#witcher femslash

Fringilla/Francesca

Our Feet Make Flowers Bloom by @ahh-fxck. 638w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. Touching. Psychic abilities, tenderness.

This is gorgeous prose, so full of tenderness and poetry and oh my god, it had my heart aching for Fringilla finally having a little bit of warmth and sunlight in her life. And Francesca being so gentle and kind! It’s so good.

Three Queens by @salamanderinspace. 678w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca.Post-canon, hair-pulling, love. When Fringilla and Francesca kiss it's a study in contrasts.

This ficlet is also absolutely awe-inspiring and beautiful, full of such tenderness that makes one ache to the depths of their soul. It’s so, so lovely. The prose really does me in here and I love coming back to it when I need some beautiful softness.

Submission by LadyV_writes. 4298w. Explicit. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. “Submission can be enjoyable under the right circumstances. Trust me.”

Extraordinarily hot. Fringilla trusting Francesca enough to fall apart. ❤️ Like, 10 million kinds of hot for Francesca guiding Fringilla through the process of letting go.

A Reward by chryysaskk. 66w. Gen. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. “It’s a beautiful lullaby,” she hears her voice and she didn’t control it, but she found it sweeter than usual. She was rarely rewarded for not controlling.

This is fluff, but it’s a fluffy kind of ache since we know how canon turns out. But for a sweet, sweet moment, Fringilla and Francesca are okay and the world is full of possibilities as long as they are together.

make sure nobody sees you leave by @acemoppet TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. 260w. Mature. Angst, Secret relationship. Hurt no comfort. Kissing. “We tell no one.”

I can’t lie, I love secrets that characters keep. Secrets are hot. This is an angsty achey ficlet that made me fold in on myself. I want everything for them, but at least they can take these fleeting moments with each other.

the eye of the storm by @dancingwiththefae. 1279w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. Post-Thanedd, nudity, bathing/washing, hurt/comfort. She gently wiped away the blood. Francesca's fingers dug into her arms tight. She didn't need to say anything, the haunted expression in her eyes told her all she needed to know. All they had was each other.

The ache and hurt/comfort in this fic is so good, I read it three times. In the quietness after Thanedd, Fringilla and Francesca have each other and it’s wonderful.

wine-drunk by @limerental. 729w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. Post season 3, grief/mourning, alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort, angst. In the wake of Thanned, Fringilla and Francesca both struggle with sleep.

Love that this fic takes what we saw of Fringilla’s experience in season 3 and weaves that pain throughout. I also love it when Lim is writing Fringilla POV. This is so achey, so full of hurt and angst but Fringilla and Francesca do have each other. Even though the pain and trauma Fringilla’s been through, I’m left wondering if it’s enough.

Philippa/Triss

Into the wishy-washy dark that cannot let go by @sargassostories. 10,611w. Explicit. TWN. Philippa/Triss. Slow burn, Hanahaki disease, self-worth issues, d/s undertones, exhibitionism, domestic bliss. Triss Merigold survived the Battle of Sodden Hill-- and wished she hadn't. That is, until she experienced a mysterious mage healing her in her dreams, whose teasing, tempting touches begin to bring her back to life. Philippa Eilhart has taken a particular interest in a little witch's recovery, but what begins as a purely mercenary effort to gain an ally grows… complicated.

The hurt/comfort in this is fucking incredible. Triss is having a hard time with the world moving on after Sodden. Philippa’s own interest becoming intense and dark and twisted. The Hanahaki was weaved throughout the fic was really interesting and I thought added to the narrative of Triss’ pain and journey through the feelings and physical/psychological/emotional agonies she’d been enduring. I really fucking love this fic.

Wish such sugar’d words by @limerental. 5334w. Mature. TWN/book canon blending. Philippa/Triss. 5+1 things, lesbian political subterfuge, manipulation, pining, friends with benefits. Five times that Philippa and Triss use one another and one time perhaps that does not matter.

I always love the way lim does show/book canon blending and this fic is a great example of that. Giving just enough book elements to ground the fic in the vibes/politics/aesthetics of the world, he’s really zeroed in on the show versions of Philippa and Triss. Fic with the characters from the show always hit the sweet spot for me for this pairing because we were robbed of any canon interaction for them.

I Don’t Know How This One Ends Til I Die by Holliday_inn. 1248w. Explicit. Book canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, more angst and smut, not major character death but could be. Philippa reflects on her life and relationships when she believes something’s been lost.

The Philippa POV in this is reallllllllllllllllly amazing. I don’t usually think of Philippa experiencing emotions, and this is a great fic showcasing her almost experiencing some grief and then attempting to sidestep the pain in favor of pleasure. A really interesting character study. I love seeing how this author writes all the Lodge characters.

