fufuheheii

[fufuheheii]

If requests are still open, could I possibly have a Messmer x f! Tarnished? The Tarnished being Messmer wife/consort who did not accompany him on the crusade since those really aren't the romantic destinations you usually take your loved ones. The wife dies in the Shattering and comes back as a Tarnished, with no real plan to go murderhobo on Messmer, but still thinking being a Lord/Elden Lord doesn't sound too bad. How would Messmer react to *that* kind of news?

pairing: messmer the impaler x wife!tarnished!reader (hurt/comfort)

notes: i love super specific asks like this because they give me sooo much to think about. also whoops i wrote too much and have to make a second post.

( part 2 )

pre-shattering; incandescent

Your marriage to the Impaler, while brief, had been a great source of pride for him. To think that he could be worthy of such a love was beyond baffling, and yet it was no dream. Truly, you had actually loved him — and he, you. 

He loathed to part from you, but pride drew him onwards. He wished not only to make his mother proud, but to spark further adoration from you as well. So, while he did dislike leaving you behind, he seemed rather excited about it too. Often the both of you would stay up until the wee hours of the morning to discuss his departure and the grandeur that would be sure to follow it. 

He held you close on the dawn he was to leave, only in the privacy of your shared bedchambers could Messmer display such a gentle act. The more reserved send off was for the prying eyes of Marika’s citizens, the way he kneeled to grab your hand in his and press soft kisses there made it known his adoration, for better or for worse. We’ll get to that later.

Contact with your beloved Lord, at first, had not been too difficult. You sent a letter, around four nights would pass, and you’d receive a letter back. He’d always respond asking how you had been faring in his absence, if there was anything you required from him while he was away, a gift perhaps? He’d go on to regale you with the tales of his crusade, each letter containing more and more gruesome details. You’d express your worry for him with each response, and soon enough such details had been cut from his future communications.

Dear Messmer had lost quite some favor as his war stretched on, and thus it became more troublesome to send your letters to him. Most had a disdain for your husband, refusing to send your letters to him, and you’d have to turn to Marika instead. She had sent them in a timely manner the first two times, but by the third letter she had become less concerned with the war and more focused on what her people thought of it —  of her son.

It was around this time communication between you and Messmer had begun to taper out. Letters could still be sent and received, however the process became rather lengthy and the Queen took little pity on you. 

You had begged for an audience with your mother-in-law, but none would be granted to the wife of a warmonger. Your time at Leyndell Castle officially came to an end once Marika denounced your beloved’s efforts. Having you there tarnished the royal family’s reputation, and you were relocated to a quaint village in Altus, outside of the capital’s walls. 

It was during this time you began to reflect on the Queen and her order, her Order bathed in unsullied gold and blessed with eternal fruitfulness. How could she, the Mother Eternal, act so coldly towards her most loyal son just to save her own skin? What fickleness was this? What cruelty? How could a god behold such human traits? Perhaps her order wasn’t as perfect as you once thought. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you’d tell Messmer; that is if you ever got to speak to him again. The thought alone crushed you, and you receded into the kind escape of sleep.

Life outside of the Erdtree’s succor granted naught but hardship. Known only as the Impaler’s consort, you were a disgrace upon the Erdtree faithful, and were left well alone. An outcast in your village you would remain, it seemed, for all eternity. 

Years passed in isolation before you had heard tell of the new crowned prince of Leyndell’s assassination, and the subsequent shattering of the great Elden Ring. Never before had you known such destruction, such chaos, such humanity. Of course Marika of all people could create such a scene. 

You had just finished packing away your darling Lord’s letters when a group of marauders — no doubt General Radahn’s men — had begun to raid your village. 

You helped where you could, directing attention away from families and ushering the elderly along into the welcoming arms of those who could guide them to safety. Such arms did not belong to you. How could you leave without those yellowed letters, each promise of return penned on them dulled and decayed? You simply could not leave behind the cloying words of your Lord husband, ever-departed and shunned by all but you. Unfortunately for you, a sword through the back would be the only reward for your kindness. You fell almost willingly, certain that this blow would deliver you unto a gentler realm; one in which you may encounter your lost husband. 

