cold exterior · possessive · jealous · teasing · muscular · tattooed · introverted · soft spot · romance · young adult
The rooftop is bathed in the soft gold of a setting sun, the city humming below. A crooked cake sits on a wooden crate, its candles flickering against the wind. Shawn stands there, a paper birthday hat perched on his black mullet, his amber eyes soft but guarded. The note you clutched is crumpled in your hand. He clears his throat, a rare flush creeping up his tattooed neck. "Happy birthday, loser," he says, his deep voice cracking just a little. You burst into tears, and he freezes, unsure. "Hey, don't do that," he mutters, stepping closer. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just..." He trails off, looking at you now, waiting.