A/N; So. This is a gift fic for one of my amazing author friend's birthday on AO3. This will be posted in tandem, but I'm still deciding if I will keep it on FFN. I've been warned about posting explicit content, and this is what this story is going to have later. I will probably post the first two chapters on here, then the rest on AO3 for anyone interested in continuing this story!

For Endless Summer Week 2020, I'm going to say this can loosely be for the Day Three prompt: Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler, mostly because it's so dramatic if for no other reason.

Happy reading! As always, all love, hate, comments, ideas are welcomed and adored.

Sky Blue Daydreams

I.

What an asshole.

Tifa rereads the email, trying to calm her wild burst of anger. One more time, she thinks. One more time, and she'll be fine.

Ms. Lockhart,

Due to the importance and gravity of Shinra Inc. becoming partners with SOLDIER CORP. I cannot stress enough that we, as a company, as a unit, and as a whole, strive for perfection.

You have received this position in the company because you have shown outstanding attributes in your field, a dedicated work ethic, and the passion for greatness that we promote and endeavor to uphold at SOLIDER CORP.

This is why I must tell you that I cannot accept the portfolio you've created for this partnership. It lacks the passion and perfection you had once been consistent with sharing. It is substandard, and it does not and will not benefit us in the next step of our partnering process.

This is the second mediocre showing from you. One more failure, and you will be demoted. You are henceforth removed from this project and will now be in charge of our Midgar Specialties account, as I believe its lower standards and lack of creativity match your own.

Regards,

Cloud Strife

Chief Executive Officer

SOLDIER CORP

Tifa stares at it, waiting for her heart to calm down and her blood to cool. She waits and waits. She tries to unfocus her mind.

Her heart doesn't calm. Her blood doesn't cool. She can't unfocus. Her entire body trembles with a built up possession of anger. She bites the inside of her cheek until she can't stand it. She viciously opens a blank word document, her fingers smashing against the keys in a fit of unadulterated rage.

Mr. Strife,

Due to your lack of respect, complete and utter condescension, demeaning and degrading series of emails, and inability to personally discuss my inadequacies and your dislikes of my artistic avenues for the company, I would like to put in my two weeks notice and resign my position.

My worth may be substandard in your prideful opinion, but I have been employed at this company for five years without one mention of lack of creativity, dispassionate showings, or disharmony between my personal branding style and that of the company as a whole.

Before you became CEO, I was essential to the building brand of SOLDIER CORP. I was leader of the team who skyrocketed the company to its height of monopoly. I was here when there were twenty employees. I have been part of its foundation.

I realize I do not need to explain or describe my resume to you, as you know exactly what I've done for this company. It grieves me to say that this is no longer the company that began from nothing. It is a conglomerate monster that will only grow more fiendish with the addition of Shinra Inc. It has and will continue to lose sight of its mission and its goal. It will grow into its greed, and so will you.

I will not grieve leaving my position. Anyone with a modicum of independence, intelligence, and level of self-worth would never demean themselves to work for an employer who can only see the art without considering the history of the artist.

Sincerely,

Tifa Lockhart

Senior Executive Marketing Specialist

SOLDIER CORP

Tifa puffs out a breath. Typing out her fake responding email helps some, but it doesn't help enough. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, leaning her elbows on her office desk. After a minute, she collects herself, then grabs her cell phone and calls the first number on her speed dial.

"Kisaragi and Co, this is Yuffie."

"Yuffie," Tifa says into her phone, her voice tight and stern. "Please be free for lunch today. Please."

"For you, I think I can manage that. What happened? Another shitty day, already?"

"Yeah. Another shitty day."

"Do we need reinforcements? I can call up Jessie and Aerith, too."

Tifa thinks for just a moment. "Sure. Yeah. Why not."

"The more the merrier." Yuffie scuttles around the other end before she states, "This is because of Mr. Asshole, isn't it."

Tifa sighs. "It's always because of Mr. Asshole."

Yuffie grunts loudly. "Ugh! What is his deal! Why is he such a fucking piece of shit?"

"I don't know," Tifa bemoans. "But thanks, Yuff. See you at Heaven?"

"Fuck yeah, you will."

Tifa hangs up, staring at her word document. The cursor blinks apathetically back at her, kissing the end of her title. Senior Executive Marketing Specialist. It had taken her so long to get here. So many hours, so much heart and soul, so much effort. She'll find another job, elsewhere. It shouldn't be too difficult with her experience. She'll have to find another reference, but she's sure Reeve would be happy to do it.

Still. She stares at her name on the blaring white screen. What had it all been for? She imagined this being her career, staying loyal, continuing to climb the ladder, investing in stocks, potentially divesting into other branches of the company.

