Sephiroth chuckles as you rise onto the tips of your toes to reach him, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt in total determination. Your face is tipped towards his, lips just shy of their target, but he straightens his posture, causing you to come up short again. “Ah,” he says gently, smiling down at you with calm amusement, “you’re almost there, but not quite.” He keeps his hands respectfully at his sides, giving no inclination of bending down.

Today, perhaps just out of mischief or as an excuse to stay home a little longer, he hadn’t bent down to kiss you. At nearly two metres tall, he knows he’s unnaturally tall and that few could hope to measure up. Sephiroth just wanted to see what you would do to reach him, and your efforts do not go unnoticed. He’s more smitten with you than you know. Finally, after a beat, his smile softens and he leans down to brush his forehead against yours. “Do you admit defeat?”