea of how unapproachable you are. So, they can keep coming and coming, just to see you and to indulge in their fantasy of having a chance to dip into your pants.
You are not opposed to the idea of sex—the feeling of being desired has long been brewing in you. But you are already fine with the attention these customers give you, no matter how perverted and dark the true nature of their intentions.
Attention feels nice.
But too much attention makes one feel like killing themselves.
You walk at a slow pace. The snow is piling up, covering the pavement and the road with a thin blanket of white particles on the earth's surface. The wind feels drier as ever, colder. But it is not so strong that it blocks your sight. It is dark. The sky is covered with a veil of navy blue, with dots of faint sparkles scattered over it. The road lacks any sight of humans, though it is not even late. But the emptiness is purely because of how dull it is for a small town—well, what is to be expected from a suburban area?
You are too used to loneliness. It is the back of your hand. You are accustomed to such environments—where your personal space is never barged, never wanted. Which is why, you are too aware of the asynchronous slow footsteps behind you.
You glance at the reflection of the windows on each car you pass by. It is hard to see properly, but there is indeed a dark figure—taller, bigger—five feet away from your back.
Must be going in the same direction...
That's what you want to think.
You keep walking and keep your calm. Panic will only get you to nowhere. Best to not provoke anyone—especially in this suburban area. The bus stop is just fifty metres ahead. The road lights are flickering. You are almost there. Your blue heels clack on the pavement as you fasten your steps.
However,
Your body is swooped back harshly and you are about to scream before a strong arm wraps around your body and a big hand covers your mouth with a weird-smelling white cloth. Your scream is muffled beneath the napkin as you struggle against the man.
But his hold on you is obviously stronger.
“Shut your mouth.” He says as he drags you to the other side of the road, forcing your feet to follow his wide strides. You harden your legs, to make it harder for him to drag you but the substance you have been inhaling makes your vision worse. The orange lights are spiralling, the sky is falling, and the stars are crumbling.
“Mmmh!” You groan one last time as loud as you can as your head is dizzying away into a maze of incoherent thoughts. You grip your kidnapper's arm tightly as your eyes are threatening to close. And once your consciousness gives up on staying with you, you only feel your weak body being tossed onto a rough surface.
The last thing you see is a sight of tall pale man, with his hair as white as the snow falling from the night winter sky.
—
“What?! So soon?”
“Quit screaming in my ear, you dipshit.” Nikolai sighs as he leans back to his car seat. He taps the ashes of his cigarette out of the window before placing it between his lips again. He glances at the young woman who is unconscious right beside him—you.
"Dude, I gave that work last night and you got the girl... not even 24 hours later!”
Nikolai snorts. “Well, what can I say? I'm too good at this.” He says before he huffs the smoke from his cigarette. “Besides, this girl lives in a small town. It's not hard to figure out where she is and what she does.” Nikolai adds before he throws the cigarette out.
“Alright, no need for cockiness. But you hafta keep the girl with you for a while.”
Nikolai's jaw hangs. “What? Why? I got the girl. Why can't we just give her to those loan sharks and move on? I need money.” He protests. He hears his friend sigh loudly and Nikolai could practically see the rolling eyes of annoyance.
“I'm not saying that you'd keep her for a long fucking while. I need to consult with the loansharks again so we can arrange a meeting to give the girl to them and get our payment.”
“You’re so horrible at managing, I swear to God,” Nikolai grunts. His friend laughs and it irks Nikolai for some reason—he knows a mockery when he hears one. “Stop laughing, Viktor Pavlovsky. I'll kick your ass for forcing me to take care of a child.”
“Oh, heavens, my brother Kolyushka! She's not even a child! Just make sure she doesn't die!”
“I am not a babysitter, Viktor...”
“Alright, bye, lovely! I'm gonna do my part to satisfy our clients too, m'kay?”
Nikolai does not even get a chance to curse out Viktor before the man ends the call. Irritated, he tosses the phone to the cup holder in front of him. Nikolai glances at his side—you are still sleeping, or passed out, so quietly, so peacefully.
He seizes your jaw roughly, shaking your head—but you remain asleep, limp. Nikolai sighs. The substance must be too strong for you and he does admit that he did press the napkin too hard on your mouth and nose. Well, it's better to have you unconscious instead. Who knows if you dare enough to put up a fight? He does not mind killing you if you are being such a big problem, but you are the starshine of this whole ordeal.
Yesterday, Nikolai received word from Viktor about a new job. He had to kidnap a girl, needed as a hostage for a group of dangerous loan sharks. Apparently, your father is too deep in debt with those loansharks and he is having a very hard time paying back. The man keeps evading and running away, dragging you along with him.