And then Cloud Strife became CEO. His vision was nothing but shrewd, pragmatic, and devoid of any significant emotion. All business, no indulgence. A hard ass, through and through.

The most devastating thing is how young he is. At twenty-seven, he's somehow become one of the top tiered executives in the Eastern Continent. If Tifa helped catapult SOLDIER CORP to its height of renown, Cloud Strife sent it up into the galaxy.

He started small, too, like she did. He was nothing but a grunt worker, yet he traversed his way into administrative offices and management. His mind was severely inclined for business. He knew what he had to do to get the company filthy rich, so that's what he did. No one can get there without stepping on people, making enemies, or being cutthroat. For him, he was the epitome of never mixing business with pleasure. It was only business, personal emotions be damned.

She grabs her mouse and moves it to the top right corner of the document. She clicks it to close, and the prompt pops up on the screen.

Would she like to save it? She pushes the air out of her mouth through pursed lips. No. Why would she? It wasn't like she was going to send it, anyway. It wasn't even that cathartic.

When she moves her mouse over the No, something pulls in her stomach. It was a passionate outburst that created it. Why not just keep it to look back on when she's far away from this office in another job that she's in love with? It could be like a piece of her journal. In a few years, she'll look back at it and laugh and wonder why it made her so mad in the first place.

She flicks her mouse over the Yes and clicks. She saves it in her documents, then she busies herself with more tedious pursuits until lunch.

"He did not!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"He sent that to you?"

"Who the hell uses the word henceforth?"

If there's one thing Tifa can count on, it's her girlfriends' undying support. She always feels better after venting with them, and they hold her up like a trophy on a pedestal. She doesn't deserve them, but she's so happy she has them.

Yuffie, for her part, curses up a storm. "Fucking Leviathan. Substandard? How far is his head up his ass?"

"Far enough he's probably inhaling his own shit," says Aerith. She's usually sweet and compassionate for everyone. But get on her bad side, and she'll rip you a new one. Tifa grins at her statement, resting her head against Aerith's shoulder. Aerith curls an arm around her waist. "You're too good for that shitbag."

"He's definitely a hard ass. And a shitbag. And he's definitely someone you don't deserve to work for...but goddamn it, why does he have to be so hot?" That's Jessie. She is always the voice of flirtation and occasionally reason. Sometimes, she's the voice of deviousness, and if you put them all in a room for any length of time, plans, plots, and schemes are usually created—and Tifa ends up going along with them.

Jessie holds up her phone. She had Moogled him, and an image of Cloud Strife graces her phone's screen.

Tifa hates admitting it, because it isn't relevant to this situation, but he is handsome. Having a pretty face only helps with his business sales. It doesn't help with anything else. He has as much charm as a plastic bag.

Yuffie and Aerith groan in tandem.

"Why is it always the good-looking ones?" Aerith huffs.

"Okay, I didn't realize he had baby blue eyes," Yuffie mulls before narrowing her eyes. "Hm. No. He looks like he's twelve, and that's unsettling."

Tifa snorts. "He doesn't look twelve."

"No, he doesn't look twelve. But if he fucks like he runs a business, he'd fuck hard and efficiently and...ugh," Jessie says, her tone dipping into the dreamy, fantasizing tone it makes when males are mentioned.

Tifa internally disagrees. He'd have mechanical sex. It would only benefit him, because he doesn't care about anyone else's needs but his own.

Aerith grabs at her phone, taking it and scrutinizing.

"What's up with his hair, though? Does he use gel to make it stick up like that?"

"No one knows," Tifa says, trying to avoid looking at the picture. She doesn't like him. She hates him. He's made her feel so inadequate even though she knows she isn't. She's capable and independent and strong. "There's a rumor he was electrocuted, and it turned him into a business guru genius."

Yuffie snorts and so does Aerith. Jessie places her chin in her hand and smiles.

"That's a very silly rumor," Aerith says.

"Maybe he was experimented on in a test tube," Yuffie states, taking a large swig of her tea.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd electrocute you in bed," Jessie drawls, smiling lasciviously, and plucking her phone back from Aerith. Tifa smacks her in the arm, but she laughs.

"I highly doubt he'd electrocute," Tifa says. "He'd probably kill you from sheer boredom."

Jessie snickers. "Oh, that would be such a tragedy. I mean, look! Look what he looks like in a business suit!"

She waves her phone around with another picture. Instead of just his face, it holds a full frontal of him with a tie, suit jacket, and crisply pressed slacks. Tifa grimaces. Aerith sighs. Yuffie pretends to retch.

