#elden ring fanfic

[odysseusdraws]

Rennala got the dog in the divorce.

[space-blue]

News of Marika's betrayal has been a long time coming, but you'd never expected nor wanted to be the carrier of it. How are you supposed to report a graceless intruder, wrecking havoc in Messmer's own keep while carrying multiple great runes of the Elden Ring? 'What bothers thee?' Messmer asks, mimicking your gesture and cupping your cheek.

I said I would write it, so here it is!!! Messmer x gender neutral reader. No Y/N or pronouns but 'you'. Fluff, light angst, reader is not Tarnished but Messmer's partner. You build him a comfy pillow pile and tend the snake wounds in his shoulders. Background lore as well!

[subzeroparade]

Chapters: 5/7 Fandom: Elden Ring  Characters: Messmer, Melina, Queen Marika Additional Tags: assorted NPC cameos, DLC spoilers, the usual greek tragedy family dynamics, a frankly disproportionate amount of worldbuilding, Hornsent culture pre-crusade is theocratic apartheid, Messmer and Melina are twins and Marika is going at it single-mom style

Summary:

Always he has played the role of eldest between them: to guide, to oversee, to discipline. To be an extension of his mother. But without sign of their love, he has always been the first to falter.

In Enir-Ilim, the promised Empyrean is born to open the Gate of Divinity. Her children are born with something else inside them.

*

Updated every week

[zephyrins]

I'm so proud of this community

the DLC came out less than two months ago but Messmer/Tarnished is already in 4th place!

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 10

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: Messmer is stressed, and when he unravels, he becomes frustrated.

A/N: This chapter is labelled a spicy chapter 🌶️Warnings for this chapter: male masturbation

A03 link

-

Chapter 10: Undoing

"Leave me."

His personal knights, and his staff hurry out at once the tornado has made its way into his chambers, a mess of red that has consumed him body and soul.

He doesn't look back to know he's alone, he hears the many footsteps leave at once, shutting the door so that he feels some level of peace wash over him.

He would hate for his men to see him like this; wracked with shame and on the path to losing it.

Messmer likes to think he's a relatively calm man, and it takes a lot to piss him off. That thing pissing him off though was running amok and battling his men, reading his books. He allowed it, allowed her despite this entire time for some absurd unknown reason.

It didn't help that he still couldn't get out of his head the way you felt.

Your soft skin, the way you felt in his arms, the memory flashed so vividly that he thought he was truly losing it. How had this Tarnished do it-- he wonders. Perhaps it was a curse to torture him forever. It could be one of the many ways.

His insides tighten, and he's half-leant against the pillars of his darkened chambers, trying to distract himself even with his cock still hard and it's not going away. No matter what he thought, there was nothing he do to distract himself.

Curse her. He thinks, wracking a hand through his wild red locks, a sheen of sweat on his forehead makes him feel as if he's just drunk the strongest alcohol and it has lit a pyre in his gut.

The heat is too intense, the serpent calls within, and he's ripping at his clothing to be rid of the confinement, discarding his helm with a thud as he throws the red mantle off him. The cooler air hits the exposed areas of his skin. Still, it is not enough. 

He can't even close his eyes without you taking a part of his mind, the way you looked up at him when he caught you, that you knew this was all just as embarrassing as how he felt inside.

It's not the only memory that comes to mind, there are many others. When you're wearing red, his colours. When you kept your promise and returned to him on the verge of death, even when you're half bleeding all over the place and you're trying to find a way to vex him.

How could he explain himself if you accidentally found out about the tent forming between his legs.

He is half human after all, but all this had still been new to him. He had his urges, but he had quelled them before they could fester. Sometimes, he gave in, but the regret hit him hard soon after. It was never about him, never what he wished for. He was a soldier and soldiers never thought for themselves.

He was somewhat disgusted in himself for feeling this way, like some carnal beast, thinking thoughts that were so mixed that it muddled his head.

He hated her, oh, he hated the way she flounced around his Keep, grinning with blood in her teeth and breaking any bone in her body for the thrill of it, but Messmer had never felt so thrilled and enticed ever in his entire existence to witness this.

The Tarnished was merely an acquaintance, not his enemy nor a friend - not that he had many of those. Could he call upon her to be his friend? 

He had witnessed first-hand the way you were blessed by his mother's golden grace, and you had not fallen to Miquella's ways. Friend or foe, you were a distraction.

