"spark ff13"
By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu)

URL: https://pastebin.com/pAFqrDiV
Created on: Tuesday 16th of February 2016 12:54:22 AM CDT
Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:40:20 AM UTC


Spark 
By: Desert Butterfly Kana ?  
"There was something about Vanille that pulled him close, closer with each passing day; it was almost insane and he wasn't so sure that it was all just because of his young age or his rushing hormones or…something deeper and more dangerous."
Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Hope, Vanille - Words: 4,436 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 32 - Follows: 4 - Published: Dec 24, 2010 - Status: Complete - id: 6586455  

?+  ?-  ?   ?     ?   ?

 


NOTE: I've wanted to write this for a while; in theory, this is a "spin-off" of "Anamníseis", set right before Hope's third memory of Vanille. But it can be easily taken on its own.
Anyways, I was saying, I've had this idea in mind for weeks before I got the inspiration to actually write it, so a couple of things deserve credits for helping me:
* Snow Patrol and their song If I'd found the right words to say, which is probably the most HopeVani-ish song I've ever heard.
* Biancadar and her HopeVani video on the song You by Yuya Matsushita. I just love it ^^
* Yet another song: I think we're alone now by Girls Aloud, whose lyrics fit the first part of this story in a perfect way.

I hope I haven't messed up too much with the layout, this time ^^'

DISCLAIMER: Rated M for a reason. That reason. I don't own Final Fantasy XIII, otherwise the game would have had an alternate ending.

Spark

"Shooting stars, huh?"

Fang nodded lightly as if answering to Sazh's question, her eyes staring up at the sky. The air was turning brisker, quite colder than it had been during the day. The wind blew chills along the group's bodies as they looked in the same direction as Fang and Sazh.

Vanille joined the hunter's side, her arms crossed on her chest against the freezing breeze.
"Stars fall like rain in this period of the year." she paused to nod, cradling her chin in her hand: "…oh well, from what I remember."
As the party stared in the distance, beyond the silent valley and the shattered ruins of Oerba, a couple of stars fell across the dark sky; they disappeared somewhere behind the hills, their fate unknown.

The older Pulsian woman sighed, not turning to her companions: "Where they're gonna crash, it's anybody's guess."

Snow shook his head, smiling bitterly at her: "Didn't know you had a thing for comparisons, Fang."

The others stood silent, buried in their thoughts; as l'Cie, they were probably going to die before they even got enough arrows on their brands to be turned into Cie'th. Let's see…they could get shot by PSICOMs as soon as they landed back on Cocoon…or they might not even make it back to the floating continent, and just be devoured by some of the sizeable beasts that populated Gran Pulse.
This was no time to feel so down, but they were all exhausted for some reason.
The same reason.
No matter how physically or magically strong they felt, their impending doom was hanging over their heads like a perennial memento mori. There was something bright and powerful about being a l'Cie, but it was a curse, first and foremost.
Power at a price.
They didn't even ask for that power. Three of them ended up being branded because they thought that was the only way to bring back their beloved ones. Two of them, the older ones, were branded long before, and they had no idea why they weren't stuck as crystal ornaments, as it should have been. The last, younger one of them, had that fancy, condemning tattoo because he was in the right place at the wrong time.

Still, they had no time to moan about their fate, whatever it was; not that they had any idea on how to work their magic and powers in a purposeful way.

As they set up a sort of camp for the night, Snow tried to cheer up the atmosphere with some sarcastic comments about the fickle weather of Gran Pulse.
Fang glared at him: "As if Cocoon was any better. Sunshine and sugar and fluff everyday until you're branded as a walking nightmare" she spat, jabbing Snow's arm.
Turning to the bickering pair, Lightning rolled her eyes before letting out a honest, bittersweet chuckle, as if agreeing with the Oerban hunter.
Somehow, this relieved a bit of the heavy numb that was hovering over the group.

A couple of hours later, everyone was about to get to sleep, with the exception of Fang and Lightning, who were charged with guard duty for the night. They sat on a rock near the fire, Sazh and Snow lying on the opposite side and taking up an alarming portion of space. Vanille was huddled peacefully at the foot of the "guard duty" rock, right under Fang's sight.

Suddenly, Lightning watched curiously as she saw Hope rise up to his feet and make his way across the little clearing where they had set camp.

