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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

I just died laughing over ur last ficlet with geraskier as demons seducing each other. The set up was so good. And the ending *chef's kiss* 😂😂😂

The demon AU was a lot of fun to write and I wish I had a follow-up to that story. Alas, that seems to be a standalone story. However, I can offer you some idiots being, well, idiots.

It was just Eskel’s luck that he got to a village only to hear that the contract had already been snatched up by another witcher. Still, he was in a village with a tavern that had music and a bard who seemed to be whipping the crowd into a merry frenzy so Eskel risked staying for a drink and some food. If the other witcher objected to his presence, he could at least leave on a full stomach and a song stuck in his head. Because the bard was good, infuriatingly so. More like the kind that should be in a royal court than in a nameless backwater village. Maybe he was on the run, did something stupid like sleep with the wrong wife and now had a price on his head. it was none of Eskel’s business even if he liked to guess scenarios.

The set wound down and Eskel pulled his hood tighter around his face now that the music no longer distracted people from their surroundings. Hopefully the crowd was in too good a mood to chase him out. He didn’t expect someone to sit down opposite him and push a tankard across the table.

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood.” It was said so teasingly, Eskel’s eyes flashed from under his hood, surprise stretching his scars across his cheek. “Don’t worry,” the man was quick to reassure, “you’re safe with me.”

As if a witcher was safe with a bard. There was no protection a bard could offer but Eskel still gave him a thorough once over.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the bard said with a wide grin, “I am-”

“You’re Geralt’s bard.” He could recognise the bruised teeth marks on the bard’s neck in a heartbeat. Especially when he had worn the very same marks quite proudly over winter. Not that Eskel was jealous. It wasn’t like he and Geralt had anything more than a winter romance each year.

“I prefer to think of Geralt as my witcher actually.” There was a slightly offended tone to the bard’s voice. “At least he talks of me, I guess that’s a positive. I’m Jaskier.”

“Eskel.”

Introductions made, there was a brief moment of silence and Eskel thought Jaskier would leave. Instead, it seemed Jaskier just getting comfortable and taking a deep drink from his own tankard.

“So, was it the wonderful singing that tipped you off as to who I was?”

Eyes on Jaskier’s neck, Eskel shook his head. “There’s not many people Geralt would mark as his own. Really, out on The Path, it’s just you.”

The unsaid implication that there were others Geralt would mark when not on The Path probably went over Jaskier’s head. Or not, as his eyes darkened.

“Well-” a long finger traced the rim of a tankard, “-seeing as Geralt has taken the only contract, I feel bad about having you get here only to find there’s nothing worthwhile in this village.”

If Eskel didn’t know better, he would have thought Jaskier was coming onto him. He obviously didn’t know better because Jaskier leaned closer, a hand popping a button on his already indecently open doublet.

“You’re his bard,” Eskel bit out and hastily tried to drain his drink so he could escape. There were a lot of things he was willing to do but he didn’t want to cross Geralt.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Jaskier’s eyes were dark. “I call him my witcher. But he has in no way claimed me as his bard. I’m open for the taking because he hasn’t got the message that I could be his.”

“I’ll leave him a message,” Eskel growled under his breath. If Jaskier was offering so openly, he would be a fool to turn him down. “You got a room?”

The way Jaskier jumped up, emptying his drink in a few quick gulps spoke volumes about his enthusiasm and Eskel knew he’d made the right choice. Even back at Kaer Morhen he and Geralt weren’t exclusive. They shared Lambert and even Aiden if he was there and in the mood. A hand around his wrist and Eskel was being tugged towards the rooms at the back. Someone even wolf whistled Jaskier and Eskel fought down a blush.

In the room he could smell Geralt, saw evidence of him having been by however that was quickly wiped from Eskel’s mind in favour of the world narrowing down to Jaskier.

The bed ended up smelling heavily of them and the throw had to be thrown to the ground as it had ended up covered in come. It was worth it though, especially when Eskel looked at Jaskier’s throat and, on the opposite side to Geralt’s fading mark, was an imprint of his own teeth. If Geralt missed the permeating smell, he would hopefully see Eskel’s message at least.

“Geralt better bring you to Kaer Morhen in the winter,” he murmured as he held Jaskier, both of them sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. “If he refuses, tell him you’ll be my guest and need escorting.”

“I’ll be there.”

Waiting until Jaskier was asleep, Eskel slipped out of the room and went to collect Scorpion. He didn’t want to waste money on a room of his own and he didn’t really want to be there when Geralt returned. Well, he did a little, just to see his reaction to the bite mark but by being there, the surprise would be somewhat ruined. It was easier to get ahead and have a few hours’ advantage over Geralt.

The sun was rising and Eskel was napping off the side of the road in a patch of soft moss when he heard the sound of hooves, accompanied by a lute. It couldn’t be an accident that Geralt and Jaskier were headed that way. Which meant Geralt had received the message.

Stepping out onto the road, Eskel had his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised.

Never a man of many words, Geralt dismounted and marched up to Eskel who stood his ground. A glove covered hand reached and gripped the back of Eskel’s neck, pulling him in. First it was just to rest their foreheads together but then the hand slipped to cup Eskel’s cheek and lips brushed against his. One soft kiss turned into something more forceful as if Geralt was making a point. By the time he pulled away, the were pressed chest to chest and Geralt’s thigh had slipped between Eskel’s.

“Can’t believe you didn’t wait for me.” Geralt’s voice was a low rasp. “Leave my bard all marked up but leave before I get back.”

“Oh, so I am your bard?” Jaskier was smiling, lounging against a tree and openly appreciating the view before him. “About time I got some recognition around here.”

“Shut up.” Geralt was almost smiling. “If you’re not careful, I’ll bring you to Kaer Morhen for winter. Then you’ll be the Wolf School’s bard.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Eskel barked out a laugh, head thrown back which turned breathless as Geralt nipped at his throat. The light brush of teeth turned to something harder and Eskel’s knees almost buckled as his hips rocked against Geralt’s thigh. The bastard stepped away, leaving Eskel high and dry.

“Come home for winter.” Geralt smirked and hopped up onto Roach. “Until then, Wolf.”

With a cheeky wave, Jaskier turned to follow Roach, sauntering after Geralt and already strumming a new tune.

Rubbing his throat, Eskel watched them leave. The mark smarted, a nice reminder of what he could expect, come winter. Even better, when he finally made it there, Jaskier was lounging in Aiden’s lap, both of them looking every bit like the cats who got the cream.

#geraskier #eskeralt #jaskel #geralt/jaskier/eskel #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #witchersexual jaskier #biting #marking #tldr: bite marks are a form of communication

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

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Your dad!witchers drabble was just *chef kiss*. Could please write how they would react throughout reader's pregnancy? It would warm my heart to see Eskel fussing over a heavily pregnant reader 😭😍

A/N: I am soooo going to have to do more Eskel x pregnant!reader!!

Warning: pregnant reader, extreme fluff

Add yourself to my taglist here!! I’ve redone everything so unless you go to the link provided, you will no longer be tagged in any of my work. If you have any questions, please message me!

Lambert

You shifted around. The sound of someone whispering was pulling you out of your sleep. You reached out to put your hand on Lambert but you found the pillows devoid of the witcher.

