femslash_today porn battle entries: twilight (alice/bella [2], alice/rosalie [1]) pg13 - r
title: coupe de grace
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): alice/bella
rating: light r
word count: 543
prompt: hollow for the femslash_today porn battle
spoilers: new moon
Alice has never been any good at saying goodbye. She holds onto people with greedy, sticky fingers, like a messy child smeared with jam. Except she usually has the precognition to never become attached to that which is impermanent. But this… this is going to leave a mark.
She doesn’t leave with the others. The jeep and the Volvo and the BMW leave in a swirl of disapproving glances and shaken (not stirred) heads and EdwardsaysEdwardsaysEdwardsays. She rolls her eyes in her mind, where only he can see. She waits in the forest outside her house, listening to the shuffle of work boots and concerned whispers, before those finally fade with the daylight. She waits until Bella is alone.
The window doesn’t squeak as she slides it open, one perk of her stalker brother and his magic oil can, and her ballet flats land softly on the carpet of Bella’s room.
“You’re not real,” she hears muffled from within a swaddle of blankets, and Alice’s heart breaks a little.
“I may not be him,” she hedges, sitting on a patch of the mattress that isn’t occupied by blankets. She leans over and untangles Bella’s face from the bundle, “But I am real.”
Alice smoothes her hair, drying her tear-stained cheeks and pursing her lips. “Oh Bella.”
Bella’s sobs wrack her body like a caged animal, threatening to claw their way out of her throat. Alice hushes the desperate sound, shuffling her back to the headboard and pulling Bella into her arms. She doesn’t say it will be okay, because she doesn’t know that. And she doesn’t tell her she’ll stay, because her family needs her. Her lips press to Bella’s forehead and she sighs.
“I’ll always love you. Even if you hate us all someday. Even if you hate us by the morning. Know that, at least.”
Bella twists her head up, amber meeting chocolate brown. Her gaze is watery, hollow, but suddenly there’s determination filling that space and her damp eyelashes flutter as she bites her lip.
“Make me forget.” She angles her body into a sitting position, their faces level. “I don’t want to remember everything tonight. Just…” she rests her forehead against Alice’s, her eyes closed and her touch shaky. She needs this. “Please. Make me forget who I am.”
She finds it hard to think with Bella’s warm body nearly straddling her, her lips a hair’s breadth away and her best friend unraveling in scratchy yarn all over the place. But their lips touch, almost accidental, as if the want and gravity between them is just enough to draw them together that extra inch.
And it’s soft and quiet and frenzied and pink, all cacophony and bright shapes across her eyelids. Her fingers trace flower patterns over Bella’s stomach, her thighs, her collarbone, the blankets pulled up around them, keeping Bella warm. She was always beautiful flushed, but now her cheeks are scarlet, her spine arching off the mattress, and her eyelids flutter closed and her lips part and god, there is just nothing better than that. And it’s more than a desperate request to not be alone.
Alice is gone before sunrise, and that’s probably for the best. At least Bella didn’t have to watch her walk away.
title: angels flutter muted wings in purgatory
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): alice/rosalie
rating: r
word count: 503
prompt: slow hands for femslash_today's porn battle
spoilers: none; preseries au
It’s getting dark.
Her blood seeps into the cobblestones, red filling the gaps left behind by the boots of drunks and scavengers. Petticoats torn and skin in a similar state of disrepair, Rosalie waits to die like a working man waits for the train. She’s cold.
But then there’s a light. A light fringed in black and it’s smiling at her. Grinning like a fool who hasn’t noticed she’s dying slowly. Or an angel that’s come to take her to heaven. The angel clicks her tongue.
“Rosalie Hale.”
The blonde’s lips quiver, an affirmation crawling up her throat but never quite making it the whole way. She silently searches for her wings instead.
The angel places her cool hand on Rosalie’s cheek, slowly tracing the mostly unscathed flesh of her neck, fingers mapping out the shell of her ear. She leans forward, her lips barely grazing Rosalie’s neck.
“You’ve kept me waiting a long time.”