"Hope?"
He stopped, as if he didn't expect someone to notice his movements; he turned slowly to meet her icy eyes.
"Where are you going?"

Hope gave an innocent shrug and pointed towards the wood nearby: "I wanted to go…"

Lightning rose an eyebrow. Hope wasn't one to go waltzing around by himself, especially on a planet he knew nothing about. And in the middle of the freaking night, nonetheless.
"May I ask…why?"

The boy opened his mouth to stammer out an convincing answer, but a chirpy voice interrupted him, coming right from below Lightning's position.

"Don't worry. I'll go with him!" Vanille sprang up from her place, as if she hadn't been immersed in a serene slumber until then.

Lightning's expression turned even more quizzical.
What the hell…?
She stared at Vanille, then at Hope, and finally at Fang, who didn't seem to be bothered at all. She just eyed her sort-of-adopted sister and then turned to Lightning: "Let them go. Vanille's with him."
"Fang…are you serious?"

Lightning hated being in the dark when, apparently, everyone knew. Especially, she hated seeing that sort of behaviour in Fang's antics, and how the hunter seemed to know something about Hope, while she didn't. She, of all people. She, who had witnessed Hope's homicidal speeches and all the pathway that had lead to him being a sort of "second Serah" to her.

Vanille smiled widely and turned to walk towards Hope, but Fang grabbed her by the wrist and shoved something in her palm; the girl peeked at the content of her hand and a red tint crept up her cheeks: "F…Fang…"

Fang just shook a hand in front of her, dismissing Vanille's stutters; reluctantly, Vanille stuffed the object in her pouch, all the while watching Fang winking and hinting at Hope with her arctic green eyes.

Lightning's eyebrows were arching more and more by the second. When Vanille and Hope walked away, approaching the darkness of the forest nearby, the ex-soldier shot a meaningful glance at her companion: "I hope you have an explanation about this…"


As soon as they were alone, silence fell between them.
They walked for a while, trying not to make any loud noises as they pushed their way through tall ferns and thick bushes. They were perfectly aware of how dangerous Gran Pulse could get at night, but something childish and sweet still belonged in their disenchanted minds, and they knew no better than to follow their instinct.

At some point, Vanille stretched her arm to her side, grabbing Hope's hand. Fingers intertwined, palms pressed together, warmth radiating when their forearms occasionally brushed against each other.
After that single, tearful kiss in Oerba, they'd never had any other contact; sure, she often sought his hands and hugged him for no other reason than to make him feel better. Or braver. Or stronger. Or…older.

Since they'd left Oerba, Vanille felt more and more the simple, primary need to look at him. Sideways, unlike the way she'd always done until then. Not in the carefree, curious way she used to look at him, back on Cocoon.
No, she could distinctly feel something warming up inside herself, in an indefinite place between her ribs and her belly. She had found herself having to tore her eyes away from him during battles, or while he was sleeping. Inner questions like "What's so…attracting about him?" and "What's wrong with me?" had been rising in her mind, more and more.

"How wrong is this…?" was the question currently pounding in her brain, as she simply kept walking by his side, through the forest.

"What day is it, Vanille?"

Hope's sudden question took her away from her musings. He had stopped in his tracks, glancing at her with those striking, pure eyes, and waiting for an answer.

She laid her index finger on her mouth, humming and pensive. She looked up at the sky, then back at a random place beyond the trees: "Should be…June…fourth, I think. Why do you ask?"

Hope shrugged and sat down on the grass, looking up at her.
As Vanille imitated him, he glanced silently at her, her vivid red locks, her creamy, fair skin, her dark emerald eyes. Even in the depths of the dark forest, he could still see her shining, just like dawn-turned-human.

Unlike her, Hope knew all too well what was so captivating about Vanille. Even just the simple allure that surrounded her, her vibrating laugh, her clumsy grace; she seemed so crystalline and clear, and at the same time she couldn't help but let more and more secrets slipping out about herself.
Her eyes, despite being green like his and Fang's, had that darker, warmer shade, and Hope could only wonder if it was the genes of the Dia clan that made her irises twinkle in such a tender, sensual way.

He had never had a crush before…or maybe he did, but not to this extent; as he remained speechless, watching Vanille lying back on the grass, all he wanted was to touch her, to know how her skin felt under his fingertips, to experiment with his hands and words, to see if he was able to make her shiver, or whisper his name with a rhythm that was different from her usual one.

