#vincent valentine x veld

[getvalentined]

So, when I'm finished with Smoke and Mirrors, I'm thinking about finally sitting down and writing out Little Lion Man, aka the alternate universe in which Late is placed. It features Vincent/Veld, Sephiroth Valentine, a non-hateful deconstruction of Vincrecia, a coup d'etat, body horror, slice of life—the whole shebang, basically. It's more involved, and the whole concept is over a decade old, but I think I've got it outlined to a point that it's feasible. It'll take longer than Smoke and Mirrors (which was meant to be a long oneshot and just spiraled out of control) and my biggest concern is that it's very...niche, I guess?

There really aren't a lot of VinVeld shippers out there—I'm one of the first English speakers to have shipped it, one part of a group of three that fell into it at the same time, and the only part of that group that is still active in the fandom. I know for a fact that I posted deviantART's first VinVeld fanart ever, way back in 2005. I gave the ship it's current name, forcibly dragging my friends away from calling it Vineld because why. They're my actual One True Pairing, above all the others. If I had to pick one ship to see really and solidly and undeniably canonized, it wouldn't be Sephesis or Strifentine or Valenstrifesodos—it would be VinVeld.

I'm less active in portraying them in recent years because the people I used to RP and draw and write with are either no longer active in the fandom, no longer in my life, or both. And that's the biggest issue: I don't do exceptionally well without feedback because have The Ancestral Curse, and this whole concept is so niche that I worry I'd just leave it unfinished forever, like every other FF7 longfic I've ever started.

It's...probably my favorite canon divergent AU that I've ever played in. I'd really like to share it with the world rather than keeping it relegated to snippets and random doodles, but I don't know. Would anyone actually read it?

[little-black-dress-zack-fair]

Vincent: Veld, can I talk to you for a second?

Veld: Yeah, what’s up? Lemme guess. You and Lucrecia are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss?

Vincent: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

[moostelid]

FFVII prompt:

Veld was always told Turk partners are like a marriage contract: til death do us part, in sickness and health.

Vincent was Veld’s partner. Vincent has been MIA for twenty years, assumed dead.

While looking into another case, Veld comes across one of Hojo’s notes about Vincent.

Veld decides wasn’t ready for a divorce, even if he has to drag Vincent back kicking and screaming, with Chaos (and all three other demons) as his witness.

Vincent’s headmates are more than happy to kick back and be a witness to the hilarity that ensues.

[t0yearnf0r]

What am I gonna have to pay square enix for them to put a Vincent and Veld interaction in the next remake game

[burnyourpagoda]

If you haven't played or seen Becore Crisis yet, this kind soul uploaded it to Youtube just over at yonder link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLE75858F7C5A3927D

[applesfrombanora]

FFVII Rarepair Week Day 7: Stories

Rating: Everyone Teen and Up

Pairing: Vincent Valentine/Veld

Summary: "It's been three years since the beast in the woods took the life of Vincent, and Veld has been haunted by it each and every night since."

Thought I'd pitch in for some VinVeld content since the week calls for it :))

[phantasmacabre]

Last one for @vincentvalentineweek 2023! Though I'm sure I'll have many more Vincent-Centric fics in the pipeline soon enough (maybe I already do 😏)

Special thanks to @case-of-traxits for beta reading ! ♥️

No whump for this one! Just cute old men in love

[evedoll2038]

Updated fic now added chapter 4 😭❤️

Cid gets a bit jelly when someone tags along 😏

[sephirthoughts]

New Tseng Headcanons!!

Tseng being a smug villain about blowing up the Sector 7 support pillar and dooming thousands to death, but also holding on to Aerith's letters for Zack because he can't bear to throw them away, which would be tantamount to admitting Zack is really gone. He's complicated.