A shuddering sigh escaped your lips as you begged to be returned to him; praying that he may gather you up from where you lay, trampled and left by those you had shared your exile with.

post-shattering; tarnished

Of course, in her typical fashion, Queen Marika had different plans

It’s undetermined how quickly Tarnished are revived, let’s say you are returned to the Lands about a hundred years after the events of the Shattering

Quite a lot of time has passed, and not a shred of your former identity lingers in a single scroll. Not even your letters had survived, most certainly reduced to ashes in the fire that consumed your past domicile. And, while saddening that the future Messmer had promised for the both of you would never come to pass, you were almost thankful for this lack of notoriety. Your time as an outcast had taught you well enough the dangers of being associated with that wonderful husband of yours. And so, for now, you would keep secret your relationship to him.

You joined the Roundtable Hold and were quickly educated on the new version of the Lands you inhabited. So too, did you learn that the title of ‘Elden Lord’ had yet to be claimed. While not particularly taken with the idea of assuming the title, you were intrigued in what power it would bring should you take the throne. Surely an order would be established much like Marika’s own, but with your intentions used to mend the ring instead of hers. Perhaps what you disliked in Marika you could remedy, foolish and human as you are. You were hesitant to inform anyone of your possible interest in the role however, and continued on as normal. Why cause such a stir in dynamics among your new friends? 

Eventually, either by coercion or of your own accord, you wound up in the Land of Shadows. Almost the instant you had looked out upon the Gravesite Plain you already knew where you were, where he was. And as you explored it came increasingly apparent that he was still alive somehow.

You decided you would have to go find out yourself, and with the motivation to find your long lost husband stirring in your chest you set out on the perilous journey alone.

It was actually a lot easier for you to get to Messmer than you had initially thought. You’d been detained by the Fire Knights of course, but some recognized you despite your condition. They quarreled over if you were truly their Lord’s cherished consort or some vain imposter, and in the end they escorted you to Messmer and had him decide himself.

His serpents recognized you almost immediately. Your scent, while somehow different, still sung with an underlying hint of familiar sweetness. One of them wrapped itself around your forearm while the other watched on in awe. 

Messmer sends his Fire Knights away and takes you in from afar. It’s eerily silent in his chamber for a few moments, the only sound the contended hiss of his serpent companions. He rose from his chamber and stalked over to you, bending down to observe your altered form. While you looked the same as you had back then, you were significantly shorter and bereft of the light you were once drenched in. An odd little Tarnished you were, a princess trapped in the frame of a lowlife. It hardly mattered, you were his all the same.

He kneeled down to take your hand in his, hesitating to kiss it for fear that he would lose you, as if the action was responsible for separating the both of you all those years ago. He settles for a scalding embrace instead. 

He’s suspiciously quiet. You’d have thought he’d have much to say considering the time apart, but all he could think about was his mother. Why had she stripped you of your grace? Why hadn’t she kept contact with him? Perhaps was held you up all that time had been doing the same to his mother? If that were true, would that mean she is in danger? He wanted to ask you these questions, ask you to tell him what had transpired in his absence but the truth is he was afraid of your answer. 

He silently drew you a bath, offering you the privacy to strip yourself of your armor and, with his back still turned, ordered his knights to take the plates for polishing. He suddenly felt so very sorry for you; it was a grand shame that you should ever have to bear the weight of armor or know the handle of a weapon. He feels as though he had failed you by leaving you behind.

You recounted to him what happened before you became a Tarnished. While he knew that the people’s opinion of him and his crusade were low, he hadn’t expected for you to be mistreated because of your relation to him. His heart had simply shattered when he learned that you should be dead; long gone and hidden under the earth. 

You left out some bits of the story for his sake, specifically the parts about Marika. Perhaps now was not the time.

He’d let his eyes wander over your lightless form once more, likening it some sick joke.

“Worry not, my lovely. We shall fix thee.”

Your stay at the Shadow Keep lengthens. The both of you are quiet in each other’s presence, not sure of what to say, but there is warmth there regardless. No one speaks her name. No one dares to ask a question about what had happened in the other’s absence. You found yourself unable to question the hordes of dead bodies that littered the perimeter of Castle Ensis, and he refused to question his mother’s callousness towards you. 

Most of the time neither of you say anything at all. You had breakfast together, he sat in his chamber with you on his lap until he needed to get up and attend to something, in which you would trail behind him. Once night fell you’d both hold each other in his bedchambers and pretend to be asleep, and then the day would be over and it would be the exact same come morning. 

You didn’t dislike it, but after a week you told him of your fondness towards the prospect of becoming a ‘Lord.’ You didn’t tell him Lord of what or who, just that you liked the idea. And, in typical Messmer fashion, he worried over the thought of being abandoned yet again. 

