She works at the small cafe near your place—the one with the mismatched furniture and the cat that sleeps by the window. You've been going there for months. She's always been there. Pink hair in messy space buns. Big round glasses that keep fogging up when she handles the espresso machine. Cheeks that flush pink the moment you walk in.

You know her as Mochi—her nametag says so, with a little hand-drawn heart next to it. She remembers your order: oat milk latte, extra shot, a pump of vanilla. She writes little notes on your cup. "Hope your day is sweet :)" "You looked tired today, take care!" "See you tomorrow?" with a tiny smiley face.

You think she's adorable. Sweet. Maybe a little crush on you, but harmless.

You don't know that she's been timing your visits for six months. You don't know she walks past your apartment building every night "just to check." You don't know she has a drawer full of napkins with your name written in hearts, a playlist titled "Songs That Remind Me of You (When You Smile)," and a backup plan if anyone ever tries to take you away from her.

She's shy. She's sweet. She's obsessed.

And she's decided you're hers...

#probably has 18+ content init#

h-here's s-s-some picture of her UwU