Messmer slumped in defeat, closing his eye as all distractions failed, he had come to realise one thing, the thing that his mind had been trying to deny whilst his body yearned for more.

It is the greatest of defeats he feels when his hands wound their way down his stomach, across his strong thighs and finding purchase on his hardened length.

He winces immediately, trying to ease the sensitivity by rubbing himself through his loincloth It doesn't do enough to help ease it, as the guilt hits him.

Stress consumes him to think he was so foolish to have feelings like these. He curses himself, foolish and immature, yet his hand finds a way inside, holding his length as he gives long strokes.

He almost collapses to the ground at the sharp sensations, biting his bottom lip as he tries to keep his noises at bay. He runs a finger over his tip, already leaking with precum as he smears it, helping to intensify the sensitivity. 

His precum helps his hand guide along his length, urging him to continue, harder, faster strokes have him quivering and whimpering.

His eye remains shut, but it reveals the filthiest of fantasies that have him half feverish and insane.

In them all, all he sees is you.

Your face, the way you look up at him, the way he imagines what you would look like naked, drenched in sweat, in blood, beneath him or on top. His hand doesn't tire it's spurned on by what he sees, his stomach begins to twist from the upcoming release.

He's never been this close this quickly, choking on his tears as they leak from his golden eye. Bliss is on the horizon as he quickens in his strokes, biting his lip until he's sure he tastes the bitter copper. He sees her in his fantasy, bare beneath him, moaning as he takes her, and he's closer, so, so close, until he hears the whisper of his name.

"Messmer."

His orgasm comes to him like a punch to the gut he's doubled over, failing to hide his muffled moans as his hand and the ground is covered in his essence. Pearly white drops decorate his skin, the ground is marked in his shame as he collects himself, letting out a shaky moan as he comes down from his high.

He's ashamed of himself in an instant, collecting his breath, reality coming back to him that he remembers where he is. The hand not covered in his cum runs through his sweaty hair, defeat consumes him as he tells himself he will lurk in the darkness of his room for as long as need be, just so he didn't have to see her for some time.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You don't try to think much about Messmer's abrupt departure, believing that a man as busy as himself is a means to himself. He's part god, so you tell yourself that he has things to deal with that you cannot relate to. He does have an entire Keep to run. 

Finding a nook for you to crawl yourself into, you find yourself there pouring as much into your mind, forgetting about the world around you. The hours pass, darkness swarms around you, and it's only when you yawn, looking up, do you notice how late it is.

The wick of the candle beside you has whittled down, and you need to replace it, however, your hunger gnaws at your stomach, and you think about how late it is. You think about whether Messmer is around if he's gone to bed or not, so you tell yourself perhaps it would be best to try and find him.

Scurrying around the Keep, you find his chambers, only to be surprised to find two of his black knights standing guard outside the doors. You feel intimidated, asking if Messmer is around, only for one to answer you.

"I apologise, Lady Tarnished. His Lord is not seeing anyone at this moment."

"Ah." You say, and you're uncertain what to ask next: is he feeling unwell? Has he fallen ill? "Is he alright?"

"Yes, he's... occupied in seeing an audience."

"Alright. Would he be free for a meal?" You question.

"I'm afraid his Lord has already eaten."

Oh. What were you expecting? And where did this question come from? Your cheeks feel warm from embarrassment, and before you can feel further foolishness from it all, you turn on your heel. "Tell him I bind him goodnight then."

You don't wait for their answer, for you're scurrying towards where you believe are the kitchens, bursting through and alerting the staff that remain there. The chefs give you a careful glance before you ask if there's any leftover food. You're given a simple bowl of brown meats in a broth, and a slice of cheese with some bread, leaving you to take it with you as you scurry like a rat back up towards your chambers. By the time you reach your apartments, your chest feels as if it has a pit inside, and you're feeling rather uneasy.

Still feeling self-conscious, you nibbled at your meal until you could not eat any more. You pull the servant bell, calling upon your handmaidens to pour you a bath and to leave a glass of wine for you to have to quell your nerves. How foolish you feel, believing that this stark confidence and friendliness would be accepted by Messmer. He may have allowed your protection, but to believe he would be kind and amicable back? 

Your skin feels flush and warmed to the bone when you step into your bath, leaning your head back as you try to relax. The wine you eye in your hand is almost empty as you reach towards the bottle they left for you, eyeing it carefully.