The thought made him blush violently. He remembered his teacher giving the class "the technical talk", and speaking about arousal, hormones and…other things that he really didn't want to recall. He never needed those notions until now, and that left him in wonder…what power could a girl have on a boy, by simply glancing at him, or breathing deeply?
There was something about Vanille that pulled him close, closer with each passing day; it was almost insane and he wasn't so sure that it was all just because of his young age or his rushing hormones or…something deeper and more dangerous.
For a while, heart-melting thoughts lingered in his head. Things they could do once this whole mess was over. Things he could do with her, for her.
Introducing her to his father; asking Sazh to teach them how to fly anything, from cars to hoverbikes to airships, without crashing somewhere; learning how to speak to almost every living creature.

Meanwhile, he heard himself muttering ordinary questions: "Are you cold?"

She shook her head, still looking up. Occasionally, she would lay her eyes on him, and when she caught him staring at her, she just smiled in her typical, sugary, amazing, disarming way.

She was so close. All he had to do was shifting his hand to his right; only a couple of inches, and he could actually lay his palm on her exposed belly, or let his fingers graze her lips, her cheeks, and down to her inviting neck.

But he couldn't, and he knew it. Maybe, if he had met her in a different way, at a different time…maybe, if she'd hinted that she wanted something more, that that kiss hadn't been a pastime, that her wishes matched his.
Maybe, if he stopped the "maybe game"…

Vanille had completely stopped staring at the increasing number of shooting stars, and was currently looking at him intently, almost in a quizzical way, a small smile curving her lips' corners upwards: "You okay, Hope?"

He smiled in return: "If your calculations are exact, and we're past midnight…I'm officially fifteen now."
Vanille's eyes widened, a wide smile plastered on her face; her hand reached out to land on his forearm: "Why didn't you tell me before?"
Hope chuckled lightly: "The group didn't seem too keen on celebrating something. Besides…" his expression darkened a bit, but the quiet smile, somehow, refused to leave his lips. "…this is my first birthday without mum, so…"

Vanille's hand stroked his arm gently, not knowing what to say. She knew sentences like "Don't worry, you'll make it" weren't what he needed. She recalled the moment of Nora's death so perfectly, as easily as she remembered the moment she'd met her and her son.

"I'm sorry, Hope. I…really…I barely knew your mum, but I'm sure she would be proud of how you're dealing with…all this."

She stopped abruptly, knowing that she couldn't tell him for what she felt sorry the most. It wasn't the right time.
"Not right now", she thought, trying to look at his soft features without feeling a spasm of guilt in her heart.

And, for the first time since that kiss in Oerba, she realised that, while still being there, guilt wasn't the strongest feeling in her heart.
She had never felt that way before. Never in her life. But she had seen it coming, and overcoming any rational intentions she might have had about it.
And, holy Maker, how it scared her. So, so much. Deep inside her soul, she knew what was that feeling, but she also knew that she couldn't give voice to it; she had tried not to think about it, to keep it to herself, and herself alone.
Not even Fang could know. Maybe she could guess it…it's hard to fool someone that has practically raised you.

Vanille could feel the corners of her eyes burning, though only slightly.
What was more wrong? Acknowledging her instincts, or keep on pretending, and lying?
She knew that her time was limited, on whatever planet. Her time would come, sooner or later, whether she accepted her fate or not.
She slammed her eyes shut, clenching her fists and biting her inner cheek; she was tired of lying. To Sazh, to Lightning, to Snow, to Serah.
To Fang.
To Hope.
To herself.
How on Hell did she ever let fear take over her good intentions, her will to set things straight, her desire to be redeemed?

Then, something happened all of a sudden.
She must have been plunged deep in her musings, because she didn't hear Hope shifting from his place and, apparently, taking off his gloves. The first things she felt were his soft lips leaning slowly on her forehead, and his equally delicate scent tingling her confused mind.
Her eyes split open, taking in the sight of Hope hovering over her, leaning with his hands on the grass on each side of her body.
Unhurriedly, he trailed a bunch of supple, innocent kisses all along the side of her face, down to her cheek and her chin, while his body lowered onto hers, gradually.