He offered you the position of lord for one of his forts, but “Fort Reprimand” had a sort of sinister title you just didn’t feel comfortable sharing. 

He didn’t outright tell you how much it hurt him to think about you leaving. He had just gotten you back, how could he let you go again? 

His desperation became tangible. He became much more clingy and talkative, making sure with each conversation the two of you had to sprinkle in little details about how delightful the Keep was; how much everyone there adored you. 

You saw right through all of it, and you pitied him more than anything. Your poor Messmer; he didn’t deserve any of this. 

You weighed your options constantly, they were all you ever thought about anymore. On one hand, the ability to change the world for the better. To right Marika’s wrongs, and hopefully return her to her dear son. On the other, a safe and cozy spot in the arms of your husband forevermore. You wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder every waking moment, Messmer’s serpentine companions would do it for you. You would be safe. 

It was at this point you figured that you should tell him the truth. The truth about the Shattering, the disappearance of his mother and how he may not ever see her again. Surely this conversation would trickle into one concerning your lordship and if you wished to obtain it. So, in the little corridor outside of his chamber, you made your decision and prayed it was the right one.

[fufuheheii]

[fufuheheii]

Kinich ♡︎

[fufuheheii]

MASTERLIST

Genshin Impact

Cyno

Cyno's Ultimate Guide to Wooing You (tips from Tighnari)

Cyno x Friend Headcannon

He doesn't know what's wrong

Tighnari

Tighnari's Guide to Wooing You (tips from Cyno)

Albedo

Introverted!Reader talks to him

Lyney

Fatui!Lyney x Reader

Elden Ring

Messmer

Pre!SoTE!Messmer x Knight! Reader (snippet)

PreSoTE!Messmer x Knight!Reader (main story)

[fufuheheii]

Pre-SoTE! Messmer x KnightinTraining!F! Reader

Notice: This is just a (potential) snippet of my Messmer/Reader Fic! For now, please enjoy this lack-of-context short!

𓆙

The colosseum is crowded as usual, all anticipating the bloody fight that is to come. Gladiators prepare themselves, putting on their gloves and greaves. All fight to be seen, to be heard, to be championed.

For Messmer, it is one in which he can witness the ambitions and fighting prowess of all who dare to display it in front of the people of the Erdtree. There is no greater honor.

He sits above in the pulvinar, studying the gladiators who stand near the blocked entry into the fighting area. Some are familiar faces, others new and jittery. There will be much competition this time, and more blood will be spilled.

“I do not understand the meaning behind these fights,” Godwyn, who sits next to him, sighs as he rests his chin on his palm. “We live in peace, yet the people seem to favor bloodshed more than anything.”

“It is a battle of glory,” Messmer responds, tossing a look at his brother. “Thou should hold pride for these men.”

“I would rather focus on the noble ladies that wait outside the colosseum for their fathers and brothers,” the golden man only mutters, to which Messmer ignores. “Thou’rt not a man of brute violence either, lord brother. Participating in these spectacles will not curry favor with our mother.”

“I am not doing this to impre–”

“Oh, it’s starting.”

The gates are pulled open, and in stomps the first gladiator. He is a champion in the arena, his helmet still not washed from the blood of his victims. He pounds at his chest, roaring for the next opponent to enter the arena. The crowd cheers and chants for the next contender to come out. Messmer tilts his head forward, his red braid falling over his shoulder as the gates open again. When he sees who it is, he immediately leans forward with one wide eye. Godwyn raises an eyebrow before he laughs. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Jeffrey, you are to be brought to the name of justice!”

Your voice bounces off the walls of the arena, and the said gladiator only stares as you enter in, in your rusty apprentice armor and dull blade. The only thing standing out from your appearance is your shiny new helmet, which you must have bought recently as it lacks any scratches. The crowd boos at you, throwing food and shouting for you to get out.

“I am here–oof!” you get knocked to the ground when a whole cabbage smacks your helm. “What is this hostility,” you cry out in shock as you grip your helm. “I am here to arrest this man!”

“Get outta here!” the audience roars in anger. “This is no place for a knight!”

The gladiator roars, and before you can get back on your feet he runs towards you, smashing his whole body against yours with full force. The air escapes your lungs as you are sent flying off, meeting the wall with a loud crack. The audience cheers and the gladiator lifts his arms to bask it all in.

