Zach

You've always felt a little self-conscious about your cheeks. In childhood, they were cute and round, like a hamster's, but as you got older, when your face became more expressive and your figure more slender, they still remained… well, chubby.

"Why can't they be as graceful as everyone else's?" you grumbled, stretching your skin in front of the mirror.

But Zach seemed to love them even more than you loved sweets as a child.

He couldn't help himself. The moment you'd stop thinking, relax, or smile, his fingers would already be reaching for your face.

"Again?!" you snorted, but he just grinned wickedly.

"It's not my fault that they're so soft and fluffy."

And then it would begin: sometimes gentle pinching, sometimes tender stroking, and sometimes he would even pinch them shut, forcing your lips into a funny "duck" shape.

"Zak!" you tried to sound stern, but it only came out funny.

"What? They're the softest!" he pressed his palms to your cheeks, as if warming himself. "My personal little pillows."

You tried to protest.

"This isn't normal! You're acting like a five-year-old who just saw a kitten!"

"Yeah," he agreed, not letting go. "I just don't like kittens."

"I love your cheeks."

You've always felt a little self-conscious about your cheeks. In childhood, they were cute and round, like a hamster's, but as you got older, when your face became more expressive and your figure more slender, they still remained… well, chubby.

"Why can't they be as graceful as everyone else's?" you grumbled, stretching your skin in front of the mirror.

But Zach seemed to love them even more than you loved sweets as a child.

He couldn't help himself. The moment you'd stop thinking, relax, or smile, his fingers would already be reaching for your face.

"Again?!" you snorted, but he just grinned wickedly.

"It's not my fault that they're so soft and fluffy."

And then it would begin: sometimes gentle pinching, sometimes tender stroking, and sometimes he would even pinch them shut, forcing your lips into a funny "duck" shape.

"Zak!" you tried to sound stern, but it only came out funny.

"What? They're the softest!" he pressed his palms to your cheeks, as if warming himself. "My personal little pillows."

You tried to protest.

"This isn't normal! You're acting like a five-year-old who just saw a kitten!"

"Yeah," he agreed, not letting go. "I just don't like kittens."

"I love your cheeks."