You opened your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. You could feel his hand, rough and cold, against your stomach. You looked down to see that he was lying further down in the bed, putting his face level with your stomach. His hand had slipped between your chemise and your stomach. His thumb stroked gentle circles into your stretched out abdomen.

“Lambert?” You half whined, looking down at him.

“Fuck off, bug. I’m having a conversation.”

You smacked the back of his head, giggling softly as he grabbed your hand before you could pull away.

“She’s so mean to me.” He whispered, warm breath tickling your stomach.

“What are you doing?” You pried your hand from his grip to brush your fingers through his dark hair.

“Talking to the baby.”

“What are you telling them?”

“That you’re an asshole to me.”

“Lambert!”

“I’m kidding.” He chuckled. “Only a little.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips.

“I hope it’s a girl.” You told him.

“I hope it isn’t.” He shifted up in the bed so that he was laying correctly with his head in the pillows. His golden eyes flickered up to you. He reached out to brush a piece of Y/H/C hair over your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” You sighed gently, scooting closer to him to bury your face in his chest. “Maybe if someone didn't wake me up….” You teased.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. One of his arms slipped around you, his palm pressing against the small of your back. “Is your back still hurting?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“M’sorry.” He mumbled, letting the words be muffled by your hair.

You knew very well how guilty he felt that you were aching and hurting and in pain because you were pregnant. Sure he was rough around the edges and intimacy wasn’t his forte, but he knew when to be gentle and soft with you. He knew when all you needed was a kiss and a gentle hand rubbing whatever part of your body ached more. He wanted to take the pain away, to relieve you of the burden he deemed his doing.

Little did he know that you didn’t view the pain as a burden. It came with being pregnant. It came with being a mother–and a new one at that. You were willing to bear the aches and pains until your baby was here.

“Don’t be sorry.” You closed your eyes, melting further into his chest. “I’m going to be okay.”

“Just don’t like the idea of you hurting.” His thumb on your lower back began to trace little circles in the material of your chemise.

“Aw, you’re so sweet.”

He grumbled a string of curse words under his breath and started to pull away.

“No! No, Lambert! I was joking!”

“Asshole.”

“You’re the asshole. You aren’t going anywhere.” Your fingers fisted the material of his shirt, forcing him to stay.

“You’re the asshole.” He muttered, allowing you to settle back into his arms.

“You better learn to watch your mouth when the baby comes.”

“Or what? Gonna spank me?”

“If you want.” You grinned, pulling your head from his chest to see the look on his face.

“Fucking hell, bug.” He rolled his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his face.

“You’re the one who said it. Maybe we could try it-,”

You squeaked as he pinched your backside. You smacked him in the chest, causing a deep chuckle to vibrate in his throat.

“We aren’t trying anything that involves you spanking me.” He assured you.

“Damn.” You feigned disappointment with a frown on your lips.

His eyes met yours. You found yourself gazing into his gold irises, lost in how stunning they were.

“You’re going to be a great father.” You leaned up to kiss his scarred cheek. Your words were sincere and gentle, a reminder that you cared for him and you loved him.

“You think so?”

“Mmmh. Maybe.” The tone in your voice changed to let him know you were teasing him.

“Asshole.” He dipped his head down to catch your lips in a kiss.

Eskel

Eskel pushed the front door to the little cottage shut with his foot then moved to put the basket of produce from the market on the table.

“Hey, doll? I’m back.” He called, glancing around the main room. There was no answer. “Y/N?”

His heart was the only one beating in the cottage. He was alone. Worried, the witcher began to move around the cottage, down the hall and into each room. You weren’t anywhere to be found.

As he was returning to the main room, he picked up your scent, sweet and intoxicating lavender. He followed the scent trail out of the cottage and around to the backyard.

Eskel found you sitting on your knees in the garden, pulling weeds away from the wheat.

He approached the garden fence, spotting Lil Bleater on the other side of the fence, crying out because she couldn’t get into the garden to eat the herbs.

Eskel whistled for the goat and she turned her head in his direction, bleating rather loudly. She kicked her back legs before trotting around the fence to his side.

You looked up and spotted him.

“How was today’s market?” You asked, beginning to stand to your feet.

Eskel was beside you in a second, having jumped the fence, and offered you his arm as leverage. You gladly placed your hand upon his forearm, letting him help you to your feet.

“Busy and crowded. You shouldn’t be out here when I’m not home.”

“Oh, Eskel. You worry too much.” You put your hand on his cheek, your thumb ghosting over the scarred corner of his lips. His eyes closed at the tender touch. You pressed a velvet kiss to his lips. “I’m just fine.”

You began to walk out of the garden.

“But what if something happened?” He followed along right beside you, his hand on your lower back. “There could be a-a wild dog or someone looking for trouble. There’s plenty of people in town that don’t like me being here.”

“And they can answer to me if they’ve got a problem with it.” You assured him, though your words did more to worry him than to comfort him.

“No, no, they won’t. I don’t want you dealing with any of those assholes.”

“Eskel, I’m just pregnant.”

“That’s my point.” He opened the door to the cottage for you but he never took his hand off of your back. “Y/N.” He stopped you just inside, his hand on your arm. “You’re pregnant with-with my child. If anything were to happen to you….”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

You could see all of his fears clouding his mind, reminding him that you weren’t immortal or even a witcher. You were human, and humans were fragile.

“Eskel, I’m going to be okay.” You held his hand tightly then leaned up on your toes to place a velvet kiss on the scarred corner of his lips. “We are going to be okay.”

His hand found your ballooned stomach, scarred and calloused fingers spreading out to hold as much of you as he could. He pressed his forehead to yours, a heavy breath expelling from his lungs.

“Just…. Just can’t lose you. Either of you.”

“You won’t.” You brushed your hand over his chest, your fingers bumping into the medallion. “I love you, Eskel.”

He held his breath for a moment. Even after all these years, it was still difficult for him to hear those words directed at him, to have your kindness directed at him. His life felt so surreal like a dream he never wanted to wake up from. He was undeserving of you, of the joy and happiness you brought him.

“Love you more.” He whispered, pulling away from you for a moment to kiss your forehead.

Geralt

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” Geralt asked as he approached the table Eskel and Lambert were at. Eskel was polishing his swords while Lambert kept himself occupied by talking. The young witcher was leaning back in his seat, balancing on two legs while he propped his boots up on the table.

“She’s kinda hard to miss.” Lambert glanced up from the dagger in his hand. “Ya know.” He made a circle with his arms, symbolizing your extremely swollen and very pregnant stomach. “She’s huge.”

Eskel shook his head while Geralt easily knocked Lambert’s feet off of the table, causing the chair he was in to lose balance and him to fall backwards.

“Ah! You bastard!” Lambert grunted.

“Serves you right.” Eskel sighed. “Haven’t seen Y/N, Geralt.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Lambert stood to his feet and picked the chair up. “She’s just big, okay? Isn’t that an appropriate term for her condition?”

“I’m pregnant, Lambert, not sick with some disease.” You spoke as you crossed the room. A basket was in the crook of your elbow.

“Oh, uh, hey, Y/N.” Lambert waved at you. You rolled your eyes, knowing he’d probably done or said something stupid by the sound of his voice.

“Hi, Lambert. Thank you, again, for reminding me how big I’ve gotten.”

“Anytime.”

