A/N: This was written for Seventh Heaven 2021 for Day 5: You don't know what you do to me. Rated M for mature themes, and minor sexual content. Enjoy!

tearing you asunder

The hand on her lower back should've been soft.

The thumb should've been stroking her delicately, enticing her to break through her shyness and move forward. The light push from that hand had propelled her to dance in the middle of Town Square – the place where she'd first found a sense of rhythm. When she did look back at him in the midst of a spin, her smile was an open invitation for him to dance with her. He had merely shook his head, though the shy smile on his face betrayed his own wants.

The chance to dance with him was long gone. Around her now, were the bustling voices of drunken patrons and the jingle of a cheesy pop song instead of that country tune from years ago. No one danced, no one cheered. From a distance, a shot glass shattered on the floor.

Standing at table five, her skin crawled. Tifa's lower back was being touched by a patron's slimy hand. She clutched their bill, a happy token for her because it meant they would leave. At any moment, the smile on her face was going to surrender into a glare. As the other three men leered at her breasts, she was tempted to crumple their bill and whip it at their heads.

Of course, as a waitress and amateur bartender, she could not. In recent months, the patrons were to be treated like royalty. All for the sake of a tip, which would contribute to saving Seventh Heaven from being slashed with a vacancy notice. Saving the planet had to come second this time around.

For her, saving Seventh Heaven meant dressing up by wearing less. It meant forcing a flirty smile even when she didn't want to, throwing out suggestive remarks, and playing up the role of the young bartender. But not too young, patrons weren't allowed to know that she had just turned eighteen. (However, she felt like the gross ones did.)

With a wink, she offered them their bill, her voice lifting as she said, "It was a pleasure serving you tonight." She slipped the paper beside the spilt residue of gin. They paid her wink no mind, their eyes stuck to the curves of her body. She thought she'd be used to this by now. Guess not. "I hope you have a great rest of your evening."

The man with the crude touch finally set her free. Her body loosened from the stiffness.

Grabbing his wallet, his hungry stare never left her chest. After pulling out a handful of gil and placing it on top of the bill, he said, "See you later gorgeous."

"Thank you. Please come again." Please don't.

The three men stood up, their chairs scratching the floor. Tifa quickly grabbed the gil, about to count them until she felt a harsh sting, a resounding slap against her ass.

"What the–?" The smile on her face broke. Blood rushed to her brain. When she looked up and saw the culprit – the man who had his hand on her back earlier – he was stumbling out the door laughing with his buddies. Not even sparing her a glance or an opportunity for her to rip him apart.

Sexual harassment came with the job Jessie said, but Tifa refused to accept it.

Tifa hands balled into fists, the gil crumpling with it. Without even counting, she could tell the man barely tipped her. She let him touch her for hell's sake. That entire night she had suppressed all her urges to stomp on his feet.

His gross touch lingered on her lower back. So did the ghost of his hand on her ass. "That bastard," she muttered.

Tifa was getting sick of all this.

Her heels calloused and her toes blistered every night she worked. She'd scrub her skin hard with soap after, to rid the invisible markings of perverted customers. It was becoming too much. The tips weren't reeling in like they were supposed to. And she couldn't yell or make a fuss because any patron that came outside of Sector 7 knew of the bar's situation. They'd take advantage of it until the very end.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. "Don't worry about those idiots."

When she turned around, she saw Jessie's bangs in disarray and saw how she tried to keep her posture straight. Yet, Tifa could tell her was back aching. Jessie even balanced a tray, heavy with shots and chase.

"I know. I'm just getting tired of all this."

"This is what we do to make ends meet for this place. Trust me, I don't like being groped eight million times a night by these assholes. But soon, it'll pay off."

Tifa frowned, grabbing the washcloth from Jessie's waistband. Behind her, Seventh Heaven boomed with loud chatter. Another corny song played off the jukebox while a young man screamed along to it. The stench of booze masked the various colognes and sweat that reeked in the air. The crowd was dotted with females, but overwhelmed by men. She wondered which asshole touched her friend.

"If Biggs or Barret were here right now, they'd surely do something ."

"And make us lose half our spenders? Nah! Don't think we can risk that! Besides – " Jessie leaned into Tifa's ear. "Check out the guy by the bar. The one with the stupid rat tail."