You groan and wheeze in pain with no doubt some of your ribs broken. You left your flask in the saddlebag with your horse, and now you will have to fight with your bones rattling inside you.

Godwyn stops laughing and starts to look concerned over your current situation. “Lord brother.”

Messmer knows what he is thinking and grabs his spear and gets up. He peers down at you, watching you get to your feet. The uneven steps and limping form tells him you won’t survive the next attack.

However, he waits.

The gladiator notices you, and cracks his neck as he waits for you to approach him. You don’t do as he predicts, choosing instead to just stand there. He growls, and starts jogging before he makes a full dash at you. Just as he puts forward his arm, ready to slam into you again, you disappear from his field of vision. You roll to the side just in time, making him fly past you and into the wall. The audience roars, half in glee, half in shock at the scene. You make a hurried run over to your sword, wincing at each step sending a stab at pain to your ribs. The gladiator removes himself from the broken wall, glaring at your limping figure before he cracks his knuckle and takes his axe out from behind. He starts rushing at you, and you look back before quickly getting to your knees and grabbing your sword. However, you won’t make it in time. You quickly turn, ready to strike your sword–!

Flames distort your vision as the gladiator is pushed back by it, and a red cape eases your eyes. You stare in surprise as Messmer stands before you, his spear in hand pointing at the frightened man. The arena instantly silences.

“Sir Messmer?” You call out, your lips curving into a grin of relief. “What are you–”

“The fight is over,” Messmer declares, his smooth voice as loud as the silence. “Guards, arrest this man.”

Instantly guards embroidered in silver and gold trudge into the arena and grab the gladiator.

Murmurs arise in the crowd, slowly forming into protests. However, with one glare from the demigod all shushes back into silence. He turns to you, his irritated gaze brushing over you. He starts to say something, but it is lost in the blurry reality that has set upon you. Darkness follows and you faint away.

𓆙

You awaken inside an empty infirmary, on a bed that is softer than any bed you have laid upon. A small stinging pain stabs at your ribs again and you hiss.

“Thou’rt awake.”

You blink and see Messmer standing next to the window, spear in his crossed arms. “Sir Messmer! What art thou doing here?”

He expels the heavy sigh at your energetic voice. At least you’re well enough to be shouting. He signals the perfumers to leave before approaching your bed. “I should be asking thee the same question. Thou shouldst have gone to the knights to have the man arrested.”

“I–how did you know I was here to arrest the man?”

“Thou spokest of it, didst thou not?”

“...oh! I did,” you laugh weakly and attempt to sit up. “Yes, that man was on a bounty list. I figured had I gone after him myself I would be a step closer to knighthood. Then, I can serve under you!”

Messmer furrows his eyebrows, the deep lines creasing between them as he attempts to make sense of your words. “Thou’rt not serving under me.”

Your smile instantly drops. “But–but you said I can if I prove myself!”

“I said I will teach thee, not take thee under mine commands.”

Your shoulders droop, but you cling onto his words. “So you will still teach me?”

“That is what I just said.”

You beam, instantly forgetting the disappointment. “I will take all of your lessons to heart, Sir Messmer.”

The demigod’s gaze softens and he places his spear against the wall before sitting down on the rather small chair. You listen to the roaring cries outside, and turn to the demigod who takes a rowa fruit from the table next to your bed. “Sir, are you not going to watch the game?”

“No,” Messmer pops it into his mouth. “I am not a man of brute violence.”

“Jokes are meant to be funny, sir.”

“...”

𓆙

That is all for the very short snippet for now. Still writing the main one, and hoping I don’t get any of the lore wrong. Messmer’s speculative timeline in the Lands Between is wonky, but it leaves a lot of creative options open. Hope you enjoyed the snippet, expect more to come soon!

[fufuheheii]

Im tempted to write a MessmerxKnightinTraining!Reader where they meet each other prior to SoTE and is gonna be filled with whole lot of romance ANGST SMUT PININGGGG but I already have a fic running out there for him 😩 like I imagine him to be a quiet charismatic person who has to deal with loud people around him and the knight in training is a rather ambitious but weak individual who wants to learn from him ✨

[fufuheheii]

Blinded by the Flame

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Warnings: Blood, Death.

Synopsis: Left bloodied and blinded, Messmer searched. Not for revenge, but for his wife.

A/N: So, this fucking sunflower boss is kicking my ass. Im cooked.

Enjoy the story!

“Ah! Mother, please!” In the middle of the room, sat the legend of the flames. 