“Where’ve you been?” Geralt moved to your side, brows drawn together in concern. He took the basket from you.

“I was out picking berries to make a pie or two.” You answered him. “Then I went down to the lake to clean them.”

“You left the keep without one of us?” Geralt’s eyes widened as he looked at you.

“I’ve done it plenty of times before. Put the basket down on the table, please.”

“But you weren’t pregnant any of those other times, Y/N. What if something had happened?”

“Nothing did, so it’s fine.” You insisted.

Geralt’s lips pressed together in a line as he watched you, wanting to go on and on and on about how dangerous it was and list all of the possible scenarios that would put you and his unborn child at risk.

As he watched you take the bowl of damp berries from the basket, he noticed a cut on your hand. It was fresh but had just stopped bleeding.

Without a word, he took your wrist in his hand and pulled your hand closer to his face so he could examine the wound.

“What happened?”

“Just a thorn from the bush.” You told him. “Geralt, I’m fine. We are fine.”

A hum vibrated in his chest.

“Eskel, I think that wind storm last night messed up the enclosure for the goats.” You looked over to the witcher. “I’d mess with it but Lil Bleater can be an asshole. I don’t want her butting against my legs or something and knocking me over. My sense of balance is shit right now.”

“Wasn’t very good before the baby either.” Lambert said but you ignored him.

“You don’t need to be messing with anything right now, Y/N.” Eskel told you as he stood to his feet. “All you should be worried about is that baby.”

“Well, someone has to keep you boys in check.” You teased, smiling a little. “Thank you, Eskel.”

“Yeah, of course.” The witcher nodded. “Come on, Lambert.”

“What?”

“I’m sure I could use the extra hands.”

“She asked you to go, not me.”

“You’re going to get yourself into trouble if you stay in here.” Eskel warned.

Lambert looked over to you and Geralt, opening his mouth as if he was about to say something that would prove Eskel right. Geralt was glaring at the young witcher, silently begging him to say something else that was offensive to you so that Geralt could throw something at his head.

“Right. To the goats.” Lambert sighed, pushing himself to his feet.

“Prick.” Geralt muttered as he watched the two witchers leave.

“He means well, love.” You smiled.

“He’s always doing it though.”

“He’s been like that since I met him. He’s doing nothing wrong.”

“Commenting on your size isn’t right.”

“Well, my dear witcher, not everyone has manners and common sense.” You reached up to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing across his stubbly skin. “Is Vesemir back yet?”

“I wasn’t aware he left.” Geralt took a seat at the table you stood at and watched you pick through the berries, pulling out any bad ones you accidentally picked.

“He was making a trip to the village and I asked him to get me a few things for the pie. I can’t start it until he gets back.”

“You’ll be lucky if he’s back before sundown.”

Vesemir had a reputation for taking too long when going to the village. There was an alchemy shop near the village and apparently the old witcher had made friends with the old shopkeeper decades ago. The two would talk and talk for days if they had it their way.

“Should’ve sent Eskel with him.” You sighed, deciding to take a seat next to Geralt.

You didn’t realize how much you hurt until you sat down. Your ankles ached and there was a sharp pain in your knees. Your lower back had steadily been hurting all day but now as you sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair, the pain grew.

Geralt noticed the way your eyes closed tightly and you leaned forward a little, one hand resting on your stomach while the other rested on your knee.

“Are you okay, dove?”

“M’fine.” You opened your eyes and turned your head to him. “Just sore is all.”

“Did you walk all the way down to the lake?” Geralt placed his large hand on your back.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to manage getting on Roach.” You joked, but the White Wolf did not find the joke amusing. “Walking is good for me, Geralt.”

“What if something had happened while you were making the journey down there or even on your way back up? You know there are forktails in the mountains.”

“And bears and wolves and drowners.” You nodded. “But Geralt-,”

“If something had happened to you, how do you think that would’ve made me feel?” He cut you off, his voice devoid of any joking. When you looked away from him, he took hold of your chin and turned your head back towards him. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quietly, eyes flickering down to his lips. “I’ll take someone with me next time.”

“There is no next time.” Geralt shook his head. “The terrain is too much for you. Your balance is complete shit right now and you trip over everything.”

You rolled your eyes at him, leaning against his arm.

“If I tripped and fell down the mountain, I’d never stop. I’m the size of a boulder. I’d cause an avalanche.”

Geralt sighed, rubbing his eyes.

Taglist: @thefishmongersdaughterwrites @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @ayamenimthiriel @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway

If your URL is in italics, it would not let me tag you :(

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

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Delicate

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Reader, Lambert/Reader, Eskel/Reader

Word Count:

Rating: E (kinda)

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request [So I had this idea for a drabble: aftercare with the witchers boys. I think Eskel would be so soft 😭] i am so sorry this took so freakin long it has been a MOMENT.

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: discussion of smutty things, softe aftercare for the boys

Each of the three Witchers need something different, and you are more than happy to provide.

Geralt

Geralt has taken you apart and pieced you back together over the course of the night with a vigor that could rival the diligence of the sun in its quest to drench the earth in light. Now, as he finally softens within you, his hands relax from where they had previously been digging into the meat of your hips. He is slotted up behind you, his breath still coming in warm gasps against the back of your neck.

You shift to get up and clean yourself, but Geralt only wraps his arm more firmly around your waist, holding you tight to him. You exhale a short whine as his length slips from the snug velvet of your core, already missing the exorbitant fullness that he offers.

“Geralt?” you murmur, tracing your finger lightly up his forearm, watching the muscles jump and twitch under his skin. “Please love, I’m gonna be all sticky in the morning.”

Geralt hums, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “Can’t have that, can we?”

He unwinds his arm from around you, leaving an unyielding void of warmth when he pushes himself off of the bed. You watch as a few candles suddenly flicker with life as Geralt passes by them, marveling at how the light dances down his back and over his hips.

As if sensing your eyes on him Geralt turns around, catching your gaze with a crook of his brow. Not a single word spills from his lips, but you have learned how to read the detailed language of his expressions, no matter how minute.

“Just admiring the view, darling.” Geralt smirks just the teeniest bit, turning back to his task. He pulls a clean cloth from a drawer and dips it in the jug of water that you keep on the dresser. Geralt returns to your side, kneeling on the bed as he reverently runs the rag over your skin. You run your own hand up the length of his thigh, brushing past the nasty scar on the inside of his leg. You relish these moments when you can feel him under your skin, even your bones sighing into the relief that having him here brings.

The rag is draped over the back of a chair to dry and Geralt not-necessarily gracefully flops onto the bed on his stomach. You chuckle, sidling up to him and running your fingers up his spine. Your nails scratch lightly up the base of his skull, threading into his hair. The two of you lay in silence for who knows how long as you carefully undo the tangles in the shiny silver threads atop his head.

“What is on your mind, little magpie?” Geralt’s voice is husky and low with exhaustion, his eyes still closed and his face the picture of relaxation.

You take a deep breath, only allowing a moment to collect your thoughts. “Will you stay long this time?”

Geralt sighs, shifting only a bit to burrow further into his pillow. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll be leaving as the sun rises, the Path calls.”

You hum, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Come, then, let me linger in this a while longer.”