The words are strange, but your years of learning to dissect the language allowed you to realise the bottle had come from Leyndell. How it arrived in the Shadow realm was a mystery to you, but you slowly sipped it, thinking about how you could've remembered tasting it.

-

A/N: This chapter took so long to write. I've been exhausted from work that I've only been napping! I'm trying to break out of it, but it's been so tiring having no time to myself. Hopefully, things can change.

[ghostofashina]

Thinking of the Age of Duskborn as a scenario that Godwyn returns as a necromancer. And Those Who Live in Death are his children, and also his weapon. "The dead have long been left to wander; what they need is leadership", as said in the Tibia's Summons. The Prince of Death is now their paternal figure, afterall they are the dusk born, but he is also their leader.

But a soulless leader. And he can't retrieve the soul he lost so long ago. He doesn't even know if his soul still exists somewhere in that world. The only thing, the closest thing he has of his own soul, is his family. But even them are dead.

His mother, as a goddess still, is locked gestating the rune that brought him back. As some sort of hope; hope that he, her golden prince, her favorite child, can mend what is broken and, perhaps, mend himself back together. His father is dead, killed in order for him to be brought back as the Lord of those lands. Morgott is killed, sacrificed himself in order to protect their home. Mohg was stolen, his soul ripped out on purpose — just as his own. Messmer succumbed to his own curse, dying alone so far from home. And, as a necromancer, there is his purpose.

He wants his family back. He wants what made his soul real. He will bring them back. Each one of them. And if Messmer's flames could burn body and soul, the Prince of Death's flames can raise the dead. And, at some point, he needs to cross the veil. And find out why Mohg's soul was stolen. Why Messmer was discarded. And why Miquella is still alive, trying desperately to build his own Age of Compassion. And that relationship, until now so dear, so genuine, becomes sour. And the lovely embrace represented by a statue at the Haligtree is something dangerous now.

He drags Morgott with him, as well as Godfrey, so that he can return them to Mohg and rebuild the family. But it is Messmer, his older brother, he takes to his side: because it was how his Mother always intended. The Golden and the Order. And, as twin princes of a distant land from a different game, he can say "Rise, if would... For that is our curse."

[demigoddessqueens]

MESSMER SMUT

a/n - my first ever fic for Elden Ring 🫣 and it’s smut

MDNI, 18+, SMUT, NSFW

Read here on my ao3

[mortuary-reads]

"Giving kindness requires no reward of worth, just as your worth is not diminished by your separation from Grace.”

Embraced in Light

Artwork by @/kem1888 on X

[fiddlesqueak-fables]

Honestly this line took me the fuck out

[reverieparacosm]

May I request Yandere! Varré x GN! Tarnished general headcanons, thank you!

Yandere!Varré x GN!Tarnished general headcanons

Yandere!Varré (Elden Ring) x GN!Tarnished

Warnings: this text contains themes of emotional manipulation, jealousy, possessivenes, sadism, surveillance, stalking, and potential harm

Note: I am 100% sure that Varré is in a relationship with Mogh. Mogh should finally stop being creepy with his half-brother Miquella and get together with his true servant, Varré. (Edit: I played the dlc... I'm sorry Mogh. I take it back)

Varré is deeply devoted to you and would go to great lengths to ensure that you never feel lonely

He constantly seeks your company and showers you with affection and attention, making sure you are always surrounded by his presence

Due to his intense love for you, Varré believes that the best way to protect you and keep you close is by having you join the Mohgwyn Dynasty. He sees it as a way to solidify your bond and ensure your safety

"Our love of Lord Mohg will forever bind us together, in a dynasty of eternal love."

As a former war surgeon, Varré possesses extensive knowledge about medicine and healing

After battles, he takes great care in cleaning your wounds, applying the necessary treatments, and ensuring that you are not hurt or in pain. His skills and expertise make him incredibly efficient at nursing you back to health

Varré has strong reservations about the Roundtable and its potential dangers. He believes that it poses a threat to your safety and well-being, and as such, he becomes determined to convince you to leave it. He will employ various methods, ranging from persuasion to manipulation, in an effort to ensure your departure

"You have the sweetest screams."

Varré exhibits sadistic tendencies in his yandere nature

While he deeply cares for you, he also finds pleasure in exerting control and dominance over you, often through means of pain or psychological manipulation. This sadistic side of his personality can manifest during intimate moments or when he deems it necessary to discipline or protect you

He definitely has a Blood Kink

Varré watches you diligently to ensure your safety at all times. He keeps a close eye on your activities and surroundings, always vigilant for any potential threats or dangers that might come your way

 "Our love will bloom like a rose in full bloom, my sweet lambkin."

