An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/8
Fandom: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake and Rebirth (Video Games 2020-2024), Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lucrecia Crescent/Vincent Valentine, Red XIII | Nanaki & Vincent Valentine
Characters: Vincent Valentine, Lucrecia Crescent, Nibelheim townsfolk, Red XIII | Nanaki (Compilation of FFVII)
Additional Tags: Vincent Valentine Week 2025, Angst, Vincent's always had mental health issues, Lucrecia has complicated feelings, And an excessive flight response, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Friendship
The next birthday is in! I will go back and add Day 2 and 3 later, work was way too hectic those days, but I have ideas for their prompts!
From The Man Comes Around, where two guilty dudes listen to Johnny Cash in a cave. Challenge: everyone read more Barret fics (not just mine)! He's so great
Vincent times five for @vincentvalentineweek Day 3: Arrow! Call it the Valentimeline 😊
This one's also from Ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space, where time's arrow does not go forward as promised. This Valentine's Day, love your inner children ❤️
Gonna be honest with you all, this is likely to be the only prompt for this week that I fill, but being that the prompt is Kiss, I just couldn't help doing a sequel to my very well received 'Monster' prompt from the last one. Enjoy!
Glowing yellow eyes fill your vision, slitted pupils shimmering in the low light. You don’t want to shut your eyes, you’re too afraid, but you don’t want to keep looking either. The expression painted onto Vincent’s face is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He looks wrong and inhuman. The creature, Chaos, is completely in control.
The sharp tips of Vincent’s gauntlet prick underneath your chin as he pulls you closer. The heat of his breath assaults your cheek, short, rough puffs of air that feel more animalistic than human. You expect his breath to smell rancid, like rotting flesh and meat, but he smells normal, a familiar mix of mint and mouthwash. You don’t know what to do.
You’re out of options, you don’t have many choices. You’re going to have to kiss Vincent, kiss the creature controlling him. You don’t think Chaos is going to hurt you, it hasn’t tried to so far but it seems tricky, manipulative. You don’t know if you can trust the deep rumble of its promises.
“Relax Sweetheart,” Vincent’s voice purrs, reassuring in a way that threatens to undo you. Chaos can make itself sound like him, it can choose how much of Vincent it puts into its voice. Your body wants to obey the command. Vincent’s voice is comforting, a warm light that you know you can always trust. You don’t know what to do.
Chaos tilts your head up while it tilts Vincent’s face to the side. There’s a snaking darkness beginning to run down from the corner of Vincent’s eyes, angular, lined tattoos dragging downwards and outlining the muscles of his face, similar to Galian’s markings. Vincent’s full lips peel back into a smirk exposing teeth that suddenly seem too white and too sharp. Chaos leans in closer. You hold your breath, desperately holding back a shudder as familiar lips press to yours.
The kiss is immediately wrong. You’ve never really noticed it before but Vincent always kisses with his bottom lip pressed underneath yours. Chaos does not. Its tongue is eager, running uncoordinated against your lips, trying to slip inside. You don’t know if you should pull away or just let it do whatever it wants. You feel a sudden hint of teeth, too numerous and sharp against your top lip. You can’t help but gasp. It’s a mistake. A tongue that is too long and too dexterous explores your mouth, lashing at the back of your throat.
You try to pull back, choking and spluttering. Chaos lets you go, laughing maniacally, the sound somehow saccharine and full of mischief. You flail, coughing and struggling to maintain your composure. Chaos licks its lips, digging a too long tongue roughly into reddened flesh, desperate to lap up whatever taste you must have left behind.
“You are too sweet,” Chaos purrs, lips curling up at the corners. “However,” it cackles, smile growing wider, far too wide to fit properly on a human face. It’s head snaps to the side with a resounding crack of bone. “I meant a kiss somewhere else.”
It takes far too long for you to understand its words and you can’t help but baulk. It can’t possibly be asking for that, can it? You don’t know if you should try to seek clarification. You don’t really want to, but you need to have as much information as possible, you need to try to be on equal footing with this creature.
