#elden ring x you

[trulyumai]

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. 

[wxnheart]

yandere!messmer x reader.

Messmer who encounters his mongrel intruder time and time again, and time and time again, they fall only to come back and challenge him. And time and time again, he finds himself fixated on you and your determination to see your journey through. The same journey put upon you by his mother. The same mother who doomed him to hell.

Messmer who figures he could kill two birds with one stone. If Marika could deny him the tranquility of life, he would deny her and her purpose the freedom that came with death. And he would do so with you by his side. And so Messmer waits for your return, his tainted love bereft of light.

Messmer who sits and contemplates your end goal. What could you possibly hope to achieve on this journey? What could you possibly hope to gain from Marika's ambitions? No matter. What you want, what you seek, the Light couldn't possibly give, but his flame would provide you with warmth.

Messmer who almost contemplates pursuing you himself rather than letting you come to him again. What an interesting turn of events. Initially, you were met with faint incredulity. Faint incredulity became annoyance, annoyance became anticipation, and anticipation became impatience for who else could fall and rise back up again to challenge him but his determined love? He loves and hates you for it.

Messmer who begins to obsessively track your whereabouts from the comfort of his hold. He has eyes and ears everywhere in this shadowed land. Nothing goes unnoticed under his watch. Messmer who feels this... exhilaration when he learns you're near. And so he prepares to strike.

Messmer who's never fully embraced the excitement of battle until now as his plan comes to fruition. Messmer whose strikes are hard-hitting, his evades frustrating, and his anger and desire clear for all to see. Except, perhaps, for you.

Messmer who defeats you yet again, but instead of dealing the finishing blow, long fingers grab your chin and—wait, he's kissing you. Messmer who tightens his grip as you try to pull away. It's firm, overwhelming, and harsh.

Messmer whose smile is small and serene compared to your confused countenance, singular eye glowing ominously in the half-lit room. Messmer whose smile remains intact even as you question and try to pull away. Messmer who simply murmurs, "My consort..." and your blood runs cold.

Messmer, he who was denied peace, finds his own, and it comes at your expense. If he could not be free of the abyss, you cannot run toward the light. All is as it should be: his mother's dream and your ambition reduced to ashes by his flame. And peace comes at last.

[lxvvie]

[If you've not played or finished the DLC yet, read at your own discretion!]

Being in a relationship with Messmer the Impaler consists of:

The initial beginnings of your relationship are a... blur. At least they were for Messmer. He's yet to understand how this happened to him but happened it did. Whether it's a trick of the light or his mother's intrusion, he's not sure but he'll entertain his mongrel intruder for the time being.

He does remember your attempts to engage him in simple talk, however. They were humorous, admittedly. You'd talk and talk and he'd simply stare at you.

Realizing that for all of Messmer's cold brilliance, your getting close to him makes you privy to just how self-loathing he truly is. If you thought Morgott was bad, Messmer may arguably have him beaten. All things considered, you can't blame him.

Messmer being hot and cold when it comes to physical affection, even though he stubbornly refuses to admit he's touch-starved. It's equal parts self-loathing (again) and his serpent... er, companion. His serpent companion who's quite curious of you. His serpent companion whose snoot you've taken to booping seeing as it stays in your personal space. You've... done this to Messmer, too, with varying results.

To piggyback off of this, Messmer is a walking, talking furnace. Good for when there's a nip in the air.

Finding his voice to be so sonorous you could listen to him speak all day if you could. Messer fails to understand this. In fact, he just thinks his voice is just like any other.

Asking him about his upbringing and Messmer remaining tight-lipped about it. He might occasionally give you something, but that's about it. However, he's more interested in your life and how you became Tarnished and managed to make your way down here and gain his affection.

For all his disdain for his mother, there is an interest in knowing the current affairs of the Lands Between that Messmer has kept under wraps. Until you, that is. It's adorable whenever he gets curious and asks you to tell him about it. If things were different and he wasn't cursed, he could... he really could have... Mother...

His interest really piques when you tell him about Jarburg, though.