Nikolai already knows some stuff about you. You are working in a bar as an escort, which explains your current clothes right now—a baby blue dress, white stockings, blue heels and a white cardigan. You do look adorable—Nikolai knows that many men in the bar you worked at would really love to have you on their bed.
Hells, if you are not a target, perhaps Nikolai would flirt with you as well.
But now you are asleep soundly in his car and he has to keep you with him because he is just too good at his job.
Nikolai sighs again before he leans towards you, taking the seatbelt to buckle you up. Then he yanks one of the ribbons on your hair, causing your head to tilt as well. He uses the ribbon to tie your wrists together, as tight as possible that the ribbon practically digs into your skin.
“Now, how do I 'take care' of this girl...” He murmurs as he holds the steering wheel, beginning to drive off the place. Nikolai is thinking hard. Should he get you to his humble apartment? Should he just drop you at Viktor's place? Should he ditch you somewhere he only knows and he will come and take you shall his clients finally need you?
But since this is a kidnapping, he should not let you be in the public's eyes. Especially your father. The whole point of kidnapping you is to keep you as a hostage, not a guest.
Nikolai is about to turn his car in the direction going to Viktor's place, but he remembers that Viktor lives with his girlfriend. He knows how possessive can Viktor's girlfriend be—Nikolai has heard enough stories from Viktor about how his girlfriend hit other people just because of her own jealousy.
And the last thing Nikolai wants is to have you tainted with bruises or dirt. You must remain flawless for the loansharks once they retrieve you in the future. He aims to get the most money out of this job—he is already desperate for them.
Reluctantly, Nikolai drives his way to his apartment complex—a worn-out building containing house units. It is an old building that constantly gets renovations and repairments just to keep it functioning for people to live. It is basically for the lower class to live.
He parks his car by the building and gets out. He gets to your side and unbuckles your seatbelt. Nikolai sighs, scratching his neck as he contemplates how to get you inside without raising suspicion. He knows that there are security cameras planted in the corridor for each floor. He doubts the owner of the building pays that much attention though since Nikolai had gone back home with a bloody shirt before and nothing was reported.
But at least he needs to be careful.
Nikolai takes off his jacket and drapes it over your body—or to be exact, your tied wrists. He then gently carries your body in his arms, kicking the car door close. He brings you inside the building and gets to his designated floor by the stairs—the elevator is barely functioning well anyway.
Nikolai gets to the sixth floor and walks to his unit quickly. He realizes he needs to get his keys from his pocket. Grunting in dissatisfaction, Nikolai lets down your legs, so you are leaning against his body instead. That way, he could hold your limp body while opening the door with one hand.
He wraps his arm around your body, pressing your body closer to him while he unlocks the door to his unit. Once he gets it, Nikolai practically drags you easily into the house, slamming the door close before unlocking it. He drags your limp body before tossing you onto the old couch.
“Fucking wake up already... Why do I need to babysit this girl?” He sighs loudly before he gets to you, taking off your heels and taking away his jacket from your body. He stares at your unconscious figure for a moment—leering his darkened gaze over your curves.
Nikolai swallows nervously—something stirs in his chest but he decides to ignore it. He proceeds to carry you again to his unkempt bed and once again tosses you onto the uncomfortable mattress. He takes a rope beneath the bed and ties your legs together before making a tight knot to the footboard railing, just so you cannot escape easily once you wake up.
“Alright, now what?” He asks himself as he looks at you again—tied and asleep, on his bed. He does not want to stay close to you, let alone sleep in the same space. Knowing he has little to no choice, Nikolai pathetically walks out—there is no door to his bedroom and he actually does not know where the fuck it is because it has always been that way since he lived here.
So he settles himself on the sagging couch. Nikolai places his arm over his eyes, shutting them close. The clock is ticking, approaching the deadest of the night. And after the trouble he went through today, Nikolai succumbs to his exhaustion—sleep.
But it is hard to fall asleep in this horrible condition he has to live with.
Nikolai stares at the ceiling—the dried paint is peeling off. The ceiling fan is creaking whenever it finishes a circle. Some unknown wires are hanging from the lamp. The fabric of the cushion beneath him is no longer soft and aromatic. He is basically lying on a piece of future garbage.
Despite the miserable fate that has fallen upon him, Nikolai feels quite nostalgic about it. Somehow, this poor condition reminds him of his childhood—or the oldest memories of his past. He was lucky to have a taste of luxury and comfort when he reached the age of twenty—but it was not for long.
After the incident in that prison, he decided to disappear—his mind wandered into a whole tangled mess of confusion and lost. His best friend was just killed. He was supposed to feel liberated, happy, relieved—but instead, he found himself cornered into the dark, again.
You wanted to kill him, didn't you?
Yes, I did.