Geralt turns away from you, pressing his hips back into yours. You fit your nose to sit right at the nape of his neck as your hand reaches up to rest above his heart. Geralt’s own hand joins yours, twining your fingers together as the both of you relax into each other. You can feel the slow, steady beating of his heart with every rise and fall of his breath.

“I will miss you.” His chest rumbles with the words, clearly only moments away from slipping into sleep.

“And I you, my dear. And I will be here, waiting for your return.”

Lambert

“Fuck, Lambert,” you gasp, sagging heavily into the pillows around your head, “that was amazing.”

Said Witcher laughs heartily, falling to your side and laying on his back. The muscles of his arm swell as it is thrown over his forehead, his chest heaving with every deep breath he takes. “Hmm, you can say that again swee-what the fuck are you doing?”

You meet his eyes, golden orbs swirling with incredulity as you nestle into his side, lightly scratching your fingers through the dark thatch of hair on his chest. You take his arm and wrap it around your back, resting your head over his heart. “I’m cuddling with you? Is this ok?”

Lambert blinks owlishly, his hand stiff where it sits on your waist. “I-I just never really get this part. Most women can’t wait to get me out of their beds.”

“Well,” you whisper, “it’s a good thing that I am not most women.”

Lambert’s thumb moves hesitantly along the soft skin on your hip, gaining confidence when you nuzzle into him and wrap yourself around him tighter. You can feel him relax into you ever so slowly, not quite sure how to let himself fully give in to your affection.

“Please, Lambert,” you press your lips against his skin, feeling the course of life tingling just beneath the surface, “allow yourself this.”

Lambert huffs, moving his hand from your waist up to your head, smoothing his fingers through your hair and down your shoulder. Your eyes begin to droop as your focus is pulled to the gentle movements, so different from how he typically carries himself.

He won’t settle like this, he never does. And when you wake in the morning, Lambert will still be in bed, but he will have rolled onto his side facing away from you with a veritable ocean of space between the two of you. And he will have stolen all of the blankets.

Eskel

Eskel’s teeth release from the tender skin of your neck as his cock softens within you, his lips soothing the bite mark. He whispers praises where he lays atop you, crowding you into the bedroll over the forest floor.

You turn your head, catching his lips for a kiss. It is slow, languid, dripping with the sweetness of freshly harvested honey. Your hands rove over Eskel’s form, up his arms and into the soft waves of his hair, down his neck and over the rough skin of the scar on his cheek. You cheekily lick over where the scar notches into his lip, knowing the skin there is extra sensitive. Eskel growls, his hands tightening where they rest on your hips.

He returns to your neck, nosing to the spot right behind your ear and breathing deeply. “Gods, you smell so nice. I could stay here forever,” he hums, his chest rumbling with what could be compared to a purr.

“While I think that sounds lovely in practice, dear,” you whisper, squeezing his shoulders lightly, “you are squishing me.”

‘Mmm, but I’m terribly comfortable, I can’t even begin to imagine moving…”

“Eskel!” you laugh, pushing half-heartedly against him. It is like gently shoving a mountain, but he relents, rolling over to lay next to you on his side. He pulls you with him, tangling his legs with yours and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You wrap your arm around his waist and snuggle into his chest, your nose brushing over the cool medallion that hangs around his neck.

“The stars are beautiful tonight…” Eskel murmurs, trailing his fingers along your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You hum in response, allowing your body to meld into his as you drift lazily on the edge of consciousness.

“The love I have for you burns with a light that not a single one of those stars could dare to rival.” Eskel’s voice is small, a timid thing fighting to breach his lips. You tilt your head up to look deep into those golden eyes that shine even in the blackest night, finding them already gazing down at you.

“Hmm, fancy yourself a poet now?” You smile, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. Eskel sighs into it, a release of tension that allows him to finally relax into your arms. The two of you move slowly, the flight of petals on a breeze that carries them far and wide.

“You make me want to write poetry,” Eskel replies, nuzzling you back into his chest with his fingers in your hair. The sound of his heart, a low thud every four seconds, lulls you into a peaceful sleep, surrounded by your poetic Witcher.

#geralt x reader #lambert x reader #eskel x reader #smut #sort of #aftercare #softe witcher times

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aenwoedbeannaa · 4 years

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A Curse Meant to Be Broken | Part 5

Summary: Geralt and his companion spend some time alone at Kaer Morhen, but reality interrupts.

Warning: Smut, mentions of assault/abuse (very vague)

A/N: Ok, I know this took forever, but here we are. I had so much fun getting back into this story. I have to admit, I think it’s my favorite. Thanks for reading, yada yada--kofi here, masterlist here, taglist here. Enjoy!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

En’ca Minne

Geralt’s lips against yours, warmth radiating from his strong, firm body. His scent, comforting and alluring. Your brain bad short-circuited; those are the only things you can focus on. The kiss is soft and gentle but full of need all at once—a mess of contradictions, like the Witcher with the stone face but the heart of gold, like the girl who’d been naught more than a slave only a month ago, timid and terrified but able to battle a noonwraith and come out of it alive.

It is all lips and tongues and teeth as the two of you seemingly attempt to drink each other in, as if you can somehow fuse yourselves into one. The pad of his thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away the tears of rage that had started to cool and dry there.

Your hand clutched wildly at the open collar of his shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin—to feel the slow, steady heartbeat. One of his tangled in your hair, holding you with pressure that was firm but not forceful.

Neither of you had the capacity to think about anything else—certainly not about Lambert and Eskel in the next room, who had let worry blind them enough that they didn’t wait and listen; didn’t use those Witcher senses as they should have. Then again, neither you nor Geralt, with Witcher’s hearing of his own, registered the hurried steps coming from the room over. Neither of you heard them calling your names as they rushed down the hallway.

“Geralt, what’s going—“ Eskel stopped, holding up his hand towards Lambert, who’d been slower to follow, though he made it to the open doorway, anyway.

“Oh,” Lambert said quite loudly, stopped in the middle of the doorway.

The two of you, who hadn’t even managed it to get up off the floor, zapped apart as if lighting had struck, both breathing heavy.

Your face burns with embarrassment—from what you’d overheard, it didn’t seem like they liked you very much, and now this. You’d very much like to disappear into the wall. But neither says anything for a moment, until the older looking one simply shoots Geralt a knowing look and says, “Sorry, Wolf.”

He pulls the door shut behind himself and the younger one, leaving you and Geralt alone. Face still burning, you pull your knees up against your chest, burying your head. “Gods, I- I’m sorry.”

Geralt, on the other hand, just laughs, once again closing the distance between the two of you. “Sorry for what?” You can hear his smile as he scoots closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You can’t quite manage to lift your head to look at him, so you speak into your knees, “Causing a scene.”

Geralt chuckles, fingers brushing through your hair, “A kiss isn’t quite a scene, Y/N.”

You sigh heavily, finally lifting your head from the cocoon you’d made yourself. Your face is still burning hot, flushed with embarrassment, but also with excitement. Despite the embarrassment, you would very much like for things to continue. You feel an unfamiliar flutter in your belly—a tingle in your whole body that you’d never felt before. When Stephic had thrown you at men, you’d never felt like this. You’d never felt anything. You’d blocked it all out, pretended like it wasn’t happening at all.

But with Geralt… You look at him and you just want to touch every inch of him, for him to touch every inch of you. The two of you lock eyes, and that feeling increases tenfold.