Surprise kisses. Because not? If they don't do anything else, they hilariously and adorably throw Messmer off and he'll get flustered. He'll never not be thrown off by your affection and he likes it more than he cares to admit.

[freyito]

ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʜ ʙᴇᴀᴛꜱ

✭ pairing(s): messmer x gn reader

★ 'hearth' /härTH/ ✱ used as a symbol of one's home.

✩ in which: messmer understands the meaning of home. or you had a bad day. (as is common in the lands between)

✧ a/n: messmerrrrrr i missss yewwww (writing this while i stare at my messmer statue)

🗒 cw: gn reader, tarnished reader, comfort, proofread

✎ wc: 1.3k

Comfort is a lost art on Messmer. Long gone are the days of being cradled in his mothers arms when he had a bad dream, or her soft words when he had a bad day. What he was left with now was an emptiness that he never could seem to fill, one that clawed its way through his heart. No matter how many times he had raised his spear, how many times he had repeated those words, over and over, nothing made home there.

Aside from now, at least. He could wallow as much as he wanted to, mourn what he wanted with his mother, and that wouldn’t change the fact that he had a Tarnished curled up on his chest, sobbing. You were the first Tarnished to not raise your weapon when faced with him, and in a moment of weakness, he was compelled to take you in. ‘Like a pet’ he rationalized in his head. He didn’t expect to get so attached, but within you, he saw something more. Stripped of your light, yet still standing. For once, to him, it was honorable. And so, here you were, head pressed against his chest, heaving softly as you tried to blink away the tears that welled in your eyes.

He is so very warm, akin to the warmest blanket you’ve known against the cold that had gradually seeped into your very bones. The cold that persisted within the Lands Between. It was a bitter feeling you were rather intimate with, the way your fingers stung no matter the padding of your armor, your bones weary and tired. You had grown so used to the abuse thrown your way, the way the world piled its own weight against you every step of the way. You were familiar with just how deep the world cut into you, and always prided yourself on just how much you could withstand. The scorn others cast upon you, the reminder that Tarnished were lesser, it was crammed into your head. And yet, you persevered. All you could do was wipe the blood, spit, and rain off your face and continue on.

But it wore you down. The Lands Between could not suffer sensitivity, and all you could ever do was keep walking forward. You could not rest, no, for it felt as if the entire world was against you. All you could do was kill, push forward, and kill again. It has inevitably taken its toll, as all things do. You could care less about the Grace of Marika now, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of something. Preferably your partner. And yet, even as you curled up against Messmer’s chest, his warmth does nothing to dull the biting cold that’s made its home within your very bones. You wanted nothing more than to be swaddled and coddled like a babe, sang to sleep, even. You wanted your cries to be heard, not pushed aside in favor of battle.

And Messmer knew that feeling all too well. To be shunned yet still borderline worshiped, somehow honored despite being such a wretched thing. And yet, he fell short. All he could do was simply breathe, too afraid to do anything with his hands or console you with his words. Despite how much he longed for the same treatment you crave so desperately at this moment, he had never thought of how he would go about it. And yet, he couldn’t just let you wallow alone, he wouldn’t let you suffer another minute, not alone, at least.

You take a deep shuddering breath, unable to quell the uncertainty and fear that ails you. Even the thought of resting was horrifying, all your body had known was strife and to take a break was as if you were asking yourself to die. The creeping dread intertwined with the pain spreading through your chest, which only made for a worse reaction.

Tentatively, Messmer’s fingers stroke through your hair, his nails scratching ever so lightly at your scalp. He is careful not to be too rough, quite aware of his size compared to yours. His other hand is placed firmly on the small of your back, shuffling beneath you, readjusting your body so your ear lay against his chest. His breathing is steady, chest rising and falling calmly as you whine. His heart beats against your ear, even, yet it stutters every now and then. Whether it’s his nerves or just how flustered he is to be so close to you, you are unsure. But it’s a gentle lullaby, something that stills your racing mind, yet doesn’t stop the tears that flow.