"Hmm?" Tifa turned around as she wiped the table. On the far right side, a man with a lanky frame sat, fingers tapping the counter impatiently, lips pulled into a tight pout. He didn't seem all that special. Just another patron who seemed like he'd yell at them. But as her eyes trailed to his wild spikes that smoothed into a short rope of hair and was tied at the nape of his neck, her heart shuddered. Her hands stopped its meagre task, as if held up by time. "…That hairstyle."

It's familiar.

There was a question she wanted to ask the boy who belonged to Nibelheim's stars. Did they make you cut your hair when they accepted you into SOLDIER? Did they snip away pieces of yourself? Her daydreams were all silly. Imaginary conversations were more fictional than living life topside.

"It looks ridiculous right? I mean, you could call it a short ponytail," Jessie mused. "But there's a reason why I called it a rat tail."

Leathered shoulder pads on his suit jacket glimmered under the yellow light at the bar. The rest of his suit was crisp and clean, fitting him well. The material seemed like it was of good quality. Definitely more than anything Tifa could afford.

A Shinra rat.

What the hell was he doing here?

"Take care of him for me, will ya? Use what I taught you. Empty out his pockets!" Jessie winked at Tifa whilst sticking out her tongue.

"Seriously?"

Tifa attempted to grab Jessie's tray but she sidestepped her easily. "What if I mess up his order? You know I'm not that good with drinks yet! Let me take care of your customers."

"Nuh uh, it's time to put your skills to the test. Flirting skills, mind you. " Jessie then lowered her voice, her playfulness gone. Uneasiness settled into the air between them. "Also, you know how I feel about those bastards."

It wasn't like Tifa didn't feel the same way about Shinra and their Turks. However, Jessie had developed a fresh wound. There were some nights where Tifa would catch the swollenness to her eyes before her shift started. Anytime she asked if she was alright, Jessie would wave her off with a laugh.

Jessie's father had recently become bedridden, stuck in the in-between of life and death. Meanwhile, Tifa's father was long dead. If her wound of losing her father hadn't turned into a scar, she wouldn't know how she'd deal with a Shinra rat.

Tifa relented. "I'll handle the guy then. Don't worry about it."

"Yay! Thanks girlie! I'll clean up the rest of your table after."

Tifa placed her hands on her hips. Letting go of the rag, she sighed, hoping that her disdain for Shinra wouldn't show.

Rat tail was glaring at the counter, chin in hand.

Tifa tucked in a strand behind her ear. First order of business: Look hot. She straightened her back, brushed out the wrinkled parts of her skirt, and began walking over to the bar in a sensual gait. Second order of business: Flirt.

When Tifa was finally in front of him, his wandering gaze steadied onto her. His eyes pierced through her like she was the prey he didn't know he needed.

A smile spread on her lips, hiding how she was taken aback. She leaned over the counter then, discreetly pressing her breasts together with her arms. Folding her hands, her fingers lay inches away from his.

"And what can I get for a good lookin' guy like you?" Tifa mimicked the way his eyes traced her body from the top to the bottom, adding in her own subtle lip bite.

Usually, she was so absent in pretending to check out a customer. But this guy… with his open dress shirt and sharp face, reminded her of a sly fox. She wondered what other kinds of animals he'd be to her.

He chuckled at her inquiry as if it was the most ridiculous thing she could ever ask. Rat tail tilted his chin up, glanced at her sideways, the chuckle still in his mouth as he licked a canine of his teeth. "C'mon cut the bullshit little girl. You don't wanna play with me."

Tifa froze. Heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Ah. Now that's more like it."

Exposed, she tried to create some distance. There had to be some way to retreat. Instead, he caught her wrist, his long, bony fingers ensnaring it as he pulled her closer.

"Look, little girl." His breath was warm on her knuckles. "You've kept me waiting. You gotta make my drink fast or else things ain't gonna look so pretty."

He dropped her wrist.

Tifa backed away, startled. "Uh – yes sir!" She felt so stupid when he smirked at her stutter.

"So what can I get you?" Her mouth twitched, struggling to maintain a smile.

"A moonlight girl on fire."

"What?" She'd never heard of that drink before. Figures, a Shinra Rat would order something so peculiar. And pretentious.

"You heard me, yo."

Tifa tried to recall her training three weeks ago. Barret had drilled a lot of recipes in her head, making Wedge drunk off her passable drinks. Moonlight girl, moonlight girl. Drawing a blank at what that could be, she panicked, looking past Rat tail's shoulder to find Jessie. To her dismay, she was laughing, occupied with a customer around her age.