Chaos lolls its long tongue from Vincent’s mouth. It’s completely inhuman, barbed at the edges and covered in small textured bumps. Its tongue shifts and suddenly it’s split in two, double ended with each part moving independently, sliding and flicking. Each tip undulates, twisting in the air and clearly imitating a sexual act. You stare, unable to look away, completely mesmerised.
Chaos laughs once more, the sound somehow crystal clear even with its tongue hanging from its mouth. It winks, yellow eyes gleaming as it slowly pulls the twirling appendage back between Vincent’s lips. “Let us find shelter,” it coos, changing the subject immediately and starting to stand up.
Vincent’s waterlogged cloak and dark clothing easily blend into the surroundings, but you can still tell that Chaos doesn’t quite know how to move its body. Vincent’s limbs splay at odd angles, not quite broken, but definitely in ways that would be extremely uncomfortable. Chaos kicks off the tree with its wings, you suddenly notice they’re starting to look more corporeal than hazy. Chaos stands, legs locked completely straight, knees not bending at all.
You look up at Vincent, at Chaos, not sure what to do. A single, skeletal wing is still angled awkwardly above your head, protecting you from the pouring rain. Vincent looks taller, somehow stretched out, already long limbs suddenly seeming unnatural. You know you must just be imagining it, his clothes would visibly look different if he’d actually grown.
Chaos looks down at you, a predatory glint in yellow, slitted eyes. Vincent’s gauntlet reaches out to you, golden fingers curled slightly to protect you from their sharp points. “Come,” it purrs with a wink.
You don’t have any choice but to follow. Chaos is still trying to protect you, still keeping you sheltered from the rain. You’re going to need to trust it. You take Vincent’s hand and you’re quickly pulled up with far too much strength. You fall, completely off balance, face smacking into the centre of Vincent’s chest. Chaos hisses with laughter and pulls you in close, arms and wings sealing you to its body.
The edge of a wing cradles the back of your head, pressing you tightly against a rumbling chest. The tight hug protects you from the rain and you can’t help but relax slightly. You want to push away but you’re still lost and upset and it’s natural to want to seek comfort with the body of your lover. You want to be close to Vincent, you always want to be close to him. You enjoy cuddling with him, ear pressed against the steady beat of his heart. Your body shifts automatically, adjusting away from the sharp press of buckles and buttons. Hugging him is second nature to you, and you know how to make it comfortable.
Chaos purrs, running its gauntleted hand gently up and down your back. The sharp golden fingers almost feel like claws and the touch is soothing even though you think it should be causing you panic. You need to keep your guard up but it’s difficult. You’re too used to being able to let go of everything when you’re in Vincent’s arms and you’re struggling to fight against your body.
A warm cheek presses to the top of your head, nuzzling softly. You find yourself relaxing, unable to help it, until you feel the sudden, wet press of a tongue against your forehead. You pull back with shock and Chaos lets you, wing angling above your head to keep you dry.
It laughs with that very un-Vincent-like cackle, wings flapping in time with its laughter. “Let’s go,” it purrs, quickly hoisting you off balance and up into its arms.
You squeak, unable to stop the noise. Chaos holds you bridal style, gauntlet resting against your back. Its wing curls around you once more, protecting you from the rain as it starts walking. The first few steps are unsteady, knees not bending correctly and joints popping and shaking. Quickly though, it works out what to do, easing into unnaturally long, steady strides.
“We will find shelter soon,” Chaos purrs, voice echoing through Vincent’s chest.
“How do you know?” you stammer, voice trembling, not even sure why you’re asking.
“The planet speaks to me,” Chaos replies, not elaborating. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you don’t.
The rain grows heavier, turning into a rough storm. Thunder roars in the distance. Your clothes are still soaked but you’re starting to dry, having been sheltered from the rain long enough. Heavy raindrops pelt against the wing above your head. It’s skeletal and barely corporeal. It looks like the rain should just go through it, but somehow it’s even protecting you from the wind.
