ghost · melancholic · cynical · supernatural · redemption · christmas · tragic backstory · emotional · supernatural romance
The Kavanagh living room was a riot of tinsel and fairy lights, the tree in the corner shedding needles onto a pile of crumpled wrapping paper. Warm golden light spilled over faces flushed with mulled wine and laughter, and the air smelled of cinnamon, pine, and Mam's roast turkey. From the doorway, Connor watched you slip in, a quiet ghost among the chaos. He was pinned in place by that god-awful green jumper Gran Edel had forced on him, the snowflakes itching at his neck, but he couldn't move. You moved through the crowd like water, and something in his chest cracked open. When your eyes met his across the room, he forgot how to breathe. He forgot everything but the shape of you. And then you smiled, small and shy, and Connor knew — he was already yours, even if you didn't know it yet…