As she contemplated telling him that his ridiculous sounding drink wasn't on the menu, Rat tail's smirk grew into a full-fledged grin. His fingers drummed along the counter's surface.

It was then that she realized: he was trying to mess with her.

Screw this guy.

The searing embarrassment vanished. The distant rage she felt earlier flowed through her, settling in until it twisted into a shallow need for revenge. If there was someone she was going to take it out on, the Shinra rat was the perfect candidate.

"Coming right up for you sir ."

Tifa bent down behind the counter, practically on her knees as she reached for the Drinks Manual. She was determined to find that recipe and make it for him. Not for his delight, but for her own selfish pride. If the Shinra rat wanted to toy with her like that, she wasn't going to let him.

She flipped past the dusty pages of hand drawn drinks (Finn's lovely work) and Barret's scrawl. With each turn, she found nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"C'mon, I ain't got all night!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled out, keeping her voice airy.

He mumbled something inaudible.

In the corner of the cupboard, she spotted a bottle. Black and matte, unopened. 70% alcohol. This was Barret's 'special' drink. One that could get him tipsy, but with someone with a small body like hers, they'd be knocked out with a shot. The Shinra rat wouldn't stand a chance.

She grasped the neck of the bottle. Her third order of business tonight: Get him drunk.

Coming back up, her hair fell behind her shoulders in a neat curtain. She gave him a coy smile.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Better make it right, babe."

"Anything for you."

She poured the bottle's contents into the shaker. It gleamed a translucent white, like melted sugar. Mixing in a shot of lychee sweetener, Tifa waited for a complaint. When none came, she continued to make the drink, giving it a clumsy shake before pouring it into a glass. A couple of droplets missed the rim, which made him draw in a scoff.

"Here you go." She slid the glass over. It didn't collide or splash everywhere. Smooth sailing for once. "Enjoy."

Rat tail grabbed the drink, observing it for a moment before his face contorted into a glare. "This wasn't what I ordered. She ain't even lit up, yo. Didn't I already warn you not to play with me?"

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she responded:

"What if I want to?"

There was an itch in her fingers. The rush in her body was reminiscent of the first time she punched out a man. His blood had dripped down her knuckles. Tifa wanted to unfurl the Turk's anger so that she could show him what she was truly made of.

"I'm not gonna make you too happy then," he responded, the edge of his mouth curving.

In a blur, he stood up, the stool slammed down behind him. Droplets of white ricocheted off his glass, staining her shirt. Her back arched as she was tugged over the counter, the surface edge digging into her pelvis. Before she knew it, the glass was pressed up hard against her trembling lips – his other hand snaked into her hair, gripping the back of her scalp.

Rat tail's eyes darkened at the sight. The twin scars atop his cheekbones underlined his intentions as he towered over her. In Tifa's ear, his voice was low. "Drink what you made me. Swallow every last drop, and I'll finish with you later."

His grip tightened, and it took everything in Tifa not to moan out.

He began to tip the glass. The milky liquid slipped past the closed seam of her lips. The scent like roses doused in rubbing alcohol. It stringed into the corner, until it trickled down her chin.

Her knees nearly buckled when his tongue swiped his lower lip in a smooth slow glide. Awakening inside of her was an unknown need. For a tongue that could leave her undone, that could make her sputter out nonsense at the height of pleasure. The need for rough hands that could grip her, pry her open to the desires she shamefully thought she didn't deserve.

There would be no point of return. Tifa knew that. She didn't want to like this at all.

In fact, she hated it.

The salacious haze in his stare was almost too unbearable. She could hear her heart pound in her ears. Her breathing, a little hollow. No – she didn't want to give him any satisfaction. Tifa wasn't going to be his damn plaything.

She wanted him to be hers.

Tifa placed one palm over the glass then. The other, over his. Orchestrating it in her mind, she'd chuck the drink at his head. Watch the liquid splash and dribble down his face. Liquor obscuring his sight. She'd throw his scrawny body over the counter. Grab him by his stupid open collar. Then punch him out. Every single hit…punctuating each time she was helpless to a man's unwanted touch.

Her vision blurred, the red of his hair tinged in a halo of light.

Suddenly, his expression softened.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Jessie. "She's underage! Let go of her or I'll kick you out!"