“You are beautiful when you blush,” the Witcher purrs, moving to stand up and wrapping his arms around you—still careful not to touch the fading marks across your back—and pulls you up with him. Of course, his words only make your heart rate faster; make your cheeks feel even hotter. Though, it seems he likes that reaction, because he hooks the fingers of one hand under your chin, tilting your head up so he can look straight into your eyes.

For a moment, he simply holds your gaze. His eyes are soft, warm, comforting—he looked at you the way you’d always dreamed a man would look at you, in a way that you thought was just a fantasy. Something that would never happen—not for someone like you.

Then, he leans in closer, leaving only the slightest bit of space between your lips and his. You lips tremble slightly, tears threatening to slip from your eyes. They aren’t sad tears, of course. Despite the poison making its way through your veins this very moment, nothing matters except the Witcher before you. You expect him to crash his lips to yours, but he does something quite different. He offers you a small smile before placing a kiss to each side of your face, just where the tears have escaped from your eyes despite the desperate attempts to hide them.

He kisses each one, lips soft and gentle, before pulling back slightly, his look turning more serious, but remaining warm as ever. “You are allowed to cry, you know,” he says, “You’ve been through so much… So much I wish I could have protected you from.”

At that, something snaps within you and tears start to flow, no chance of blinking them back. But you shake your head, laughing slightly. “Oh, Witcher,” you say, “I’m not crying because I am upset. I’m crying because… I… I never thought that I would have… this.”

Geralt moves his hands to cup each side of your face, the pad of each thumb brushing away tears. He leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head and you smile, leaning into him, leaning into his touch. This time, when he tilts your head up to look at him, your eyes meet his for a moment before they shift to his full lips. He smiles that little smirk of a smile you’ve come to love so much and leans in, bringing his lips gently to yours.

He holds you like you are delicate, something that might break if he squeezes too tight, and his lips move against yours in much the same manner. When he parts your lips with his tongue, he does it softly, first tracing your lower lip with the tip of his tongue, making you sigh and melt into him and taking advantage of your parted lips to gently explore your mouth.

Your hands rest on his chest, one directly over his heart. You press your palm against him, letting your fingers gently explore, enjoying the slow, steady beat of his heart. You smile into the kiss and Geralt pulls away for just a moment, looking down at you for a moment, “What is it?”

“Your heart,” you say with a sweep of her thumb, “It beats so slowly. Steadily.”

When Geralt reaches out a hand and places it over your heart, you gasp softly. The warmth of his hand over your heart has your heart beating wildly. “And yours is beating fast as a rabbit’s.”

You can’t quite suppress the giggle as Geralt leans over to kiss you quickly, “Do I make you so nervous?”

Your blush gives you away, so Geralt doesn’t wait long enough for you to answer before he brings his lips to your neck. You head seems to tilt back of its own accord as a soft moan escapes your lips. At the sound, Geralt hums appreciatively as his lips and tongue move over you neck, coaxing more of the sounds from your lips.

Your hands tangle in his hair is as his arms wrap around you, lifting you up into the air and carrying you over to the large bed you’d not yet had a chance to lay in. You get the impression that if your back were not still injured, he would toss you down onto the soft bed. Instead, he gently bends at the waist, placing you on the bed.

You blink up at him, enjoying the view, enjoying his gentle weight on you as he rests most of it on his forearms. Your breathing is heavy, contrasting with his even, measured breaths. But you could see from the fire in his amber eyes that he was feeling everything you were—his Witcher senses were just better at hiding it.

One of his hands moving to unlace your top hand you breathing even harder as he pressed his lips to yours once more. Now, I it feels like you cannot breathe at all, but you don’t care. You don’t need air, you just need him.

When he manages to unlace the soft material of your nightdress, his lips trail back down, first your jaw, then your neck and lower, to your collarbone, and then to the bare skin of your chest as he pushes the material out of his way. You let out a heavy sigh that turns into a moan as his lips and tongue trace your skin, moving ever closer to your nipple. When he gently pulls it into his mouth, flicking the hardened nub, you barely even register the moan that escapes your lips. Your brain is focused only on Geralt, and on his mouth.

He laughs, a low rumbling sound, and flicks his eyes up to meet yours, “You make the loveliest sounds when my mouth is on you.” His voice is low and husky in a way you’d never heard it before.

“It’s just, I—” you gasp out as he turns his attention to your other breast, letting his finger trace soft circles around the one he’d just lavished with attention, “It’s never felt good, never felt like this.”

For a moment, his eyes seem to lose focus, clouded with anger—at Stephic, at men he didn’t know, had never met—at anyone who’d hurt you. Your chest tightens, another wave of emotion crashing over you. He cared for you. He wasn’t just here to take what he wanted and leave. The only thing he wanted from you was you.

Everything else was nothing.

The cloud seemed to dissipate, his eyes flicking up to yours once more, clear as ever. You gave him a ghost of a smile, and he responded in that husky voice, “I promise you that with me, it will always feel like this.”

Your hands have nothing to do but tangle in his silver hair as his mouth returns to your chest, kissing and teasing until you were writhing beneath him, attempting to move your hips up to meet his, desperate for any contact. Thankfully, he took the message and pulled back slightly so that he could slip one hand up under your nightdress, calloused fingers moving up from your ankle to your calf, then the soft skin of your thigh. You gasped as he let his fingers gently brush up against your underthings, which were absolutely soaked.

You didn’t have time to be embarrassed, couldn’t be embarrassed thanks to the low growl that came from somewhere deep in his chest. He teased you a bit more, letting his fingers trace from your entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center. Despite the fact that his fingers were still separated from you by the scrap of thin material, you mewled, urging him on; needing to feel more of him.

As if he were reading your mind, he hooks his fingers in the soaked material and pulls them off, tossing them somewhere on the floor behind him. “Gods,” he breathed, letting a finger circle your most sensitive spot so gently it was maddening, “Look at you, en’ca minne,” he adds another finger, moving them back and forth across the sensitive nub, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your brain is clouded with pleasure and trying to decipher what he just said is nearly impossible given that fact and your limited knowledge of the language the Elder Speech. Whatever it means, he says it with so much care that you don’t really care what it means one way or the other.

He traces his fingers slowly to your entrance, circling around it several times, but not pushing in despite your protesting.

“Geralt,” you breathe, “Please—”

But then there is a sound on the other side of the door, several loud knocks in quick succession.

Your heart jumps up into your throat as Geralt withdraws his hand, turning to stand, irritation written all over his face.

“Dammit, Lambert, Eskel, can’t you leave it alone for a—”

“Geralt, that is no way to talk to your elder.”

Geralt’s mouth snaps shut as he glances at the door, and then at you. You’ve already started lacking up your night dress again, though you still have no idea where your underwear went—which is entirely mortifying. Thankfully, he waits for you to grab another pair from your still open dresser that you’d only half unpacked your things into and pull them on with shaky hands.

Once you’ve managed to dress yourself and somewhat fix your mussed hair, Geralt finally goes to the door and opens it. Vizimir looks at Geralt apologetically, “Sorry to intrude.” He says it so nonchalantly that you get the impression that his probably happened dozens of time times. You do remember Geralt telling you that Vizimir was very old, and that he’d been in charge of Kaer Morhen for a very long time. You suppose his nonchalance eases your embarrassment somewhat—but only somewhat.