And then the angel’s teeth sink into her neck.
*
Immortality is loud. The neighbors’ footsteps land heavy above her and the train tracks screech and the heartbeats are everywhere, always, around them.
(Thump-thump-thump. Feed-feed-feed. )
Alice’s hands are still cold, still ice and pale and angels. The touch on her thigh is a distraction, an incentive.
It only partially works.
*
His eyes are dark with fear, or maybe it’s indignation. After all he never expected to pay for this particular crime.
Rosalie growls his name (“Royce.”), breaks each of his fingers like ill-timed graphite, like she’ll later break his neck, just to be sure that when he dies, it’ll be the former forever frozen in his pupils. But she’s haunted by another pair of eyes. God damned honey eyes. This is disappointing her, Rosalie knows. Alice finds it distasteful, degrading, poor-willed. She’s just so-
Rosalie huffs at the very idea.
She wipes her bloody hands on the skirt of her wedding dress and burns it all to hell.
*
Blood coating her throat, eyes like butter and bark digging into her back, Alice pins Rosalie with a smirk and a swish of her hips.
“You’re not the only one who can get what she wants.”
*
She puts a name to her state after four months. Dependency. Rosalie depends on Alice for her visions of clouds, her tact, her company.
Rosalie bucks against Alice’s fingers, her own hand trapping the other woman’s in place. Just in case she had any misconceptions of stopping. But it’s still Alice’s lust that ignited her own. Alice’s hooded gaze that keeps her locked in place. Alice’s venom that started this all to begin with. Alice’s dirty whispers that send her over the edge. Alice Alice Alice.
But then again it’s Rosalie that flips their positions. Rosalie that inches her hands up Alice’s dress only to find that she’s bare. Rosalie that causes Alice to hiss as she buries her fingers inside her, curling them deep until she moans her name. Rose Rose Rose. Like a chant.
Sometimes dependency isn’t so bad.
title: tops
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): alice/bella
rating: pg13
word count: 410
prompt: illegal for femslash_today's porn battle
spoilers: vague for breaking dawn
Alice pouts. And it’s not just silly because it’s a nymph in the bed of her truck in the middle of no where. Or because her lip gloss is slightly smeared and Bella’s sure that if there was a reflective surface within a ten-mile radius Alice would be horrified. But it’s mostly because the girl is partially, okay, mostly naked and she’s having the most ridiculous conversation of her life.
At least in the top five.
“Please?”
“Noooooooo.” Bella takes a breath. “No.”
“But you’re my sister!"
She smirks. “I’m pretty sure if I was your sister what we’re doing right now would be illegal in most of the fifty states.” A pause for thought. “Except maybe West Virginia.”
Alice rolls her eyes. Bella is trapped by Alice’s hips to the steel frame of her dilapidated truck they’d put out to pasture a year ago. Literally. It makes for a convenient getaway spot, a field in the middle of nowhere where no one could find them even if they tried. She gazes up, the stars a halo around Alice’s head like jewels trapped in her spikey hair. Bella can hear the trikle of water somewhere close through the smphony of insects; no other sound but nature touches them now. But that’s not the issue at hand.
This would be so much easier if she wasn’t a newborn and she could just-
“No. I can see those wheels turning, Mary Alice Brandon Cullen. Don’t even think about it.”
Alice’s expression turns devious.
“But what if I were to make it worth your while?”
Bella weighs her options. Option one: don’t give in… and have Alice bug her from now until eternity. Not promising. Option two: give in and be stuck with Alice gloating from now until eternity. Even less appealing. OR option three: let Alice get her way, but get something out of it in the meantime. I think we have a winner.
Her eyebrow arches, managing to look aloof even though her hair is fanned out behind her and yeah, so maybe she’s mostly naked too.
“What did you have in mind?”
So Bella might have gone to Fashion Week in Paris that year. There’s also a slight chance most of the runway ended up in her closet. And that Alice routinely calls for private runway showings in her bedroom. But judging from the satisfied look on Bella face when they got home that night, it was so worth it.