"Hot or not, he's the worst boss in the history of the world," Yuffie says.

"The only other person I know to look that good in a suit is Zack," Aerith mumbles. "And Zack's phenomenal. But you're right, Yuffie. No one makes Tifa feel this way and gets away with it. I hope he feels all this bad energy blasted at him over the next few days."

Tifa smiles against her.

Jessie groans. "Yeah. You're all right. It's just so sad to me." She pauses. "Hey, but instead of calling him hard ass, can he call him tight ass? I mean, good grief, he has to go to the gym."

Tifa exclaims. "Jessie!"

"Honestly, he's probably married to gym equipment," Yuffie criticizes, rolling her eyes.

"That or his suit," Aerith lightly contributes. She nudges Tifa. "So, what do you think, Teef? Are you going to resign? Or are you going to see if he hits you with a last third strike?"

Tifa sighs. "I don't know. I've been thinking about both options. I…I actually wrote a fake resignation letter after I received his email."

All three girls stare at her. Jessie leans forward. "Tifa, I think I speak for all of us when we say we don't want you to regret anything, but…"

"We all know how much your job means to you," Yuffie continues. "Resigning after everything you've done would be…difficult."

"I hate to suggest this, but have you talked to him one-on-one at all?" Aerith asks. "Email is great for efficient communication, but it gives no room for full freedom of speech, nor is it easy to establish your point. As close-minded as this Strife seems to be, I don't think any email would really open his eyes. Not like it would if you talked to him in person."

Tifa swallows another sigh. Of course, she knows this, and of course, she hasn't. She's been increasingly intimidated by the thought of it. One wrong word, one wrong glance, and he'd fire her on the spot.

At least with the email communication, it gave her a chance to recover and try harder. But even then, her increased efforts still lacked. He still hated everything she sent him. Setting up an appointment and going to his office? He'll look at her, tell her she is as mediocre as her portfolios, and dismiss her without any other argument.

She tells the girls as much. She anticipates their intense and lengthy rebuttal, and they don't disappoint. It's endearing, but it only fills Tifa with half the force she knows they want their words to feel. It's because they don't know Cloud Strife like she does. They haven't heard all of the stories about him. They haven't read the articles in the Midgar 30 under 30. They don't quite understand the ingrained fear that lurks under her skin—even though it's unnecessary and absurd for her to be so afraid of one man, because, just like when looking at her word document earlier that morning, what does it really matter? She'll find another job. She'll find a better one. She'll retain her title, and she'll be so much happier.

"You know what, Aerith?" Tifa says once they fall into a brief lapse of silence. "You're right. I'll schedule an appointment, talk to him, and then formally hand in my two weeks notice."

They all give her sympathetic looks. "Are you sure?" Aerith asks. "It's what you want?"

Tifa shrugs. "Honestly? I don't know. I'll figure it out sooner rather than later, though."

Yuffie taps the counter with her blunt nails. Then, suddenly, she straightens.

"Wait. Hold up. I have an idea."

Tifa knows that look. It's a plotting look, her face taut with the threads of an idea. Jessie tips her head, and Aerith's eyes take on a gleam.

"Yes? What have you got in mind?" Aerith asks, leaning forward on her elbows.

Yuffie's mouth breaks into a deep smirk. "Now, don't shoot this down too quick, Teef, okay?"

Tifa is already preparing herself. She narrows her eyes.

"Okay…"

Jessie grins. "Oh, I can't wait."

"So…" Yuffie says. "Make that appointment with him. Then wear your sexiest office outfit. Like that one with the short striped pencil skirt with the stockings? The stockings that are basically thigh highs so when you cross your legs the skirt rides up and shows them off?"

Tifa already knows there is no way in hell she's doing this.

"Yes, I know what you're talking about…" she answers.

"And wear that silk cami, that dark navy one? It shows so much cleavage. And your matching, pinstriped blazer on top of it. And wear eyeshadow and mascara."

Aerith's smile grows wider by the minute. Jessie is nearly cackling.

"Oh, and wear those moon earrings I gave you!" Aerith inputs, her hands folding into excited fists. "And the necklace that falls into your cleavage!"

"And red lipstick—that deep, garnet red," Jessie says, grinning toothily. "It matches your eyes. He won't be able to look away."

Tifa frozenly smiles at all of them. "You are all insane," she says with a lilted tone.

"Hey, if it's your last day, might as well go out smokin' hot," Yuffie says, waving her arms.

"Make him wish he had called you to his office much earlier to talk with you," Aerith says, her eyes glimmering.