Tseng can see the Whispers but is gaslighting Rufus about it to amuse himself

this is because Tseng is all ice-cold badass on the surface (like it's a matter of legend that he may have ever smiled once) but he's an absolute menace and he's secretly clowning everyone

it was him who stuck gum on the bottom of all of Reno's shoes

it was him who replaced Elena's bullets with blanks that one time so she thought she was a terrible shot for a whole day

it was him who anonymously circulated those embarrassing photos of Rude when he had his MC Hammer phase as a teen (Rude was not embarrassed in the least and maintains that he looked cool in parachute pants, with a flat-top fade)

it was him who threw a red scarf in with Rufus' laundry when they were in Junon and it was the only suit he brought, so he had to do a press conference in bright pink

it was him who taught Darkstar to bark wildly whenever Scarlet says the word "boring" or Hojo says the word "fascinating"

Tseng actually laughs really easily and has a very childish sense of humor. a lot of the times that he's being all silent and stoic and mysterious, it's because he literally has to bite his tongue to stop himself laughing at some stupid shit, and he can't talk while he's doing that

no one but Tseng's mother has ever actually heard him laugh (like really laugh not the villain laugh he does when he's making a theatrical scene about some evil shit he's up to)

Tseng smokes when he's stressed. no one in the fucking world knows about it and they never will. there is never even a molecule of lingering scent on him ever. the lengths he has to go to in order to accomplish this are….excessive, since no one would give a shit if they knew he smoked. he just doesn't like anyone knowing anything about him

on that note, no one knows where he actually lives. he keeps multiple dummy addresses on file with Shinra to throw the HR people off. the other Turks can't even figure it out because he always spots them when they try to tail him. like from 200 yards that asshole is supernatural or something

he considered Zack his best friend because they had several missions together and exchanged multiple sentences outside of work, due to their both caring for Aerith. it destroyed him that he failed to save Zack and he became even more cold, detached, and emotionally unavailable because of it. no one ever noticed any of this because he's a goddamn pro

he still has the letters

he's a huge dorky ridiculous Vincent Valentine fangirl and the secret president of the (admittedly very small) fan club

the fan club is called the TV Club, as in Turk Valentine, because that makes it sound like boring nerd shit that no one would be curious about if it happened to come up somehow

most of the TV Club members are retired Shinra employees who had crushes on Vincent back in the day, before he disappeared. the conspiracy theories regarding him being alive rival those of the famous Elvis truthers, and some of them get weirdly close to the real facts (those ones ironically are the most laughed at and least believed theories)

there is some very well written but anonymous reader-insert Rookie Turk x Agent Valentine fanfic on their message board, but no one can prove who wrote it

Veld is also in the fan club

so is Sephiroth for reasons currently unknown

people say Tseng's Turk Valentine cosplay is absolutely stunning (mostly because he's also beautiful, black-haired, and Wutaian) but they have no idea how how very much painstakingly historically accurate detail is in it. he had the suit custom tailored from a vintage midnight-blue worsted wool fabric that he had to hunt down because it's not in production anymore

he actually checked Vincent's old service sidearm out of the Shinra armory on supposed official Turk business to go with the costume even though everyone thought it was a replica, because real weapons are not allowed at the convention center. he knew. that was enough.

he wore the costume for the office halloween party, one year, but everyone at work just thought he got a new suit. Reno almost had a brain aneurysm over even that much, though, so it's probably for the best that they didn't notice.

however, the fact that they didn't notice the very obvious blood-red contact lenses made him deeply worried for the future of the Turks. everyone was required to attend remedial espionage training the next week, much to their bitching and moaning

@soundcrusher tagging you cause you said that you wanted to see this silliness. you brought it upon yourself! 🖤

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Sleepwalkers

Pairing: Vincent Valentine x GN!Reader

Synopsis:

Haunted by decades of guilt, regret, and the weight of choices not his own, Vincent Valentine has spent most of his life as a passive observer, a man shaped by duty and sorrow. One quiet night at camp, amidst the shared grief of his companions and the looming threat of the world’s end, he finds an unexpected moment of connection that challenges his long-held detachment. Or, healing comes in baby steps.

Word Count: 1,396

Warnings: A little angst. Mention of canon character death. Brief mention of blood, body horror.

Read on AO3

Half a century of life, and Vincent Valentine spent most of it asleep. Not just the three decades of self-imposed solitude, sealed away in that coffin, drowning in guilt and regret, but even the years before. He’d been sleepwalking through his life—a shambling corpse, puppeted by duty. He became a Turk to prove something, to make something of himself beyond his father’s long and looming shadow. A man in his own right. That was the idea. But even then, every step seemed more choreographed than chosen.

The post in Nibelheim? That wasn’t for him—it was for Veld, for the team, for the company. Each assignment, each decision, framed by someone else’s need, someone else’s hand tugging the strings. And Vincent, with his quiet acquiescence, had always gone along. Always. Weak and witless as he was, he’d never once dug in his heels, never entertained the wild, reckless idea of wanting something purely for himself.