Err... I didn't...
No... I did.
Remembering that piece of the past feels as if God mocks him.
When he was finally so far away from the scene of the crime—after two years, he almost threw up when the truth was dispensed right in front of his eyes. The sight of his friend being alive and well standing right in front of him after he lamented over that friend's horrible death and his horrible freedom.
You tried to kill me. I'd like to return the favour.
Lovely.
Nikolai should have expected that the Fyodor Dostoyevsky would not be direct when it comes to tormenting.
He did not expect that a whole squadron would besiege him, in an attempt to arrest him. Nikolai knew he could have run away but perhaps the shock of seeing Fyodor got into his head. He felt like he was not real—as if he was watching his body living by itself, without his own mind controlling himself.
For a long while he felt unreal—and he snapped out of it during his second day in prison.
And that was when he realized—he was too doomed.
For six years, he spent his days in prison with whack-ass jackasses. It was fun. Prisoners feared him somehow. But when he almost entered his seventh year in prison, he was released from prison—no parole, no bail. It was weird—as if something, someone, had interfered with the laws in order to get them to be on his side.
Nikolai still does not know who and how, but once again, he became a free man.
Except, he was bombarded with countless misfortunes.
His house, his documents, his treasures, money, relationships, people—everything.
He was arrested with his overcoat, and he got out with it. That is the only thing he still keeps—the only piece of himself that stays since years and years ago.
Nikolai was already on the verge of giving his life up, but he kept going anyway—another determination was brewing and is still going. He wants to find Dostoyevsky and return the favour to him—after all, that man caused Nikolai to get arrested and lose everything.
After all I did for your plans...
Bit by bit, Nikolai is attempting to climb again—he committed paid crimes. He admires those who are in the light of justice, but he is more intrigued with those who are lurking in the shadow of evil—so that is the path he decided to walk on. He knows his way to find people who want to commit injustice but do not have the balls to do so. The pay is always good—he manages to get a humble house for himself and a car within three months. But money is not always static. The money he gets from his crimes is always shared with Viktor, bills, rent and himself.
He needs to be strategic with finance. One wrong move, Fyodor could get him into the deepest hell of poverty. He is already saving money for his trip to St. Petersburg—the first place he wants to go as he believes Fyodor might be there. Nikolai's passport is also seized and Viktor has confirmed to him that he is blacklisted from even applying for one.
But Nikolai believes he can still go through with this vengeance. After this kidnapping is done and you are finally taken by the loansharks, he will get to other jobs and the cycle will repeat, until he can get to St. Petersburg comfortably.
And once he sees Fyodor again, no amount of guilt shall cage his heart—he hopes.
—
Nikolai squirms and groans hoarsely. The couch is hella uncomfortable and it feels like his back was stomped by a crowd of people. He gets up and stretches, yawning while he is at it. He looks at the clock—it is already ten in the morning. He takes out his phone, checking whether there is a new message from Viktor regarding the job. There is one—Viktor just said he will come to Nikolai's place and figure things out together. Somehow he also mentioned that he was excited to meet the kidnapped girl.
And it concerns Nikolai. He does not want Viktor to have his hands on you. Viktor is trustworthy... but only that much. He is not a nice guy to be around—but well, when Nikolai thinks again, he is not a good person to be around too.
Nikolai replies shortly to the message before he gets to his bedroom. He is nervous for some reason but he swallows it as he approaches the room. He enters.
“Oh, shit!”
Nikolai flinches when he sees you are already awake and sitting up straight on the bed, hugging your knees together. Your baby blue appearance made you look like a ghost in this dull house—like a white flower in the middle of an abandoned building.
“Hello...”
What?
Nikolai blinks confusedly. Why are you not thrashing around and struggling and spouting curses at him? He was pretty sure that you saw him when he kidnapped you last night. He frowns—is this a trick? Well, if that is the case, Nikolai is the wrong person you are trying to trick for sure.
“Do you realize the situation you are in right now?” Nikolai interrogates you as he approaches you, grabbing your tied wrists. You flinch at his roughness and yet you are not backing away. Your wrists already have a thin line of bruise due to the tight ribbon. One wrong twist and it makes you wince in pain.
“I asked you a question, girl.”
“M-My name is—”
“I already know your name.”
“Oh...”
Nikolai sighs. “Hey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.” He says harshly as he points his finger at you, nudging your head hard. You turn away, using your hands to shield yourself from his assaulting finger on your head.
“I-I didn't mean it...” You say slowly.
“Hey, hey, don't look away,” Nikolai says before he grabs your jaw, turning your head to face him roughly. “You're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.”
“O-Oh, I'm not staying...?” You ask, almost like a whisper. Nikolai raises his eyebrow—this girl is weird. He shakes your head roughly again.