He balled up in agony, his fingers covered his face— his eyes entirely. 

Blood seeped between the crevices of his digits, his eyes burned with an itch, a feeling he wanted to tear out.

“For how could I— your spawn, be subjected to such a monstrosity of an ending?” The man cried out, his deep wails echoed throughout the chambers around his being. 

Messmer mumbled incessantly, begging and twitching as his vision blackened. 

He had to gain control— before the chaotic numb feeling goes too far, before his mind slips away completely. 

Think of the throne 

Think of the order 

Think of… 

“Wife,” 

He called out, saliva dripped down in a reddened  pace between his lips. 

Messmer reached out to nothing, to the blackness that surrounded him. 

“Wife!” He wailed

“Don’t— don’t leave me alone!” 

The lanky man keeled over, his hands beat against the wooden floor with fury. 

“A-Answer me! Your husband— your Lord demands it!” 

With a slurred speech, he crawled, began to move toward where he thought the door might be. 

His hand met with a stone wall, it stood firm against his blood covered palms. 

He couldn’t think- couldn’t remember the size of the room, the chamber at all for that matter. 

The  pain was piercing his mind, it left fire in its wake. 

“Augh—“ 

The knight continued his mission, persisted onto finding the exit, the way to his home- his love. 

Knees now scratched and molded over with scabs, he stopped his movement, as something cold came into contact with his dirtied palm.

Shakily a pale arm reached down once more and with his posture bent, he leered over the object. 

It was fleshy, wet with a warming substance and–

“No,” 

Firm hands acted, looked for proof that could refuse the perverse thoughts invading his mind. 

“No, no, no!” 

Shaky fingers guided their way to a hand, it was soft, so small that he could cover it whole with his own. 

He came into contact with a cold metal, a band that had been wrapped around the person's finger. 

His darling wife’s finger. 

“—Ah! No, this— this is a warning- a vision, it's a farce!” 

Not bothering to stop the blood from pouring down his chin, it fell atop of the bloodied woman. 

Her eyes remained closed, the middle of her person laid into a deep maroon color. 

As best as the weakened knight could, the woman was pulled towards him. She rested upon his lap like a deity. 

Her head was angled towards him, it sagged into the man’s chest instantly. 

He smelled the apples— the Elder flowers that clung onto her stilled skin.

There was no denying, it was his love that lay crumpled in his arms like a wilted lily. 

Only his cries were heard through the chamber, bouncing off the walls with ease as his wails got louder and louder. 

The cries were wet, uneven hiccups accompanied the tears. 

As if nature mourned her loss; thunder boomed, rain seeped down to drench the land and the wind howled beneath the winking stars. 

The man’s shoulders shook, he howled— it was too much, too far beneath the golden rays he was promised. 

Burying his head into her neck the man refused to move. 

His kin could walk through the gates now— with a cure for his blindness yet he would say put. 

For his protective reign is over. 

Now that his purpose lay still and quiet. 

His grip tightened, wide knuckles turned white with pressure. 

“Thy will bury it all in flame,” 

His voice but a whisper among the pelting rain. 

“I will offer it all; and join thee with the heads of the filthy accusers, who dare put thy to rest.” 

Biting down on his cheeks, more crimson seeped down with unwanted reign. 

“Rest, my wife,” his forehead met with hers, the surface sticky and wet. 

“My love will hold me here—“

“—nnnghh,” 

Thin red brows raised, with his mouth agape he let out a noise like no other. 

“Darling, love, please!” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but it came out in unseen repetition

Her mind was foggy, vision even more so as her arm raised above her being. 

It felt as if daggers pierced through her chest, and needles laid about her arms like unseen birthmarks. 

“–mer, Messm—“ 

“I’m here! Gods, I’m— lovely, hear thy cries, please!” 

The voice sounded like it was under rubble, or even perhaps miles of sand and dirt. 

She felt the light touches, how they guided their way on her cheeks, her jaw. 

It was a loving, soft touch made by roughened hands. 

Familiar hands. 

Tears struck her bloodied cheeks, a sloppy smile graced her expression. 

He hadn’t left her afterall— after the fall, the oncoming of soldiers, he was here, by her side. 

Grunting out a low groan, words fled her cut lips in a rush. 

The woman’s words slurred together, and the man tried to make sense of them.

“Slow down, my wife, slow—“

“Es, mess, yo— your eyes!”

On queue, the blackened holes throbbed. Dark pits of ash wobbled down the crevices and met the material of his armor. 