He didn't want to hurt her in any way; he had seen her watery eyes, few instants before, and he just wanted to do whatever he could to make her feel less strained.
Noticing that she didn't budge, he didn't know if what he did was wrong, or if he had been too straightforward…he just distanced his face from hers.

"V…Vanille…sorry, I didn't…"

Vanille looked up at him, her irises still glossy with tears threatening to spill out; but she shook her head and grabbed his face, drawing him down unto her again, crashing into Hope's parted lips.

This kiss was so different from the one in Oerba, so forceful and needy that Hope rapidly found himself grasping Vanille's wrist with one hand, the other one lost in her salmon-coloured ringlets. The Pulsian girl, on the other hand, lifted her arms up to wrap around his shoulders, pressing him down further against her body; as he sunk onto her, he gasped briefly as he tasted Vanille's tongue for the first time. Ironically, she tasted exactly like her namesake; or maybe a mixture of it and something crisp and soft. Like strawberries, or cotton candy.

Before he could even realise it, Hope found himself moving his hand down, brushing on the outside of Vanille's halter top, and slipping slowly underneath it.
His fingertips were freezing, compared to the increasingly hot skin of Vanille's chest, and she gasped in turn, goosebumps erupting swiftly on her body as she felt Hope's hand move up to rub the underside of her left breast.

Finding it hard to keep on kissing him while she panted under his touch, she moved her head downwards, nuzzling his jaw-line and kissing his neck, tracing a path with her tongue until she met his throat. She felt something hard pressing against her inner thigh and she sat up, pulling his hand out from underneath her top and looking attentively in his eyes.

Hope knew this moment would come.
He nodded, before she even asked her crucial question.
"I'm sure", he whispered, grabbing her hand firmly.

Still, though softened by his certainty, her serious expression remained: "You are fifteen, Hope. I'm…well, older than you. Gran Pulse didn't…well, doesn't have any rules about this, but…I know that there are laws about this, on Cocoon, and…I have a conscience, Hope.". She stopped talking, her voice becoming to fearful and unsteady to go on. She wasn't ready to admit that she didn't care about those rules; or any rules.

"Vanille, it's our decision. It's just us; people already hate us for no other reason that what we've been dragged into by mistake. Do you really care what they think about something we willingly decide to do?"

She felt her heart flooding with thousands of emotions all at once, just by hearing that simple, rhetorical question. Those emotions carved a hole in her wall of lies, burning the image of his eyes right in the centre of her heart and her brain. Suddenly, being made a l'Cie didn't matter anymore, nor did the age difference, nor the fact that they could die at any given moment. The thought that whatever the future held for her could effectively hurt him occurred to her mind, but she pushed it away.

She wanted to be selfish. She wanted happiness, warmth, happy-go-luckiness, hope.
Past or future. Death or life. Cie'th or crystal. Slave or monster. Fate or salvation. None of these did matter now.

When she spoke, the words coming out of her mouth were shaky, spontaneous. She was so decided, yet so scared…she tugged at the bands in her hair, freeing her locks from her trademark pigtails.

"Hope, this isn't wrong for me."

They'd both fallen for the wrong person, in the wrong moment, in the worst situation possible. But they didn't choose it; everything simply happened, weaving the seams until that very instant under the starry sky. What to do with the strings of that scheme…it was all up to them.

He just smiled. Words were superfluous, complicated.
Vanille leaned in, kissing him softly, while she worked with her hands to remove her many necklaces and beads, pulling away her top along the way. Hope did the same, while still staring in her eyes, until he was completely naked.
Vanille lifted a hand to draw the outlines of his chest, as if trying to create a map of his tantalizing features. A concentrated look in her eyes, she felt almost hypnotized by the contrast between his soft, roughly feminine lips and the shapes of his naked form. His face might have been still delicate and reminiscent of Nora's, but his body was definitely starting to develop at a quick pace; she didn't know if Hope had to thank the fights, or Lightning's training, or the fal'Cie, but his body was turning into that of a well-shaped young man; slightly broader shoulders, strong arms, a shade of tan on his chest.

Silently, she took his hand, placing it over her heart; her heartbeat was frantic, and Hope almost thought he could actually hear it. It was happening, for real.