You knit your fingers together anxiously, looking between the two men. You know that mind reading is not something Witchers can do, but you can’t help but feel as if the two are exchanging information silently while you just shift nervously from one foot to the other, completely in the dark.

“You must have come up here for something important,” you let the words slip from your mouth. Truly, since being away from your old home, you’d become more and more able to speak up for yourself—to voice your concerns without the fear of being punished for it. You like to think that your mother would be happy to see the return of her loud, opinionated daughter, who had been missing for so long.

“I did,” Visimir says, taking a few steps into the room. Once he makes it past Geralt, you see a vial of something in his hand. It is full of a strange liquid you’ve never seen before—it was a bright yellow color, like the color of Geralt’s eyes in the sun. Your eyes narrow, focusing on the bottle. You cannot guess what it is, exactly, but you can guess why he’s brought it up here.

Geralt’s eyes have also focused on the vial, recognition blooming on his face in the form of a sharp grimace. “Visimir…” he trails off as Visimir gives him a sharp look, though his eyes look unbelievably sad.

You back up slowly, unthinkingly, until the backs of your legs hit the bed and you sit down with a heavy sigh. Of course, since you’d arrived here, you knew what was going to happen. You know what choice you’ve made, and you don’t plan on changing your mind—but it still makes your heart hammer in your chest.

“Visimir,” Geralt tries again, “We’ve only just arrived. Can she not have one night of peace?” There is an edge to the silver haired Witcher’s voice that you have rarely heard. It was fear lacing his words.

“I wish that I could,” Visimir says gently, taking a few more steps into the room, toward you. “But, Geralt, you know the mutations will only work if she’s taken the proper mutigens. Without the mutigens—”

“It would be suicide,” you cut off the old man. Even you, with your limited knowledge, know that. Trying to mutate someone’s DNA is risky, nearly impossible.

“Yes,” Visimir confirms.

“But certainly, it can wait until tomorrow—”

“No, Geralt.” It is you who cuts off the Witcher this time. You draw in a shaky breath, “I can… I can feel the venom,” you admit. There was an ache in your back, which thankfully was dull at the moment, but you know that it will only get worse.

Visimir nods, eyes locking on yours, “We are going to have to begin as soon as possible, before the damage becomes irreparable.”

Geralt sighs, running a hand through his loose hair and pacing toward the bed, “Fuck.”

You hold out your hand, reaching for the vial, which Visimir hands you. Despite his words, he handed it over slightly reluctantly, clearly not relishing the idea of you drinking it. But you’ve already made up your mind, and immediately uncork the small bottle.

“Wait, Y/N,” Geralt holds out a hand as if to take it from you, “Before you drink it, you have to know what—”

“Please, Geralt, do not tell me about the fucking side effects.” You don’t want to hear about them, you don’t want to know what is about to happen. You just know that you need to survive this; you need to be with Geralt. You need your life to continue.

So you put the bottle to your lips and tilt your head back, swallowing the mixture in one go, gagging slightly on the taste.

For a moment, you feel nothing aside from an alcohol burn down your throat, but then you feel something else—a blooming pain radiating from your chest. You gasp, pressing your hands to your chest, as if you could somehow tear yourself open and get the mixture out, dropping the vial in the process.

“You’ll keep watch, I’m sure?” Visimir asks Geralt, who nods gravely as he rushes to your side, sitting down next to you on the bed.

You watch Visimir leave, first stopping in the doorway to tell Geralt that he’d be in the lab if he was needed. And then, he is gone.

You are gulping for air, even though each breath burns like fire. The only comfort is Geralt beside you, pulling you against him and easing you into bed. You look up at him with wide eyes, shaking your head vehemently, “Geralt… I won’t be able to fucking sleep!” The words come out choppily, through gasps of air.

Geralt’s face screws into a more serious, grave expression than you’d ever seen, and he looks down at you. “Y/N,” he mutters, “I would never normally use it on you, but… you know about axii?”

You nod, vaguely remembering the Witcher sign that could control minds. Honestly, you don’t care what he does so long as you can sleep—so that you can escape this pain. “Just… make it stop,” you plead.

“I will, en’ca minne,” he whispers, one hand stroking your hair and the other gripping your hand tightly.

He removes his hand from your forehead, tracing a sign above you and whispering under his breath, “Sleep, my love.”

And suddenly, despite the pain, you feel every part of your body relax, your breaths becoming more even as your eyes slip shut.

Oh yes, you think, I’m very tired. So, so tired.

You fall asleep clutching Geralt’s hand, and he stays awake all night. He knows you are strong, and you will fight, but he will not let you go through this alone. He will not let anything happen to you.

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#story: a curse meant to be broken #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia #imagine #fanfiction #the witcher #fic #geralt smut #smut

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Mortal Kombat (2021) vs. Mortal Kombat (1995): Which is Better?

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This article contains Mortal Kombat (2021) spoilers.

“Test your might.” These are the words of a minigame in the original Mortal Kombat arcade fighter from 1992. They were meant to signal an interlude between the simple pleasures of digitized sprites spilling buckets of blood. Yet they’ve also become synonymous with a franchise that’s arguably the most popular video game fighter of all-time. The phrase is also a pretty apt description for the various filmmakers who’ve attempted the challenge of taming this crazy dragon on screen.

More than any other video game series, Mortal Kombat has seen a plethora of live-action adaptations, from Hollywood movies to syndicated television. This weekend marks another milestone in that history, too, with Warner Bros. and New Line Cinema’s hotly anticipated Mortal Kombat reboot opening in theaters and premiering on HBO Max. It’s the third Mortal Kombat movie released under the New Line banner, but let’s just call it the second serious attempt at putting this universe on screen after the 1995 cult classic directed by Paul W.S. Anderson.

That ’95 movie holds the dubious honor of being generally considered the best video game movie adaptation of all-time, thanks to a tongue-in-cheek tone perfect for its mid-‘90s moment and maybe the greatest use of techno music in film. Genuinely, how many other pictures have the soundtrack scream the title of the movie over and over again, and it seems like a good idea?

The new movie took a different approach to the material, and certainly a bloodier one. While both adaptations share the same basic premise of chosen “Earthrealm” guardians protecting our dimension from an invading force via martial arts fights, the executions diverge radically. Here’s how.

The Story

The starkly different approach to storytelling in director Simon McQuoid’s 2021 Mortal Kombat is evident during the film’s opening scene. Beginning in 1600s Japan with a gnarly, brutal fight sequence between Sub-Zero (Joe Taslim) and Scorpion (Hiroyuki Sanada), this version of Mortal Kombat relies heavily on lore and world-building. If you know the video game backstory of Sub-Zero/Bi-Han, and how he was kidnapped as a child by the Lin Kuei cult so they could brainwash him into the magical ninja we now see slaughtering Scorpion’s family, the scene has a sense of fateful tragedy.

If you don’t, well Taslim and Sanada are such gifted martial artists that it still looks really cool. By contrast, Mortal Kombat of the ’95 vintage is pretty straightforward and to the point. This is basically an interdimensional version of the Bruce Lee classic, Enter the Dragon (1973), only with magical powers and the fate of the world at stake.