"And then tell him since you're quitting, you two can have really steamy, office hate-sex," Jessie states matter-of-factly. "Because he's so boring, you're really just helping out his future reputation. I mean, what twenty-seven year old CEO wants to be known as a total disappointment in bed?"

Tifa begins laughing. She begins laughing so hard, her shoulders shake. When she looks around at them and none of them join her, her laugher dwindles.

"You guys are…you guys…you're serious?"

They all glance around at each other, the diabolical hive mind setting in.

"Fucking yeah, I'm serious," Yuffie states, pointing at her. "Tifa, you're hot as lava. What better revenge on the dickwad than giving him the biggest, most regrettable blue balls of his life?"

Aerith's smile is bordering wicked intent. "Oh, he will be lusting after you like a wild dog. He'll be utterly crippled."

"Imagine the possibilities. The drama. The intense sexual tension. Can you imagine a stone-faced suit like him losing his fucking mind?" Jessie crows, biting her lip and smirking. There is a devil on her shoulder. Tifa can almost see it hovering over her.

Tifa looks at each of them in turn as they talk. She starts shaking her head. They all nod in contrast, raising their eyebrows at her pointedly.

"There is no way I'm doing this," Tifa states, tone dead. "No way. Absolutely no way."

"Oh, it's happening, sweet Tifa," Aerith says, continuing to smile. "You're going to have a meeting, and you're going to sparkle and shine."

"He'll have drool spilling out of his mouth," Yuffie exclaims.

"And you're going to have the best sex of your life," Jessie concludes, high-fiving Aerith beside her.

"Right, because he's actually going to agree to meet with me before firing me. Sure," Tifa says, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "And when he fires me after I request an audience, I'll tell you all I told you so."

"Yeah."

"Uh-huh."

"We'll be eagerly waiting."

When Tifa gets back to her office after lunch, she opens up her word document. Then she opens up her email. She splits the screen between the two of them.

One will be a request. Another will be a demand. She gnaws on her lip and her fingers hover above her keyboard. The request will keep her fate out of her control. The demand will retain it. This is a decision that will denote her character—and she can't regret this in the future. She can't look back on herself for her cowardice in the face of a young, nearly boyish CEO. She would hate herself forever if she allowed it.

She swallows and sighs. She hopes the girls forgive her.

She copies her written resignation email from the word document. She pastes it into the body of her work email beside it. She fills in the To: line with Cloud Strife's email, and the Subject: line with Resignation.

Before she can think any further on it, she clicks Send.

She puffs out a breath, her heart racing marathons. There. She did it. It's over. It's done. She'll be free of this place. She can start researching job opportunities. She can think of different pathways for her creativity. She can be leader of another group of creative individuals. She can—

Her email chimes with a message. He's responded—already? Her heart beats so quickly, it feels like a hummingbird trapped in her chest.

Her palm immediately begins to sweat. It slips on the mouse, but she moves the cursor and hovers over his reply. She waits for three more seconds before she opens it.

Ms. Lockhart,

Before I entertain your concerns and your askance for resignation, please allow for a scheduled meeting between us.

Arrive at my office tomorrow morning at 9 am. We will discuss your future with this company and the potential of your future without it, if that is your wish.

Cloud Strife

Chief Executive Officer

SOLDIER CORP

Tifa blinks at it. She reads it consecutively five times before she reads it five times more. Blood heats up her cheeks, and her ears feel like they're two steaming teapots.

Three sentences. Three tiny little sentences.

It feels like a mere brush off. He can't even respect her quitting without having the last word. After all this time, now he wants to speak with her? Now?

Tifa sits in her office chair, and her mind swirls. Bricks and bricks of layered anger fill her up, and her rage feels like a sentinel, protecting her from anxiety and nerves and hell, even Cloud Strife. For the first time since he ascended to the throne, she no longer cares about his power.

She stares at his signature. Her friends' words sizzle into her brain like poison bait.

What better revenge on the dickwad than giving him the biggest, most regrettable blue balls of his life?

He will be lusting after you like a wild dog.

What twenty-seven year old CEO wants to be known as a total disappointment in bed?

A slow smile, as devious as all of her girlfriends' combined, snakes its way onto her face. The plan settles against her mind like the borders of a puzzle, complete and succinct and perfect.

She knows exactly what she's going to do. She'll show him.

She'll make him wish he never sent those emails in the first place.

A/N; Also this is just a heads up for next chapter for any new readers.

Next chapter will involve the threat of false accusations. This is in no way a glorification NOR is it condoning that this is right in the workplace. Everything in this story is for fun and for dramatic license and to keep the tension going. Trust me when I say that triggering anyone is NEVER my intention.
So with that being said, I hope you readers enjoy the next chapters!