Rat tail yanked the drink out of Tifa's hands and stepped back. A bit of the drink spilled over his fingers. He murmured wistfully, "Aw, we were just having a little fun."

Tifa stood there, arms falling to her sides. Her skin still burned. The liquor on her mouth felt like drool. She wiped it away, knowing that the tension built remained inside her with nowhere else to go.

Jessie's brows were furrowed in worry. "Tifa, take your break."

"N-no, it's fine. I-" Everything seemed blurry. Rat tail wasn't even looking at her anymore. "I'll take care of him."

She realized then that she'd been holding back tears this entire time.

"Tifa…"

Rat tail sat back down on the stool. Waving the drink in their direction. "I'm good. Your bartender girl made my drink perfectly."

Jessie ignored him, turning to Tifa, her whisper urgent, "Please, Tifa. Just take as much time as you need. You deserve a break."

Tifa nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.

She took one final glance at the Turk. A glance that might've willed him to meet her eyes once more. However, he just sat there, sipping on the drink she made him. Expression unreadable. The glass that touched her lips was now on his.

After Tifa walked through the door, she collapsed onto the makeshift couch of crates, feeling heavy. Without making any sound, tears fell, escaping the chokehold of her ego. She flicked them away, confused as to why the rage that had burned so bright inside her wasn't nearly as strong as the heat that crawled downwards.

She thought back to the darkened skies of Nibelheim, the stars that smeared over them. She thought of the boy who encouraged her to dance, but not with him. If only he had danced with her that night, gave way to both of their innocent desires… Perhaps, let her feel her first kiss. Would that have kept her satisfied for all these years?

Tifa placed her fingers on her lips, moistened by that white liquid. She didn't know the answer.

All she could do was cry.

Half an hour passed. The chatter of the bar died down and so did her tears. She looked at herself in the mirror, brushing her hair out. The back of her head was a tangle from when his fingers interlaced with the strands.

Tifa thought it was too nice of Jessie to let her go on a second break. She'd left her all alone in that hostile atmosphere of the bar. Her stomach was in knots as she thought of how vile men could be with their whistling and the jeers, the lecherous stares, and unsolicited comments. Seventh Heaven contained them all in one space, where their harassment wasn't in passing, but almost on the daily. She sincerely hoped Jessie was okay.

Her mind brought her back to the Turk. That Shinra rat. Perhaps, he'd still be sitting there, sipping on the 'moonlight girl on fire'. Or maybe, he'd be plastered. That lustful gaze he held for her would've turn glassy and half lidded. Her initial goal was to empty out his pockets, but guilt eroded the hate she thought she had for him.

The bundle of nerves had to be kept at bay before she went back out on the floor. She took a deep breath, ignoring how bloodshot her eyes appeared in the mirror. She'll pretend that whatever happened between the Shinra rat and her never occurred. The mix of heat he elicited from her –a pure figment of her imagination. One she'd never revisit.

When Tifa stepped out, his stool was barren. There were no signs of the man who'd tainted her. All he left behind was a half empty drink.

She took the glass in her hands, turning it slowly. Small distinct lines webbed the rim in one spot. It was the stain of the pink gloss she wore. As she turned it on the other side, she saw that he had left a mark too. Tifa rubbed off the imprint of his lips. A tiny piece of him on her thumb.

Jessie appeared beside Tifa, placing glasses in the sink. "Tifa," she breathed. "What happened back there? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I'm okay."

Skeptical, Jessie pressed on, "I was going to tell that Shinra bastard off. But when I went up to him, something in me just stopped."

Tifa was surprised, but she joked, "I didn't peg you as a Shinra sympathizer."

"No, no! I'm not. It's just- oh, I don't know." Jessie grabbed something out of her apron. A slim envelope. "I couldn't even get a word out, he just threw me this and said it's for 'the moonlight girl on fire' and I'm not allowed to have it."

Tifa held the envelope, wondering if there was a letter for her in its creases. Though that was impossible. She had wished for letters from her childhood friend, yet they never arrived. She expected disappointment at whatever she wished for. Opening it, her eyes widened at the three bank notes. Her heart nearly dropped when she realized how much gil it was. "3000?! Is this guy crazy? Was he even drunk when he left?"

Jessie shook her head, eyeing the gil with a blend of pride and hesitation. "Maybe he felt some type of way for, uh, y'know what? Nevermind."