Varré has a deep fascination with roses and sees them as a symbol of his love for you

He frequently presents you with bouquets or single roses, carefully chosen and arranged

Varré is intensely possessive and becomes easily jealous when you interact with others

Whether it's a friendly conversation or a casual encounter, he perceives any attention you give to someone else as a threat to his connection with you

He loves to humiliate you

"You are but a pawn, to be used to serve my own selfish needs. You are nothing to me but a tool to further my own goals. So, shut up and do my bidding."

Varré is a master at manipulating your emotions to keep you deeply attached to him. He knows how to exploit your vulnerabilities and insecurities, using them to his advantage

He deeply values and treasures your body, and he desires for you to perceive yourself with the same admiration that he holds for you

His surroundings turn dull whenever he finds himself longing for your presence

You serve as a source of inspiration for him in a certain sense

He becomes excessively focused on you, desiring to uncover every aspect of your being as if he were delving beneath your surface and merging with you

He might even experience instability and express his affection for you through gestures such as sending love notes, creating artwork depicting you, and including the hearts of his rivals accompanied by a message suggesting they wished to give you their heart, which he facilitated

[flameclipseth]

GOLDENFLAME MASTERLIST — Godwyn/Messmer Fanfictions.

From first to last published, a list of my works about them just for record.

An affair from which gold arouse. [ONESHOT] — Mature. — 10,354 Words.

For you alone I'll be weak. [ONESHOT] — Gen. — 1,321 Words.

Nothing awakens flesh like want. [ONESHOT] — Explicit. — 1,898 Words.

We both hold it, the cause and the curse. [ONESHOT] — Mature. — 3,431 Words.

In the warmth of thy sins. [ONESHOT] — Explicit. — 2,628 Words.

The siren's whisper. [ONESHOT] — Explicit. — 5,279 Words.

A Vow of Gold and Flames. [SERIES] PART ONE: The Sun and his Shadow. — Explicit. — 9,147 Words. PART TWO: The Seduction and the Betrayal. — Mature. — 8,754 Words. PART THREE: A Crown for a King. — Explicit. — 12,793 Words. PART FOUR: A God and a Lord. — Explicit. — 18,610 Words.

Will make another post for the future works I'll be posting.

[odysseusdraws]

A prequel to my Malenia comic that I made awhile ago. Considering making a fancomic?

[esperhaniwa]

Foolish tarnish refusing aid from a lovely maiden.

[omenhaara]

THERE ARE TWO MORE TREE SENTINELS IN THE DLC THAT YOU CAN FIGHT AND STILL NOT ENOUGH FANFICS

[zephyrins]

hello, Messmer lovers! I wrote another fic for you

Once upon a Sin

Messmer\Tarnished hurt, comfort, fluff, humor, and a little bit of angst

Messmer without Marika’s aid cannot hold the abyssal serpent any longer and has only one option — accept his true form.

Chapter 1 read on Ao3!

[rennsdeaddoves]

Heyoooo

Here is that Messmer fic 🫣

Price of Grace, M, GN reader (soft boy Messmer)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57695605

I didn’t know if you wanted me to answer this but your fic needs to be shared. (I will delete this if you request)

First thing first- 10/10 100000000/10 damn- the way you wrote Messmer and the tarnished…. Gods be good. The first two chapters were a great hook, I was excited to see where it went, the desire both had, the curiosity Messmer had- it was so well done in chapter three. The tension you had built released in such a good way. And then chapter four conveyed their growing feelings.

I read your note at the end of four. That if we wanted a happy ending this was it. And I was gonna stop- I did t want my heart to be ripped out but curiosity compelled me. I needed to see the real, intended end- angst be dammed.

Chapter five was a punch to the gut- that ending had me sucking in a gasp and praying that the tarnished would come back, that Messmer would embrace them and not be so foolish again. But no. Chapter six greeted me with an empty throne room, an eye, and the destruction of stone and the lands between. It’s like the tarnished embraced their own version of the frenzied flame but it was just Messmer and their longing to see him again. And those final words

“O how I have missed thee, Pyrefly.”

How dare you do that to my heart. I will be thinking of those words forever now. They will not be ones that leave me easily. Hell, I’ll probably use them in my own fic as a nod to yours.