You look up, noticing that Chaos is not making any attempt to keep Vincent’s body dry. Vincent’s dark hair is plastered against his face, the length of it blowing roughly in the wind. Chaos looks down at you and you quickly glance away from the shimmering yellow. It’s all too much. You don’t like it. You like Vincent’s usual shining red eye, you find it comforting and hate that you can’t see it.
You walk for probably five more minutes, but it’s difficult to tell. The black wing blocks most of your vision, so you can’t see what’s in front of you. You can hear that the storm is continuing to pick up, the wind howling and trees cracking.
“We are here,” Chaos shouts, taking a few more steps until the world suddenly grows quiet.
The wing leaves your front and you look at your surroundings. You’re in a carved out rock formation, you’d barely call it a cave, but it’s dry and there’s enough room for even Vincent to stand up. It will definitely do for shelter.
You’re put down carefully, hand resting supportively on your back until you find your footing. You step back, retreating carefully further into the safe, dryness of the cave. Chaos steps away, positioning just inside the safety of the shelter. It bends Vincent’s body slightly and then starts shaking dry like an animal. Fluffed up wings and hair fly everywhere as water splatters all over the walls and floor, somehow missing you. His body is blurry, moving faster than your eyes can track. He’s noticeably drier when he steps back towards you.
Chaos steps closer and you struggle not to retreat. You straighten your back and try to stand your ground. You need to not show fear or reluctance. Vincent’s golden arm reaches out to you again, sharp fingers curling as they press to your cheek. You stay deathly still, barely even breathing. You don’t want to get scratched. “Are you alright?” Chaos murmurs, genuine concern lacing its deep, echoing voice. “Are you cold? Injured?”
You’re caught off guard but try your best to reply, voice wavering. “I-I’m fine,” you stammer, because you are. You’re still wet but not enough that it will cause problems. You’re not injured, just shaken up and incredibly unsure. A sudden, loud crack of thunder echoes through the cave, making the ground shake. Lightning crackles at the mouth of the cave, casting bright lights and dark shadows everywhere. You jump back, startled, wincing as golden fingers scratch your cheek.
Chaos laughs, the sound full of mirth as it coos and tries to soothe you. “It is just lightning,” it murmurs, sounding far too much like Vincent and his dry sense of humour. Chaos steps towards you and then stops, yellow eyes zeroing in on your cheek.
Vincent’s gloved hand reaches out and grips roughly at your chin. Leather creaks as it tugs at your skin. “I am sorry,” Chaos says, genuine remorse in its voice. It tilts your jaw from side to side, inspecting the damage. It leans down and you’re worried that it might try to kiss you again. Instead Vincent’s regular tongue darts out to lick at the cut. There’s a tiny, tingling stinging and then nothing, just warm saliva quickly cooling on your skin. “All better,” Chaos purrs, stepping back with a smile.
You reach up, not feeling anything aside from wetness on your cheek. It healed you with its tongue, somehow.
“Wait here,” Vincent’s voice says and you turn towards the sound. “I will return shortly with firewood.”
You don’t know if you should protest. You don’t want to be left on your own but you don’t want to go back out into the rain either. Chaos moves too quickly, not letting you make a decision. It walks out of the cave, immediately getting drenched by the rain. Lighting strikes once more, lighting up Vincent’s silhouette, complete with horns and wings as he walks away.
You lean against the corner of the cave and wait, not sure what to do. You’re stuck with Chaos until Vincent wakes up, if Chaos ever lets him wake up. There’s no point in running, you’re safe and dry at the moment, and that’s what’s most important. You don’t think Chaos means you any harm, it had healed you and has done nothing but protect you. You feel bad for being so distrusting. You wouldn’t have any apprehension if Galian had taken over Vincent’s skin, you feel like you should give another of his monsters the benefit of the doubt.
