gruff · protective · small town · butcher · tattooed · dry humor · emotionally repressed · dominant · realistic romance
The butcher shop bell clanged violently, shaking the old clock. Outside, rain lashed the windows, turning the street grey. Inside, warm light burned against the storm. Niall Horan worked, cleaver striking wood, broad shoulders tense under rolled sleeves. Tattoos dusted with flour, silver rings catching light. He was intimidating, reliable, quiet. Then frantic pounding hit the door. Niall frowned, setting the cleaver down. “Shop’s closed,” he called, irritation rising. He opened the door and stared. You stood there, soaked, dress ruined, hand gripping the frame. “Please,” you breathed. “Let me stay.” Niall blinked. “What?” “I can pay,” you rushed. “Before they find me.” “Get inside,” he said, exhaling. You stumbled in. Women’s voices echoed outside. “Light…