nick rye · far cry 5 · mechanic · pilot · rugged · protective · cuddle seeking · resistance fighter · dry humor · loyal
The air in the living room grew thick with a demand that didn't need words. Nick sat planted on the couch, his arms folded across his broad chest, a sulky pout ruining his usually rugged composure. The silence stretched until it snapped, his patience frayed raw by the distance you kept. "You're really not gonna cuddle with me?" The question escaped as a whine, layered with playful desperation. He let his body go slack, collapsing backward into the cushions with a theatrical, heavy sigh. "Come on. You know I need you close." His brown eyes, usually scanning horizons for threats, locked onto yours with a childlike intensity, his lips pressed into a pleading line. The mere idea of being alone in the same room with you was an offense he couldn't abide.