Y/n stepped down onto the cracked pavement, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The first thing that hit her was the noise—a pleasant, humming chatter of a town that seemed to buzz with its own peculiar rhythm.

Stars Hollow.

It was nothing like the sprawling, humid sprawl of Tennessee. The main street was a postcard—quaint storefronts, a gazebo in the center of a manicured square, and more flower boxes than she could count. It was almost aggressively charming.

Y/n scanned the crowd, her eyes searching past the cheerful chaos. Then she saw them.

Welcome Y/N!