There was always someone else’s need that was greater, another’s desire that surpassed his own. His father. The Turks. Veld. Lucrecia—

Lucrecia. He had wanted her. But now, with thirty years of distance, he isn’t sure if it had been love or just the impulse to alleviate her suffering, to protect her. He supposes it doesn’t matter anymore. She had made her choice, and he’d bowed out. As always, he’d stepped aside, made room for her to choose someone else.

For all the good it had done him.

Even a death on his own terms had been denied him.

Hojo had put a bullet in his heart, and before his blood could even cool, Lucrecia had plunged her hands into his broken chest and pulled it back out. Between the two of them, they’d torn him apart like dogs fighting over a bone—cutting and stitching, splicing and fusing, until there was little left of Vincent Valentine. The man replaced with something ancient, something dark.

Now, as he sits at the edge of camp, the others settling in for the night, the weight of his inaction feels like it might crush him. He presses a hand to his chest, the sharp metal fingers of his gauntlet resting over the unnatural thrum where his heart should be. The night grows quiet, the buzz of nearby conversation dwindling to nothing as his companions seek out sleep one after the other.

Vincent doesn’t mind keeping watch. The long stretch of quiet solitude comes as a blessing after a day spent tolerating Yuffie’s endless complaints, Tifa’s brittle smiles, or Cloud’s thousand yard stare. Aerith’s absence hangs over them like a cloud and daylight only reveals the fracture in their group, the fragile hold they each have on their grief. But suddenly, the prospect of holding silent vigil by himself until dawn seems a daunting task.

He isn’t sure how much time passes, only that when he hears a rustling beside him, the fire has dwindled down to embers. Overhead, an owl hoots, leaving its roost to hunt, and Vincent turns to find he’s no longer alone.

His eyes trace the line of your legs, the hem of your shirt, the shape of your waist, and finally up to your face. Backlit by moonlight, your hair glows in silver, a soft halo framing your features. You offer him a sleepy smile, stretching as if shaking off the remnants of a dream.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Vincent asks, his voice low and even, though his crimson gaze lingers on your face.

You shake your head, settling beside him, close enough that he can feel your warmth. “Too quiet,” you admit with a small laugh, looking out at the darkened woods beyond the camp. “Figured I’d keep you company for a while.”

He watches you closely, noting the strain that hovers behind the sweetness of your smile, the tension in your shoulders that belies a deeper issue. But Vincent doesn’t press and realizing he’s been staring long enough, he scoots to the side in wordless invitation. It’s a small gesture, enough room for you to settle in, but subtle enough to ignore should you so choose.

It’s all the same to him. Still, he feels a small flicker of relief when you sink down onto the grass beside him. Both of you face ahead, attention fixed resolutely on the horizon. But he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You worry at your lip, fingers twisting idly around the longest blades of grass. 

“It’s a nice night,” you whisper, abandoning your fidgeting to lean back on your hands. Your head tips back so you can look up at the stars. 

Vincent hums, shifting his cloak higher over his chin.

“Do you…do you think the stars will still be here. Even when–even if, the rest of this all goes away.”

Goes away. Vincent’s lips pull into a tight line. You dance so delicately around saying what you really mean, but he hears what you don’t say. 

If we fail. If Sephiroth gets control of the black materia and brings the world as we know it to an end. If we let everything die. 

The stars. You tilt your head back to gaze at them, their light faint but enduring, scattered across the velvet expanse of the night. The quiet vulnerability in your voice lingers between you like a fragile thread.

Vincent doesn’t answer immediately, nearly decides not to answer at all. His gaze drifts upward, following yours, but he doesn’t see the stars—not truly. What he sees is a void, endless and cold, mirroring the emptiness he’s felt for decades. The world you’re fighting to save feels distant to him, a place he no longer belongs. Another dream his battered body is too weary to chase. But your question tugs at something deep, something he hasn’t let himself consider in far too long.

Will the stars still be here, even if everything else is lost? Like him are they cursed to linger on, watching even as all sense of time or meaning slips away? Suddenly he pities them, the bright points of light sparkling overhead.

