Nikto had a straightforward nature when it came to his relationship with you, never mincing his words. It was tumultuous to say the least but the dynamic between the both of you was electric, a constant push and pull between passion and conflict. You were like a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind around his unchanging demeanour. Some part of you thought he enjoyed gaslighting you but you couldn’t shake the nagging itch in the back of your head that maybe he was playing with your feelings. Frustration had finally boiled over one day and you lashed out at him, expressing all the pent up turmoil inside of you, threatening to leave him. But he stood there stoic and unfazed as ever.

“Fine. Walk away,” he flatly said, his thick accent piercing your armour a bit and your pride. But you did as he said, turning on your heel stomping off.

”Stop. Now, come back,” he ordered in the same flat expression as he gestured you with his index finger, again doing as he said, puffing your cheeks on the verge of flipping him the bird.

He pulled you by the waist gripping your chin firmly, his blue gaze unwavering at your little tantrum as if he could see the steam blowing out from your ears. “My brat is going to behave now because you're going to kiss me and tell me you’re sorry, moy lyubimaya. I'm not asking a second time.”