“Shhh, Darling, it will be alright, it will be alright.” 

Her lips shook with a new level of fear, of total shock. 

“I will take care of it— mother will help. I— it will be alright.” 

“She is the cause of such damnation, how will she help?” Taking her hand in his larger one, Messmer placed kisses upon each finger.

The woman gaped up at him. 

“Why are you so calm, aren’t you angry— hurt?”  

“I… was,” He replied. Still distracted by the kisses he laid upon her skin. 

“But thy are here to calm such a flame, hm?” 

The red knight pushed his woman closer, till the cheek of her face mushed against his dirtied armor.

“Let us get fixed, then such a discussion can be demanded.” 

Ignoring the woman's constant worried touches, a smile adorned his face. 

He wasn't alone, his wife lay huddled between his arms. The unspoken horror lay hushed beneath his heel, stomped and winded. 

Although he was blinded, left to die on his own, he could continue his push to the capital.

For the prophecy has already been foretold. 

The kingdom will be left in ash; with only his wife and him to huddle in the flames of ambition. 

[fufuheheii]

To Love and Forget

Pairing: Messmer x Reader

synopsis: The red haired knight didn’t love easily, but with his wife, it was thoughtless.

Warnings: None

A/N: Can you tell this man has me in a trance? Cause I’m Messmerized ;) (Okay I’m sorry enjoy the story)

Will his wife adore him, even with the scorched bodies left in his wake?

“We should visit soon, my love. I need to restock the kitchen.”

Messmer sat by the fire, watching as crimson and amber flames caressed the wooden logs. It crumbled under such intense heat, yet he observed regardless, as the pile turned to ash.

His beloved wife stirred a worn silver pot in the kitchen. The aroma of something savory wafted, momentarily drawing him from his troubled thoughts.

“Hm? Where to?”

Pale fingers brushed the man’s chin lightly, out of habit.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been listening as attentively as usual. On any other occasion, Messmer would be beside her, aiding and showering his wife with kisses as he deemed fit. She would giggle, flashing her bright smile, and likely try to push him away before resuming her culinary duties.

But this night was different

His patience wore thin; and so did his soldiers. They lay fallen in the yellowed wheat fields, swords piercing their backs. A surprise attack had sealed their fate, led by whom? Messmer didn’t know, flames began to dance across his pink and white knuckles with a methodical rhythm.

“The town, my love! I ran out of yeast the night before.”

“The town?” The knight gripped his knee harshly with his right hand. Unbeknownst to him, his wife hummed in agreement and turned to gaze at him.

“Mmh, I thought I would go in the morning. Save myself the trouble for—”

“Darling, I’m sure whatever you think you need can wait.”

His neck turned slightly towards her, earning a frown. She grasped the light blue apron around her middle, looking confusedly at her husband through her lashes. The room grew unbearably warm, a telltale sign of Messmer’s anger—disappointment, occasionally.

She could see his blazing eyes from here. Hells, they illuminated most of the living room.

“But… darling, our—”

“Enough. Wife.”

He stood taller now; she had to crane her neck back to meet his fiery gaze.

“It’s not safe. You’ll wait.”

Messmer approached, his maroon hair swaying with each step. In seconds, he was before her, appearing torn between worry and contempt.

She refused to meet his gaze any longer, unable to comprehend his displeasure.

Yet Messmer persisted. His index finger traced the skin around her chin, urging it upward with gentle pressure.

Now he stood with a gaze of love, mingled with sympathy. How swiftly he could change—she would never understand. His emotions had become less predictable lately; just the other day, he incinerated a field when a direbear had ventured too close.

She had regarded him then with the same eyes—worry, concern. He hadn’t acknowledged it, merely placing his hand back on her waist and continuing.

Just a he was doing now, ignoring the present.

“Forgive me, my love, I’ve been ah— distracted.” Noticing the change in atmosphere, his fingers found home in her hair, they stroked and smoothed over it with newfound patience.

“Distracted?” Her head rested upon his hand now, it engulfed it instantly.

“With what?”

He laughed.

It was small— and not the humorous kind.

“It’s nothing that should ail you, darling.”

His form bent over, and she felt the man’s forehead tap hers adoringly.

His eyes stared right into her own, they were half lidded and the knight held a light smile upon his face.

“Let me do the worrying, hm?”

His nose bumped with hers, and soon their lips touched. She felt his breath waft across her lips— her cheeks.