Hope's hands reached behind her back to untie the knot of her strapless bra and, right after, he moved down lower to remove her skirt and panties. Vanille could hardly contain a chuckle as he stared dumbfounded and red-faced at her unclothed self, her round breasts, her smooth, milky skin. She was so beautiful, in a simple yet alienating way.
She was human, sure, but no other woman on Cocoon radiated a charm that was even remotely as stunning as hers. He looked down at her upper thigh, studying the arrows of her brand and watching it catch the light cast by the falling stars. That mark stuck out on her fair skin, black and menacing, but for once he didn't feel like condemning it; truth was, he'd never considered that a casual event like their branding could be something positive, and he wasn't surely going to think that the fal'Cie had any intentions of bringing them together…but it did, somehow. It forced them to stick together, side by side, and he wanted that.

Hope let his arms hug her, as his head lowered down to her breasts, suckling on her nipples; Vanille threw her head back, letting deep moans out of her lips while her fingers roamed along his shoulders and biceps, taking in his lean, solid skin.
She squirmed when she felt his hand travelling down along her stomach and her abdomen, coming to rest between her legs; his index fingers slid across the damp slit, his breath letting a low moan slipping out at the contact with her moist arousal.

He raised his eyes just in time to see her rummaging inside her pouch, drawing out a small, bright blue wrap; her cheeks blushed as she caught his curious look, and she lowered her eyes, her face almost scarlet, her trembling hands fumbling with the small packet and its content.
"Fang?" Hope questioned, lifting his eyebrows in wonder.
As she finally completed her task, Vanille looked up through a curtain of raspberry-coloured locks and nodded.
Hope chuckled, mumbling something about the hunter's pervert (but forecasting) attitude, and mentally thanking her.

He lifted Vanille's chin up to lock his eyes into hers.

I want this. You. Right now.

If their orbs could speak, this is what they would say.
No other words were needed.

He laid a gentle kiss on her lips, his nervousness starting to subside to the heat of the moment. Vanille pushed him gently on his back and she shifted slowly, her shins coming to rest on the grass, Hope's hips pressed in between her thighs.

Taking in a deep breath, she lowered herself onto his member, dipping it deep inside her with one single motion.
While Hope simply let out a strong groan and grabbed her hips to block Vanille in her position, she had to squeeze her eyes shut and clasp a hand on her mouth, stifling her scream until it became nothing more than a deep whimper. A single tear rolled down her cheek, landing on his chest, and he looked up at her, amazed: "You are…were…"
Heat flooded her mind as she flushed yet one more time and nodded: "You are my first, Hope."

A weird mixture of relief and pleasure filled the smile that Hope gave her, after hearing her words. While it was obvious to everyone in the party that he was inexperienced, and even given Vanille's naïve attitude, he had never imagined he could be her first. Not even in his fantasies.
And while both of them had tried to imagine how sex could feel or taste like, their imagination had never been this close to how it really was. Her walls were so tense and slick, her heat so burning; when they started to move, taking a couple of minutes to create a synched pace, they could clearly feel each other's spasms and pulsing core.

Hope's palms, still holding tightly on her hips, were soon coated in her warm sweat as she moved faster on top of him, her fringe sticking to her forehead, his eyes mesmerized by the sight of her and his own movements. They tried to keep their voices low, but he loved just how she sounded, how she seemed to have acquired a totally different timbre; at the same time, she found herself using his huskier groans to regulate her motions, the sound coming out of his mouth too addicting to refuse to follow it.

"Hope!"

He didn't know how her orgasm would break out, but once it did, he could clearly feel it. Vanille tossed her head back, her back arched to pursue his last thrust, her skin glistening in the darkness. That vision alone was enough to push Hope over the edge, and beyond. One of his hands left her hips to grab her hand and squeeze it vehemently, her name leaving his mouth in a sharp, painfully pleasure-filled gasp.

Once they'd regained control over their breaths, she fell forward, resting her body on his. Clueless about what to do, Hope just hugged her and stroked her messy hair.
None of them knew what to say, or think. He didn't want her to be afraid, and she didn't want him to create dreams about them, if she wasn't sure to be able to fulfil them. Sooner or later.

She didn't know if what she felt was what people call "love"; but she was sure that the fuzzy tingling in her heart was happiness.
Being happy. She was afraid, but this was yet one more thing she wanted to fight for.