“They’ll remain,” he says finally, his voice low, the words carried more by certainty than warmth. “Stars don’t depend on us. They existed long before we did, and they’ll shine long after we’re gone.”

You nod, though your expression is distant, thoughtful. “I guess that’s comforting,” you murmur. “In a way.”

Vincent glances at you, his crimson eyes catching the faint silver glow of the moonlight. “In a way,” he echoes. The silence stretches between you again, the kind that feels both heavy and unspoken, yet somehow companionable.

As the quiet settles around you, the warmth of your presence radiate beside him. Neither of you speak another word.  Your breathing slows, finally the tension in your frame softening as the weight of exhaustion finally takes hold. Vincent notices your movements grow still, your head dipping slightly before it comes to rest on his shoulder.

He freezes, his body instinctively rigid at the unexpected contact. It’s been years since anyone has sought such closeness from him—or since he’s allowed it. His gauntlet brushes against the fabric of his cloak as he considers pulling away. But then, he stops. Slowly, the tension drains from his frame as he realizes you’re not asking for anything from him, not even words. Just rest. Just this, a quiet moment of respite before facing down the inevitable.

Carefully, he adjusts his posture to support your weight. His chin lowers until it rests lightly against your head, strands of your hair brushing his cheek. The gesture is subtle, almost imperceptible, but it feels monumental to him. For so long, his actions have been dictated by others—by duty, by guilt, by expectation. But this? This is a choice.

For the first time in what feels like lifetimes, Vincent Valentine chooses to stay in the moment, to step into it wide awake. Not because he owes it to someone, not because it’s expected of him, but because he wants to.

The stars continue their silent vigil overhead, indifferent to the small, quiet scene beneath them. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Vincent doesn’t feel their distance as a curse. With you resting peacefully against him, the void within him feels just a little less endless. It’s fragile, fleeting, but for now, it’s enough.

[kingofbeartraps]

I really love the new suit, you guys. Like that is a work of art.

Also Vincent used to be an absolute shit and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

[getvalentined]

Based on Chapter 19 of Before Crisis, a short exchange between two old ex-Turks that completely changed my brain chemistry.

Took some liberties with dialogue translation, for tone and brevity.

[little-black-dress-zack-fair]

Vincent: *about Lucrecia* And then we had a little eye contact.

Veld: Eye contact? I hope you were using protection.

[getvalentined]

YOU GET THE BEST GRADE IN VINVELD YOU KNOCKED IT OUTTA THE PARK—innumerable thanks and love to both you and Jess for this once again, I literally cried. It's so lovely.

a soft postcanon vinveld commission for @getvalentined​ ‘s birthday! ngl it felt a little like turning in a paper to your professor who is also a leading expert in her field. professor nashi of vinveld studies. please give me a good grade

happy (belated as of posting) birthday again!! may your year be full of many soft vinvelds to come

[phantasmacabre]

My fic for @vincentvalentineweek 2023 prompts fruit, garland, spirits

[sephirthoughts]

Vincent/Tseng Headcanons Big Board

🖤❤️‍🩹 inbox me vincent x tseng headcanon asks!!!❤️‍🩹🖤

vincent is half wutaian (raised bilingual) but people always assume he's white

except tseng who is also wutaian

they speak their native language when they want to talk privately in front of people

except that asshole yuffie who has no social awareness and will be like "HEY WHY ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT CLOUD IN WUTAIAN HE CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU"

people say casually racist things about wutai to tseng all the time. he ignores it because he’s a professional with an incredibly thick skin. woe betide the fool who does it in front of vincent though. that's how tseng found out he doesn't need to change into Chaos to be fucking terrifying

vincent is a literal legend to tseng, who was mentored and eventually put in charge of the turks by vincent’s friend veld. veld talked about vincent all the time so tseng has heard *some things* about their youthful exploits and death-defying missions

tseng reflexively refers to vincent with respectful pronouns (basically calls him sir) and vincent is super embarrassed by it

they have shot each other more than once

tseng realized vincent liked him when he shot him from 150 yards and only grazed his shoulder. vincent valentine does not miss

elena: thank the goddess it's just a minor flesh wound tseng: elena: sir your heart rate is spiking! you gotta calm down, it's really nothing to be stressed about. i'd call it a scratch more than a wound tseng: elena: WTF it's getting worse! reno call a medivac the boss is going into shock!