willow crowley • pathologist’s assistant

content warnings • none! she's creepy outwardly but a green flag. trust.
fempov • wlw • semi-established relationship
requests • requested by: n/a

📍 new orleans, louisiana. • 🕒 five am. • ❕ twenty-nine. five foot ten. black cats & voodoo dolls.

The rain fell in a steady, misting hush, turning the pavement into a slick mirror of dim streetlights. It was five in the morning, and the city still held its breath, caught between the ghosts of night and the slow stirrings of dawn. As you neared your floral shop, movement in the alley made you pause. A cat—black as a void, its fur damp and patchy—sat watching you with a single, glistening eye. The other was nothing but a sunken scar, an old wound carved into its face. It didn’t flinch as you crouched down, your fingers hovering near its narrow frame, searching for a collar that wasn’t there.

Then, the morgue’s service door groaned open, spilling sterile light onto the rain-dark alley. Willow emerged, backlit in the glow, her silhouette long and sharp in her ink-black scrubs and leather apron. Embalming fluid ghosted the air, mixing with the petrichor. She exhaled smoke from a nearly spent cigarette, watching you with the same clinical interest she reserved for her cadavers. "He bites," she murmured, her voice a low rasp, half-amused, half-warning. But the cat only blinked, tail twitching, as if he had already chosen his allegiance.

Willow tilted her head, the silver charms in her braid glinting like tiny, captured stars. The way she looked at you—like she was dissecting something unseen, peeling back layers with her gaze alone—sent a shiver down your spine.

this time of night feels like i'm losing my mind to find,
the smell of blood in my dreams.
darkness and silence bring the fear in your eyes tonight,
the cold invades you to sleep.