We’re introduced to three fighters in ‘95, Liu Kang (Robin Shou), Johnny Cage (Linden Ashby), and Sonya Blade (Bridgette Wilson-Sampras), who all get on a boat to the tournament for different reasons. And while Liu Kang was raised by his Shaolin monk upbringing to know what this tournament is, the other two act as our eyes and ears into this strange world of mysticism and Outworld menace. By the time they reach the island, they understand they need to compete with superpowered foes to save Earth in a structured tournament.

Conversely, Mortal Kombat (2021) is curiously both more secretive and open about its bizarre universe. For a much larger chunk of its running time, the new movie’s point-of-view character Cole Young (Lewis Tan) is completely mystified by the superpowered horrors happening around him while the viewer is keyed in early by scenes set in the evil dimension of Outworld. There we see the dastardly sorcerer Shang Tsung (Chin Han) scheme from a throne about killing Cole in order to prevent a prophecy vaguely connected with the movie’s prologue scene in the 1600s. So he sends Sub-Zero to kill Cole in his day-to-day life as an MMA fighter, slaughtering him before he understands he’s been chosen to participate in the sacred Mortal Kombat tournament, which is held in secret every generation.

In fact, there is no actual tournament in the new film. Rather the plot eventually becomes Shang Tsung’s chosen band of evil warriors attempting to cheat ahead of the conflict by attacking Earthrealm’s depleted champions before they even discover they have superpowers (or “arcanas”) and know what Mortal Kombat is. The film thus becomes a quest movie with Cole joining forces with other “chosen ones” (or chosen one-aspirants) to find the Temple of Raiden, a lightning god (played by Tadanobu Asano) who represents the interests of Earthrealm in the tournaments. From there the heroes must learn their powers and evade preemptive, cheating attacks from Outworld’s thuggish baddies.

Side by side, the approaches appear to be the differences between a traditional (if derivative) martial arts flick and a modern studio blockbuster that is trying to cram as much fan service and world-building lore into a two-hour movie as possible in the hopes of making fanboys happy. I hesitate to say the 2021 film is fully following the Marvel Studios template given its copious amounts of blood and (seeming) lack of interest in building a shared universe of interconnected franchises. However, the 2021 film was certainly released in a post-Marvel world where the focus in studio committee rooms is less on telling a single story and more on building a whole convoluted mythology filled with fan favorite characters who are begging to be explored endlessly by future movies. It’s less story-driven than it is content-driven.

As a result, it leaves the narrative lacking. Viewers know long before Cole or 2021’s Sonya Blade (Jessica McNamee) what’s going on, and all the anticipation for a tournament that never materializes feels anti-climactic. With its simple structure, the Anderson-directed movie in the ‘90s plays out much more satisfyingly with three heroes (plus poor dead meat like “Art Lean”) entering a tournament by choice or trickery and then trying to survive it while learning vanilla, if tangible, life lessons. Liu Kang needs to accept his destiny; Johnny Cage must look before he leaps; and Sonya has to accept she’ll be the film’s damsel in distress even though she kicks ass. It’s an Enter the Dragon knockoff but it still has more kick than fan service.

Round One goes to 1995.

The Tone

The tone and aesthetics are also jarringly different between the two movies. Released in 1995, the same year Pierce Brosnan became James Bond, and two years before Arnold Schwarzenegger chilled out as Mr. Freeze, Mortal Kombat (1995) is an unmistakably campy movie and it leans into that fact.

Working with a low budget for a Hollywood spectacle even before New Line Cinema cut his funds by another $2 million right before cameras rolled, Anderson directed a B-movie that accepted its limitations and had fun with it. Apparently stars Ashby and Christopher Lambert, who played Lord Raiden in the ’95 movie, improvised dialogue throughout the shoot and rewrote entire scenes. As a consequence, Lambert’s lightning god was more of a jovial trickster in temperament, reminiscent of Loki instead of Odin. Johnny Cage, meanwhile, was essentially the film’s Han Solo: a cocksure wiseacre next to the stoic hero (Liu Kang) and a no-nonsense woman who doesn’t like to be called princess (Sonya).

As again signaled by the almost funereal opening sequence of Mortal Kombat (2021), where Sub-Zero murders Scorpion’s young family, the 2021 film is going for a differing sensibility. There is actually quite a bit of humor still present, with the real reason the Johnny Cage character got cut becoming apparent the moment we meet Kano (Josh Lawson), a loudmouth smartass who takes on the comic relief role but with an added slice of thuggery. Hence his dialogue has a lot more F-bombs than it does cracks about $500 sunglasses.

Other than moments where Kano is allowed to steal scenes, however, Mortal Kombat (2021) plays it pretty straight. Asano’s Raiden is imperious and his fighters stoic. However, it’s also worth noting Raiden is played by a Japanese actor, as opposed to a white American-born Frenchman who was raised in Switzerland (Lambert has quite the international background). Indeed, one of the more admirable qualities of the 2021 film is the focus on a diverse cast that includes more roles for Asian actors and people of color, whereas the 1995 film whitewashed Raiden and left out the Black American character Jax for little more than a cameo.

The 2021 film also upped the gore quotient considerably. While the martial arts of the 1995 film were decidedly PG-13, the tone of the movie was only a few steps removed from Power Rangers in some respects, including its introduction of a horrible CGI creation known as Reptile. The Reptile in the 2021 film appears more convincingly, like the latest monstrosity out of a Jurassic World lab, and the violence he commits is visually gruesome (more on that later).

Honestly, preferences over the aesthetic differences between the two films comes down to a matter of taste. I prefer the tongue-in-cheek eye rolls of the 1995 film given how nonsensical this universe is, and how at the end of the day its target audience remains children. Yet I imagine many adult fans of the video games will prefer the blood-soaked earnestness found in 2021.

Round Two is a draw.

Chosen Players

Anyone who’s picked up a fighting game will tell you it’s all about finding a character or two you like and then training up with them. In 1995, Anderson had the advantage of primarily adapting the original 1992 arcade game with its limited collection of playable characters. Ergo, his film’s lineup easily focused on the three aforementioned heroes of Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, and Sonya Blade, plus the ambiguous Princess Kitana (Talisa Soto), and Lord Raiden. Meanwhile he divided his villain screen time between the sorcerer Shang Tsung (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa) and Shang Tsung’s minions, who were essentially glorified Bond henchmen with individual gimmicks.

Fan favorites Sub-Zero and Scorpion are present in the ’95 movie—with much more colorful, game-accurate costumes—yet they’re relatively low-hanging fruit in the tournament’s brackets. Their rivalry is given lip-service but they are dispatched by heroes Liu Kang and Johnny Cage relatively easily. Meanwhile Trevor Goddard’s Kano is more a hapless comic relief baddie who Wilson-Sampras’ Sonya kills with a great laugh line. “Give me a break,” Kano pleads with his head pinned between her thighs. “Okay,” she shoots back before snapping his neck.

Still, the movie largely belongs to Tagawa who makes a meal out of the scenery as the big bad. The guttural pleasure he has in so naturally turning all the over-the-top commands in the video game into his dialogue—“Finish Him!;” “Fatality;” “Test Your Might”—is infectious.