It was warm, and smelled of a cider he had made earlier that day.

“Kiss me, darling?” He pleaded.

And who was she to deny such a man of power?

The girl leaned in, now on her tiptoes as her soft mouth collided with his chapped one.

The maroon knight let out a groan, his knees almost buckled for how much he had to hold back from the poor girl.

So as a distraction, he pulled away, and began to kiss and suck the skin of her neck, making his way to her perfect jawline.

“But what about ah— “

A light kiss.

“The food—“

Another bite.

His chin met her shoulder, his lips grazed the bottom of her ear.

“Should you worry about that now, dear wife?”

His voice was deep, gravelly from the amount of lust bestowed upon his body.

The woman squeaked, embarrassed such an action would fluster her so.

“Its just ah— what would we do for to— morrow?"

Sharply, his arms sagged down, and his hands met with the back of her legs.

Quickly he acted, and pulled each of her legs across his muscled torso.

Now face to face, the man walked backwards, towards the well worn stairs leading to their shared bedside.

She laughed, her head bobbed to the side and he couldn’t help but let out a timber one of his own.

His wife’s arms looped around his wide shoulders, and met just behind his neck.

“Do not concern yourself with such frivolous tasks, my love.” He began his kisses once more,

each laid a different love bite.

One pink

One purple

“For tonight, I found my feast, mmh?”

She poked at the pale man’s cheek.

“Who knew you could hold such a flirtatious remark?” She teased, and Messmer clicked his tongue before tossing her lightly upon the mattress.

His wife’s hair engulfed the pillows, it surrounded her like a halo and he swore he’d remember such an image for the rest of his days. No matter the cost.

He’ll see her eyes before his future slumbers

Hear her laugh before the numerous fights to come on the battlefield

Eventually, when his last breath graces his lips, he’ll taste her there, feel the breath of hers brush past his vicinity.

He’ll remember such love filled eyes

He’ll remember what she smelled like— elder flowers and apples.

He’ll remember she loved him.

And that he loved her.

[fufuheheii]

To Love and Forget

Pairing: Messmer x Reader

synopsis: The red haired knight didn’t love easily, but with his wife, it was thoughtless.

Warnings: None

A/N: Can you tell this man has me in a trance? Cause I’m Messmerized ;) (Okay I’m sorry enjoy the story)

Will his wife adore him, even with the scorched bodies left in his wake?

“We should visit soon, my love. I need to restock the kitchen.”

Messmer sat by the fire, watching as crimson and amber flames caressed the wooden logs. It crumbled under such intense heat, yet he observed regardless, as the pile turned to ash.

His beloved wife stirred a worn silver pot in the kitchen. The aroma of something savory wafted, momentarily drawing him from his troubled thoughts.

“Hm? Where to?”

Pale fingers brushed the man’s chin lightly, out of habit.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been listening as attentively as usual. On any other occasion, Messmer would be beside her, aiding and showering his wife with kisses as he deemed fit. She would giggle, flashing her bright smile, and likely try to push him away before resuming her culinary duties.

But this night was different

His patience wore thin; and so did his soldiers. They lay fallen in the yellowed wheat fields, swords piercing their backs. A surprise attack had sealed their fate, led by whom? Messmer didn’t know, flames began to dance across his pink and white knuckles with a methodical rhythm.

“The town, my love! I ran out of yeast the night before.”

“The town?” The knight gripped his knee harshly with his right hand. Unbeknownst to him, his wife hummed in agreement and turned to gaze at him.

“Mmh, I thought I would go in the morning. Save myself the trouble for—”

“Darling, I’m sure whatever you think you need can wait.”

His neck turned slightly towards her, earning a frown. She grasped the light blue apron around her middle, looking confusedly at her husband through her lashes. The room grew unbearably warm, a telltale sign of Messmer’s anger—disappointment, occasionally.

She could see his blazing eyes from here. Hells, they illuminated most of the living room.

“But… darling, our—”

“Enough. Wife.”

He stood taller now; she had to crane her neck back to meet his fiery gaze.

“It’s not safe. You’ll wait.”

Messmer approached, his maroon hair swaying with each step. In seconds, he was before her, appearing torn between worry and contempt.

She refused to meet his gaze any longer, unable to comprehend his displeasure.

Yet Messmer persisted. His index finger traced the skin around her chin, urging it upward with gentle pressure.