This Is The Way by owlhart (saidanon). 1784w. Gen. Book/game canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, softness, insecure Triss, tenderness. Philippa held her gaze, leaning forward and touching her forehead against hers as she placed Triss’ hand over her chest. The rhythmic thumping of Philippa’s heart pulsed against Triss’ fingertips, steady and soothing.  The tears fell from Triss’ eyes and Philippa shushed her gently, giving her hand a little squeeze and pressing it harder against her chest, fingers splayed between the gaps of hers. It beats - “For you and only you.”

I’d call this a relationship study and one thing I really like about this fic is how it uses the seasons to help ground the fic in the passage of time while also giving some wonderful glimpses into how Philippa Triss’ relationship looks when they’re together. It’s a poignant Triss POV, full of softness, some of Triss’ insecurities and does a great job of showing how Philippa acts in terms of love and affection.

The Rescue by finiarel. 2100w. Teen. Book canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, hurt/comfort, Triss rescuing Philippa. They had taken Philippa Eilhart. Triss Merigold with the help of others is taking her back.

!!! The whole premise of this fic is great and I gobbled it up because Triss being the one to help rescue Philippa from torture and pain is *chefs kiss* opposite of what I might first associate with these two. The hurt/comfort in this is yummy as fuck if you enjoy that trope, but of course Philippa is in this fic and so the comfort part gets turned about and Triss gets insecure and needy all over again because of how much she needs Philippa.

Here For It by beyondthesilence. 738w. Gen Book canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, hurt/comfort, owl Philippa. A one-shot about a sorceress dealing with emotions.

This fic is amazing. Short, not so sweet, but A++ glimpse at Philippa “dealing” with emotions, with an amazing ending and visual that’s gonna be stuck in my head for ages.

change of pace by scredgirl. 1285w. Explicit. Book/game canon. Philippa/Triss. PWP. Triss and Phil power dynamics. On the importance of sex as a relaxation method and the top/bottom balance in a relationship.

This is so fucking hot. Like, absolutely 100% hot with the sex but yes, especially hot look at the power dynamic in this relationship.

Focus by scredgirl. 2257w. Explicit. Book canon. Philippa/Triss. PWP. Smut at Thanedd. The banquet on Thanedd is a dramatic affair, and when Triss's mood turns sour, she can think of one good way to cope.

Thanedd PWP that I also wolfed down. It’s hot, but also this author brings an amazing look at Philippa and Triss’ power dynamic and how it plays out in another smutty scene, but with specific context of why Triss is particularly needy in that moment. This is chefs kiss hot on a character level, in addition to being fucking hot as hell with the sex.

Entanglement by Astrarian. 12262w. Game canon. Philippa/Triss. PWP. Bath sex. Post Blindingly Obvious TW3 quest. After liberating Philippa Eilhart from the bathhouse, Triss takes Philippa to her room at the Chameleon, where she can explain in private why they need Philippa's help. Talking isn't all they do.

This is shameless, utter horny PWP. Smut. It’s peak sapphic filth. It’s erotic. It’s also an incredible example of “what does the sex tell us about the characters headspace?” type of smutty fic. How do they view the world? It’s 12k long and the beginning shows the reader where Philippa and Triss are respectively in the context of The Witcher Wild Hunt game (briefly linked the side quest it’s nominally related to for skimming purposes), but the fic goes so deep into the headspace and character desires because of the smut. What Triss needs, what she wants. What Phil needs and what she also wants. The d/s in this is bar none is so fucking good I think my brain whited out.

I also need to repeat: this is so very extremely, extremely horny and sexy. 🔥🔥🔥

Previously on Kuwdora's Witcher Recs:

Villains and Bad Guys Part 1

Gone was the young student Tissaia had known at Aretuza. Gone was her colleague, her friend, and the lover who had cared enough to insert herself in Tissaia’s life time and time again with a regularity and casualness that Tissaia had come to appreciate. But that was before Thanedd.

Here was Enid an Glenna, the Daisy of the Valley. A leader to her people. As poised and incisive as the woman Tissaia once intimately knew, but she was still Francesca to Tissaia.

The mid-afternoon air was still quite warm but Tissaia adjusts the blanket in her lap. The circulation in her lower body was still quite poor and she was forced to wear layers regardless of the temperature. Tissaia had expended her Chaos and nearly depleted her life. It left her body in shambles. The amulet Francesca’s healer had donned upon Tissaia reduced the inflammation in her joints and helped regulate her body temperature, but it could only do so much.