She tilted her head, pursing her lips at Jessie's odd behaviour. Maybe it was best not to ponder on it. "I'm going to give most of this to the bar."

"Tifa!"

"I don't care, Shinra can fund us."

"You're too giving. But that doesn't sound like a bad idea."

Jessie went to wash the remainder of the glasses while Tifa cleared the bottles on the bar counter. As the closing minutes ticked, patrons began to shuffle out the door, leaving behind their empty glasses and tips. Chairs weren't tucked in, tables had been shifted from their original spot. The hum from the jukebox was louder and prominent now, playing soft jazz. The industrial chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling seemed eerily still.

"Tifa?"

"Yes."

"That guy back then…"

The bottles in Tifa's hands clinked. "What about him?"

"What drink did you make him?"

"A moonlight girl on fire."

Jessie stopped scrubbing, she laughed. "I'm sure that fake drink was a name for you," she teased.

Tifa thought she was going to collapse at the very idea. A flare of red peeked onto her cheeks. She could've sworn she heard his sardonic voice echo in the recesses of her mind reminding her of the throbbing she felt not too long ago. "No way."

"But hey, you got what you wanted right? A huge tip…"

Licking her lips, she tasted the left over residue of the drink she made the Turk. It was sickly sweet, with undertones of bitterness and floral notes. "Not entirely," she answered, well aware that any remnants of her girlish innocence were gradually eroding, waiting to submerge her until she drowned and became something new.

The soapsuds ran down her arms, bubbles popping with the low-pressure droplets coming from her showerhead. Hot water was a luxury she couldn't afford yet tonight it sent a prickle down her spine, a whisper on her bosom, and a spark to her loins.

This night had been strange. She'd begin to believe that her body betrayed her, made her succumb to feelings she didn't know existed within herself. But something was filling her up to the brim, threatening to spill over, and overtake all her senses. Tifa wondered if it were alright to open up the sewn up seam of her desires. The thread had already loosened. She was scared, more so in losing herself in this. Her fear stemming from entering uncharted territory, her own unexplored flesh. The loss of control.

Tifa closed her tired eyes. Her mind was close to losing to the subconscious. Dreamlike scenes emerged and conquered, bleeding into each other so that they became one. Glistening moonlight, like the alcoholic dew streaming from his fingers, slipping into its grooves. A shy smile from a boy she could love, evolving into a man's haughty smirk ready to devour, no hesitation needed. Another's hands on her body, soft and still before a gentle push, yet it became a demanding pull, a grip, igniting a different kind of dance.

Let go.

She gasped, a rupture to her empty throat.

Hot water licked up her skin. Like a rose, she puckered open alongside her swelling folds. Each petal peeling back her resistance to ecstasy. Lower and lower, her fingers flitted. As she finally embraced the silken folds with light strokes, her mouth opened in soft whimpers, tiny gasps. The stars of Nibelheim appeared before her, the ground not yet burnt to soot. The scent of alcohol and roses made her dizzy. Her pacing between her thighs was shaky, fervent in need.

Her mouth opened, out came a sound that she'd never heard before. A high pitched moan that echoed around her. It was hers only, coming out in constants. Perhaps, this was what he wanted to elicit. He'd like that wouldn't he? She thrust into her hand then, rolling in a rhythm he should've set.

Higher and higher, reaching and reaching. His wild mane, red-hot fire pouring into a tail, his eyes so sly at dipping sin into her purity. Yet, out of every lewd image that wrecked havoc to her mind, it was the tip of his tongue that left her undone. She'll choose him over and over again in her fantasies. She knows that, even though past carnal desires, deep in her heart was the boy whose ponytail was sheared off.

Tifa cried out, unsteady on her feet as her legs trembled and her mind shattered with ecstasy. A spurt of heat spilled over her thighs, reminding her that she could've opened her lips by the slightest back then. Allow him to spill into her mouth, let alcohol burn into her bloodstream, so that it would erase her reluctance and help her choose acceptance.

When all was done and cleansed, she slipped into her bed, the sheets hugging her naked form. Everything that had been pent up inside her was released, her body and mind entered a state of bliss she hadn't been to. In her fading consciousness, she surmised that giving into lust wasn't as scary as she thought. As long as she was given a choice, she'd freely grasp it.

As the night closed in, Tifa's dreams carried her into the moonlight.