Now he stood with a gaze of love, mingled with sympathy. How swiftly he could change—she would never understand. His emotions had become less predictable lately; just the other day, he incinerated a field when a direbear had ventured too close.

She had regarded him then with the same eyes—worry, concern. He hadn’t acknowledged it, merely placing his hand back on her waist and continuing.

Just a he was doing now, ignoring the present.

“Forgive me, my love, I’ve been ah— distracted.” Noticing the change in atmosphere, his fingers found home in her hair, they stroked and smoothed over it with newfound patience.

“Distracted?” Her head rested upon his hand now, it engulfed it instantly.

“With what?”

He laughed.

It was small— and not the humorous kind.

“It’s nothing that should ail you, darling.”

His form bent over, and she felt the man’s forehead tap hers adoringly.

His eyes stared right into her own, they were half lidded and the knight held a light smile upon his face.

“Let me do the worrying, hm?”

His nose bumped with hers, and soon their lips touched. She felt his breath waft across her lips— her cheeks.

It was warm, and smelled of a cider he had made earlier that day.

“Kiss me, darling?” He pleaded.

And who was she to deny such a man of power?

The girl leaned in, now on her tiptoes as her soft mouth collided with his chapped one.

The maroon knight let out a groan, his knees almost buckled for how much he had to hold back from the poor girl.

So as a distraction, he pulled away, and began to kiss and suck the skin of her neck, making his way to her perfect jawline.

“But what about ah— “

A light kiss.

“The food—“

Another bite.

His chin met her shoulder, his lips grazed the bottom of her ear.

“Should you worry about that now, dear wife?”

His voice was deep, gravelly from the amount of lust bestowed upon his body.

The woman squeaked, embarrassed such an action would fluster her so.

“Its just ah— what would we do for to— morrow?"

Sharply, his arms sagged down, and his hands met with the back of her legs.

Quickly he acted, and pulled each of her legs across his muscled torso.

Now face to face, the man walked backwards, towards the well worn stairs leading to their shared bedside.

She laughed, her head bobbed to the side and he couldn’t help but let out a timber one of his own.

His wife’s arms looped around his wide shoulders, and met just behind his neck.

“Do not concern yourself with such frivolous tasks, my love.” He began his kisses once more,

each laid a different love bite.

One pink

One purple

“For tonight, I found my feast, mmh?”

She poked at the pale man’s cheek.

“Who knew you could hold such a flirtatious remark?” She teased, and Messmer clicked his tongue before tossing her lightly upon the mattress.

His wife’s hair engulfed the pillows, it surrounded her like a halo and he swore he’d remember such an image for the rest of his days. No matter the cost.

He’ll see her eyes before his future slumbers

Hear her laugh before the numerous fights to come on the battlefield

Eventually, when his last breath graces his lips, he’ll taste her there, feel the breath of hers brush past his vicinity.

He’ll remember such love filled eyes

He’ll remember what she smelled like— elder flowers and apples.

He’ll remember she loved him.

And that he loved her.

[fufuheheii]

Miquella the kind spoke of the beginning. The seduction and the betrayal. An affair from which Gold arose And so too was Shadow born. What followed was a war unseen One that could never be put to song A purge without Grace or honour The tyranny of Messmer's flame And so Kindly Miquella would abandon everything. His golden flesh, his blinding strength. Even his fate. But we are not deterred. We choose to follow. Will you walk with us? - E L D E N R I N G Shadow of the Erdtree (06.21.2024) -

[fufuheheii]

MESSMER, THE IMPALER.

Elden Ring, Shadow of The Erdtree.

[fufuheheii]

soon 🤭🤭

[fufuheheii]

By orek_genya

[fufuheheii]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair Masterlist

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Warnings | arranged marriage, y/n is referred to as "princess" and goes by she/her pronouns (afab), royal au, slight possessive/obsessive behavior on jing yuan's part, grammatical errors, etc.

Pls comment if you want to be in the taglist!! <3

Chapter 1 | All Must Begin and End

Chapter 2 | coming soon!

[fufuheheii]

PRETTY BOY❤️

[fufuheheii]

jing yuan is so hot i am ripping my hair out like ...

PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANYTHING ANYTHING

[fufuheheii]

This man can go all serious but in my eyes, always will be a huge golden retriever 😩❤️ he is so e-le-gent-to.

(and the fact that he is a head taller than caelus. It's so cute.... I can't decide between shipping him with caelus and dang h(f)eng.)

Don't mind the text above his head. It's just my default lyrics display 🤣