“Of course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?”
“I-I thought—”
“Well, clearly you don't think smart enough.” He shoves your head away before he stands straight. You whine, rubbing your jaw with the back of your hands—it is hard to move when your ankles and wrists are being tied like this.
“Is it... because of my father?”
“Smart girl! So you can think after all!” Nikolai claps his hands with his mocking voice echoing in the room. “Why, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.”
“I don't think this... will work to get to my father though...”
Nikolai shrugs his shoulder. “Okay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.” He says. He looks at you, noticing the strange stare you are giving him. Nikolai narrows his eyes, baffled by the calmness you are projecting—he wants to think that you are just trying to be brave, but this silence, this obedience, this calmness... They throw him off.
“Can I go to the toilet?” You suddenly ask.
“What a good girl, huh? Asking permission to go shit.”
“D-Don't say nasty things like that.”
“And who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?” Nikolai grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. Then he grabs one of your ankles, gripping it hard. “Don't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.” He says. You nod slowly before your eyes waver to your legs, to him and then your tied wrists.
You bring your tied wrists towards him, quietly asking him to untie them. Nikolai looks at you and then your wrists. He internally sighs before he unties the ribbon that is binding you. You wince when you are finally free. Your hands have a ring of darker shade and it stings when you rub it—your hands feel numb and your joints are straining as you try to move your arms.
Before you could even make a stretch to warm up your body, Nikolai yanks your arm, pulling you out of the bed. His grip is strong and hard and he easily drags you out of the bedroom and to the small bathroom located just by the kitchen.
He pushes the door open and then shoves you into the bathroom—small and just enough for one person to occupy it comfortably. Nikolai knows you won't escape easily—his unit is on the sixth floor and even if you could make your body small enough to slip out from the window in the bathroom, you would not know your way out.
“Make it quick.” He says before he pulls the door to close it. However, your hand holds it right before the door connects to the frame. Nikolai turns to you, seeing your adorable eyes staring back at him between the gap.
“T-Thank you for... letting me sleep on your bed... It was the most comfortable sleep I've ever had.”
And you close the door yourself, locking it.
Nikolai is stunned.
Did you just thank him? For letting you sleep on his bed?
He leans right beside the bathroom door, gazing at the worn-out ceiling. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips. He knows something is wrong with this girl he just kidnapped.
He feels like something is going to happen to him too. Nikolai huffs and gets his phone quickly, messaging Viktor so he will come and figure out what to do with you. Especially when you just said that 'this' would not work with your father—whatever that means.
Synopsis : Fyodor is fascinated by the smell his baby, he can't take his eyes off his baby and you.
Art by me, repost only with credit!
"I never had any ideas if baby smell would be so fine. Like, they can make people around them calm." As he said that and slowly caressing his baby with his finger. Fyodor was amazed by the miracle before his eyes, he was even a little doubtful that caressing with his finger would be safe.
A small miracle that arrived in both of your lives, an holy angel without even a speck of blemish. It was something that he wasn't see often, considering how his life was going, only full of revenge, violence, and even the loss of many lives. But this time, he seems helpless in front of a little life that depends on him and you. Thanks for you to protecting this little angel for 9 months also for fighting for the delivery process.
It's been a week since you came home, Fyodor always ready to helping for you and your baby's needs.
"Look, she held my finger. With this tiny palm, blushes in red. So fragile, but her grip really tight." He chuckled.
"Papa here, you'll be fine." he said again, while rubbing the tip of his nose against the tiny hand.
You are still in bedrest, even occasionally your husband will help you to move. Like taking a small walk and sunbathing together with the baby. For your health after giving birth.
Once a time the baby start taste her tongue, looking for something she should consume. But when she didn't find what she was looking for, she took a deep breath and started whining.
"Uh-oh.. someone is about starving again." Fyodor was a little worried when the little baby started whining, then start to cry loudly. You just chuckled.
"Come here." You offered to hold her, holding her gently. Hearing the sound of your heart and your unique scent made her crying slowly subside.
"I only confused right now, between I want to be like you or like our baby." Fyodor chuckled. He cant stand seeing his wife and his baby, he always want to around them.
"Hugging by you is always calming, right? Can I have that too? Should I be crying and then getting hug by you?" Fyodor asked teasingly.
You only hissing to him then started to give the baby your breast milk. She slowly consume it and started to be more calmed. Fyodor only let out a sigh seeing you two. A few moments later, he spoke again. His tone was more serious this time.
"Thank you, milaya. Without you, maybe I wouldn't be able to feel very peaceful in this life."
You smiled and look at him. Then patted his head and start to caressing it slowly.
"So, May I be next after our baby is finished and full?" He still teasing you.