You hear a loud echoing crack. You think it’s more thunder but then it happens again and you think that it’s actually a tree being ripped apart. Chaos returns a few minutes later, arms full of gigantic log chunks, wing angled across the top of them to keep them dry. It deposits them in the centre of your shelter, dripping water all over the floor before stepping back to the entrance and shaking dry once more.
You look up and realise that Vincent now looks even less like himself. His skin has grown sallow, pale skin tinted grey instead of pink. The veins on his face have darkened, twirling and patterning his skin like thorns. The horns on his head are taller, more pronounced and less shadowy. They’re barbed and twisted, real, his hair falling awkwardly around them, before his hair had been phasing through them.
Chaos doesn’t notice you staring as it squats down and gathers the logs into a pile, lighting them on fire with a click of golden claws. You could have done it yourself with materia, but somehow you weren’t expecting this creature to have that ability.
“Come,” it calls, head craned far further back than should be possible to look at you. You look away but slowly head over. You want to sit by the fire and warm up, and want it to stop twisting Vincent’s neck so unnaturally. You’re glad that his cowl covers him so that you don’t have to see. You slowly walk towards him, watching as Chaos sits down on the floor by the fire, beckoning you closer.
You’d prefer to sit opposite, but Chaos pulls you down the second you walk close enough, bundling you up into Vincent’s lap. His body is warm against your back, while the fire is hot by your front. You curl against him, getting comfortable as arms and wings band tightly around you. You won’t be able to escape unless it lets you go.
“You would enjoy my company,” Chaos murmurs, the facade of Vincent’s face by your ear. “I can please you better than he can.” Vincent’s cheek presses to the top of your head, keeping you steady as Chaos starts removing his gauntlet. It comes off with a click and a creaking of leather as Chaos peels off the elbow length glove underneath it. You know what Vincent’s arm looks like, slightly monstrous and completely inhuman. It doesn’t bother you, you’re used to it even though he rarely removes the glove and only ever touches you with it in the heat of the moment.
Chaos flexes the long, thick fingers of it, jagged claws shifting. Chaos chuckles and then suddenly retracts the claws. You didn’t know Vincent could do that, you think that maybe he can’t. Chaos drags its fingers across your cheek and then down to press at your throat. Your breath hitches. You trust Vincent and you think you trust this part of him too, but his monstrous fingers are pressed to your throat. If his claws unsheathed, you don’t think you’d survive it.
Chaos sniffs violently and buries Vincent’s face into your neck, desperately breathing in your scent. “Your fear is delicious,” it murmurs, “but your pleasure would be even sweeter.” It’s long tongue darts out, laving over your shoulder, the separate, dual tips of it deliberately teasing at different parts of your skin.
You lean away. It feels strange, good, but overwhelming and you’re not sure how you feel. You don’t know what to do. You’re safe and warm now, you’ll be fine until the rain stops or until Vincent wakes up.
“You may say no,” Chaos whispers. “I will not force you, my sweet.” It brushes Vincent’s nose across your cheek. “But I know you want to say yes.”
You shake your head. You don’t want to say yes, you don’t want to do anything with the creature possessing Vincent, and you definitely don’t want to do anything in a cave in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Chaos chuckles. “You are curious, even if you deny it. You already know it is better when I join in.”
You gasp, shaking your head. You don’t want to think about it. There’s always an energy, something powerful and sharp on the somewhat rare occasions that Vincent grows horns. It makes your pleasure stronger and scatters electricity across your skin.
Chaos starts to kiss your neck, pressing warm lips against sensitive skin. “I have waited so long to have you to myself. Allow me to worship you.”
Sparks dance across your skin and skitter down your spine. Everywhere that Chaos touches you radiates an energy, a tightening, lingering tension that grows stronger with each passing moment. You’re curious, you know that you are, even if you want to deny it. You hang your head and open your mouth. You intended to say no, you truly honestly did, but as Chaos cackles sharply behind you, you realise that somehow, the opposite word left your lips.
