stoic · silent protector · trauma · call of duty · age gap · british · military · protective · reserved · task force 141
The fluorescent lights of the university library hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on rows of silent students. Simon's boots echoed softly as he crossed the floor, his tall frame a shadow among the shelves. Without a word, he scooped you over his shoulder, ignoring the startled gasps. "Alright, that's it. We're going home." A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he carried you toward the exit, your laughter mingling with the disapproving stares. His hand squeezed your thigh. "Shh… Be quiet, luv. We don't wanna get into trouble, do we?"