She had considered tossing the amulet aside and reopen the bandages before Francesca or her servants could return.

Tissaia was—is—is, she keeps reminding herself—the oldest sorceress on the Continent, and for the last few weeks she has felt every one of her years. But Tissaia knew, as her eyes roamed the openness of the valley, her eyes drawn to the craggy line of mountain and yellowing grasses, she would not allow herself to be found in such a state. Wearing clothes that were not her own. In Francesca’s home. Being attended by Francesca’s servants. No, Tissaia would not open the bandages. She couldn’t. She was trapped.

The ache lingers in her chest, that loss of her dignity.

Francesca settles in the chair beside Tissaia and the ocelat slinks away and settles on a rug to bathe in the afternoon sun. In Francesca's lap was a box with elegant handles and elven knotwork burned into the wood.

“I was just thinking about what comes next,” Yennefer says, hoping to draw her into conversation about the future. “Now that we’re both free of the things that were tying us down.”

“Oh.” Renfri’s voice is dull—sulky, perhaps, Yennefer thinks. She returns her gaze to the mug of ale she’s holding onto like a lifeline.

From the next room, a gust of laughter rises up, accompanied by the sound of tankards clanking together—Renfri’s men toasting another round. Renfri listens to the murmur of their conversation with a look Yennefer can’t quite read, somewhere between longing and regret.

“You should rejoin them,” Yennefer suggests. Perhaps their ribald company will cheer her up.

Renfri stands as if to go, then stops, and turns to fix Yennefer with a searching look. “You’re going to leave, then?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Yennefer says, wonderingly.

“Of course,” Renfri echoes sourly. Yennefer sees her free hand clench into a fist.

“Naturally, it’ll be some time before it’s safe to venture out. But once the coast is clear, yes.” She smiles. “I have big plans for the future.”

In a gesture that takes Yennefer entirely by surprise, Renfri flings her half-empty mug aside and kicks at her chair. The chair clatters over with a crash and goes still, and then they are both staring at the foamy dregs of her drink spreading across the floorboards.

“What in Melitele’s name—”

“I don’t want you to go.” Renfri is made suddenly vulnerable by her outburst, standing there flexing her hands to stop them from trembling.

Really, what’s gotten into the girl? She worried Renfri might not know what to do with herself without her hatred of Stregobor to hold onto, but she didn’t expect her to come completely unraveled.

“Did you really think we were going to spend the rest of our lives holed up here?” She gestures with her goblet to the gloomy room, which is serviceable enough as a temporary hideaway but can hardly offer to the creature comforts Yennefer’s come to expect.

“Please,” Renfri says in a small, uneasy voice that sounds like it’s crawling its way out of her throat. She’s not used to asking for what she wants, Yennefer thinks. In her life, she’s had to fight for whatever she got, and defend what she had with blood. “Please don’t leave me.”

Oh, what a perfect fool Yennefer’s been. “Renfri, dear.” Very carefully, she sets her goblet down and holds out her arms to Renfri. “Come here.”

Haltingly, Renfri steps closer, until Yennefer can enfold her in an embrace. She’s still shaking, and stiff as a board, but slowly she lets herself relax against Yennefer’s body.

“I promise,” Yennefer says into the waves of Renfri’s hair, so soft now that Yennefer’s cleaned her up properly, “that when I leave, it won’t be without you.”

Renfri lets loose a punched-out sound, and Yennefer can feel her tears where Renfri’s face is pressed to her neck. She strokes her hair and holds her tight while she cries—more tears of relief, like that first night. The start, Yennefer thinks, of something new.

When Renfri pulls away, she’s red-faced, her nose dripping, and so lovely, her whole face lit up with a hopeful expression Yennefer’s never seen there before. “You mean it?”

“I do.”

Renfri smiles, then—not the tight-lipped, ironical smiles she was prone to before, but a wide, radiant grin. “Good,” she says, and leans forward to kiss Yennefer.

With a pang of regret, Yennefer eases her away, shaking her head. The hurt in Renfri’s eyes is palpable, and Yennefer’s heart twists. It’s not as if Yennefer doesn’t find her attractive, with her wide brown eyes and quick wit. But she’s so young, and still so very raw. Perhaps if things were different—but as it is, she’d only be taking advantage, and she won’t do that to Renfri.

She strokes Renfri’s cheek and says, “You deserve better than that, dear girl.” Renfri closes her eyes and turns her face into Yennefer’s hand.

“But you won’t leave?” Renfri says, her voice gone small again.

“No,” Yennefer affirms. “As I said, I have big plans for the two of us.”