The 2021 film relies on a much larger cast of characters and, unlike the 1995 movie, attempts to give them each a moment to shine in the way Kitana and the original Kano could only dream. This surprisingly begins with the introduction of a totally new character in Cole Young as our point-of-view protagonist. While fan favorite Liu Kang was the hero in ’95, the character is now a supporting player played by Ludi Lin in 2021. And he’s not alone. The new Liu Kang’s cousin, Kung Lao (Max Huang), also gets enough screen time to show off his character’s beloved razor-rimmed hat, which he dispatches one of the movie’s villains with.

There is also the new Sonya, who may have the most complete arc as she strives to be accepted as a champion for Earthrealm, and Jax (Mechad Brooks), who is Sonya’s partner with the chosen one birthmark and who gets a new nasty origin story for his metal arms. And then the new Kano spends as much time working with the good guys as he does becoming a villain in an entirely rushed and unconvincing third act plot twist.

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There are even more villains, most of whom amount to glorified cameos, including Mileena (Sisi Stringer), Nitara (Mel Jarnson), and Kabal (Daniel Nelson). However, they’re all even more perfunctory than Sub-Zero and Scorpion were in 1995. At least the ‘90s ninjas each got a few minutes to show off before being dispatched. Even the ostensible main villain of 2021, the new Shang Tsung, is fairly underserved, left to state banal dialogue from a throne without a throne room, and he’s never allowed to dominate scenes the way Tagawa did so gleefully back in the day.

Unfortunately, this is because the 2021 film has so many characters that it lacks any sense of narrative focus or cohesion. Tan’s arc of wanting to learn his power/arcana to defend his family is as broad and serviceable a hook as Shou’s 1995 Liu Kang wanting to avenge the murder of his brother. But Tan’s Cole Young gets lost in the shuffle after the first act and until the movie’s ending. Character turns like Kano betraying the other heroes similarly feels hackneyed because there is too much noise on screen to really care about who’s making it. Even Kang Lao’s death falls flat. It’s admirable that it’s a good guy fans theoretically should care about (unlike 1995’s token Black character created by the filmmakers to die), but the 2021 movie fails to make the uninitiated be concerned.

Of course there are exceptions. Namely Sub-Zero and Scorpion. Even though Scorpion ill-advisedly disappears for nearly all of the movie’s running time after the film’s terrific opening 10 minutes, Sanada has such presence, and such strong chemistry with Taslim’s Sub-Zero, that their opening salvo leaves you waiting the rest of the movie for Scorpion’s revenge. Taslim is also able to give Sub-Zero some surprisingly tangible, if only hinted at, pathos even after he kills a kid in his first scene and is then forced to act behind a mask thereafter. He’s the real villain of the piece you want to see go down, and his death scene is incredibly satisfying as a result.

It’s probably enough for fans of the games to favor this kitchen sink approach. But overall, less is more.

Round Three goes to 1995.

Fight Scenes

If there is one realm where the 2021 movie truly excels in over the previous film, this is it. And yes, a big part of that is the gore quotient. Whereas the 1995 flick was produced with a PG-13 rating in mind (my elementary school thanks New Line for that), the 2021 movie was able to embrace the gross out charm that made the original game stand out at the arcade all those decades ago. Street Fighter might’ve been first, but only Mortal Kombat let you pull the other player’s spine out.

While that effect doesn’t quite happen in the 2021 movie, almost everything else does. Nitara goes face first into a Kung Lao’s buzzsaw hat, which cuts her cleanly in half; Sub-Zero freezing Jax’s arms and then shattering them in a stomach-churning effect; and instead of going off a cliff, Prince Goro is disemboweled by Cole Young—which almost makes up for the fact that Goro is reduced to a mindless mute this time.

It’s like a highlight reel of fatalities from the video game. But the reason why this film’s fight scenes really stand above the 1995 film isn’t the bloodletting; it’s the action leading up to it. With brutal fight choreography, the new Mortal Kombat shines whenever it lets actors who can actually do the stunts take the arena. That includes Lewis Tan, whose Cole Young mostly fights other MMA types or CG monsters. But it’s especially true for Joe Taslim of The Raid fame. As the villainous Sub-Zero, his moves are lightning quick, even if his powers leave opponents frozen stiff. So when he shares the screen with Tan or Sanada, the action reveals an auhentic flair.

In comparison, the 1995 film suffers a bit from the sin Johnny Cage is trying to dodge within the story: it relies on stunt doubles and tight editing to make the fights exciting. It’s a shame too since Shou is an excellent martial artist, and the one scene he got to choreograph—Liu Kang versus Reptile—has an edge. But much of the time, Shou’s constrained by the direction and editing. Ashby and Wilson-Sampras, conversely, are not actual martial artists, though credit must be given to Wilson-Sampras for doing all her own stunts when getting the role of Sonya at the last minute.

Still, the fights stand taller in 2021. It’s a bit of a shame though that the movie is so heavily edited that it too often hides this fact. Unlike the 1995 ensemble, most of the cast has the moves in 2021, but the editing still feels stuck in the past with its reliance on confounding quick cuts and coverage. During our current era of John Wick and Atomic Blonde this is both a bizarre and disappointing choice. Nevertheless, this is an easy call.

Round Four goes to 2021.

Ending

The final fight was relatively satisfying in 1995. Tagawa is a preening villain, and when the Immortals’ techno “Mortal Kombat” theme plays, it’s a pleasure to watch Liu Kang wipe that smug smile off Shang Tsung’s face. However, the ending keeps going with a Star Wars-esque sendoff to Liu Kang’s force ghost brother, and then the movie undermines its catharsis by immediately setting up a sequel.

In the picture’s final moments, our three heroes, plus Kitana, return to the real-life Thai temple that’s supposed to be Liu Kang’s home. Lord Raiden waits for them there, getting some final sideways cracks in before Outworld’s evil emperor Shao Khan appears like a giant specter in the clouds. He immediately threatens an Earthrealm invasion, despite losing the tournament.

I can attest that in 1995, this was a stunning cliffhanger for eight-year-olds everywhere. But then… Mortal Kombat: Annihilation (1997), one of the worst films of the late ‘90s, happened.

Meanwhile in the 2021 film, we have a much more satisfying death for its villain when Scorpion returns from hell to send Sub-Zero to the hot place. Their fight is much more technically satisfying, and the cliffhanger setup is a lot more subtle. After defeating Shang Tsung’s warriors, if not Shang Tsung himself, the heroes of Earthrealm saved us all without an actual tournament ever occurring. And instead of Outworld cheating in this moment by invading anyway, they retreat. It’s an odd choice since they’ve been cheating the whole film, so why start playing by the rules now?

Even so, it leaves a destination for a second movie to actually head toward. And to tease that fact further, it’s implied Cole Young will now travel to Hollywood to recruit movie star Johnny Cage for a sequel. It’s pure fan service, but the kind that leaves the possibility open for better things to come. Considering we know where the 1995 movie’s cliffhanger leads—to pits of cinematic hell worse than any faced by Scorpion in the last 400 years—this is a victory for 2021 by default.

Round Five goes to 2021.

Final Victor

Ultimately, neither of these films are high art nor do they aspire to be. In some ways, it’s a case of picking your poison between schlock or schlock. Each has advantages over the other, as laid out above, and each is a long way from a flawless victory. Nonetheless, due simply to narrative and tonal cohesiveness, and just more memorable lead characters, I’ll go with the one that actually gets to the tournament this whole damn thing’s designed around.

Game over.

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