His serpents tense ever so slightly, unsure of what to do as is Messmer. Yet, they relax as your sobs slow, resting over your tired limbs. All Messmer can do is offer soft shushes, in the same way his mother had offered when he was a fussy babe. Yet, he feels as if he is lacking, missing something. All he wants is to quell your fears and calm you down, and yet he knows he cannot tell you that everything will be okay. He knows that is a lie. But he does not deny you the catharsis of bawling until your throat is raw. He can do more, he tells himself, but he freezes in his own fluster, unable to act on what he wishes to do. At least for the time being. He simply stares down at you as you sob helplessly against him.

What follows is a painful silence in the hollow chamber, wracked with your sniffles and heaves. Messmer shifts near uncomfortably beneath you, not because he is embarrassed, but simply because he doesn’t know what to do. Or if what he’s about to do would be seen as okay. He feels rather bold, yet anxious as his hands drift to your waist, pushing you up until your face is level with his. Close, so very close, is all he can think as he looks upon your crying face, wet, puffy, and vulnerable. You watch as his face softens quickly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, his eye glossy, as if he, too, is feeling your pain.

He presses his lips to your cheekbone, just under your eye, a gentle kiss to ward away your fear. You can feel his entire body heat up by this simple act, and even in your blurred vision you can tell just how bright his cheeks burned. He had kissed you a million times before, and yet he could never dull the awkwardness or rush he felt. Yet, he presses another kiss to your cheek, and another. He continues to kiss away your tears, and in doing so, turns your harsh shuddering into light laughs. His kisses are ticklish, and while you were almost content to wallow in your misery, you couldn’t help but laugh. Which has Messmer beaming.

A warmth spreads through him that was just once kindling, now a blazing flame. One that is imperceptible to you, but means the world and more to Messmer. It quells the ever-burning flame within, the one he had learned to hate and yet wield as a weapon. Replaced by something that was just simply warm. Like a summers day, one that has long since faded from the Land of Shadow, yet akin nonetheless. He can’t put his finger on it. When he looks at you, however, that warmth grows hotter, and hotter, and then dulls into the comforting embrace of a blanket, or the fur of a kitten underneath his fingers. It is not like the love that he sought and begged for all these years, no, it is something different. He knows it is different. And as he looks upon your tear streaked face, still slightly red, but graced with a smile nonetheless, he himself cannot help but smile. A gentle look that he has not shared in ages.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

[  FIRST  ]: sender tells the receiver “i love you” for the first time.

Blaidd didn’t trust many people, hell he swore the amount people he actually trusted was less than ten but then you stumbled upon him. A Tarnished, someone who was stripped of their grace.

He didn’t know what to make of you at first, you were much smaller than most humans he ran into yet he’s watched you take down creatures 10x your size. He was impressed yet he wouldn’t admit it.

And then he started to grow closer to you, started to bond with you. You did not speak much yet when he did he could not help but be memorized by your voice, your laughter and it was then he finally realized that he loved you and what does one do with information like this?

Run away of course, he wasn’t even sure he can look you in the eyes.

You did you best to find the half wolf, your heart clenching painfully in your chest when you realized he was avoiding you yet know matter how much it hurt you knew couldn’t just confront him about it so with a heavy heart you carried on.

It wasn’t until you had gotten injured that the half breed appeared at your side. You were in an out of consciousness when you first noticed him. He was speaking to your maiden, something you couldn’t understand but you did feel his warmth. You felt him place his heavy paw on your head wishing you would get well, hoping you would get well but that’s when you heard it.

Barley a whisper, you had thought it might have been a hallucination brought on by the fever yet he said it again, his muzzle pressed into your neck.

“I love you.”

You smiled, falling in a blissful sleep. You loved him too and once your sickness was gone you would tell him you felt the same you.

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

People playing Elden Ring and looking for the "good" demigod to root for are missing the point. Pick your favorite mass murdering war criminal megalomaniac with mommy issues and endlessly simp for them like the rest of us, cowards.

[largemandrill]

I made another one

[hustlebonezzz]

A flash of confidence followed by the immediate fear of ruining something dear. On the other hand, the ready reciprocation and the disillusion of a deeper meaning.

Continued

[ouchlord-vivaldi]

[eldenbiscuit]

Finally found that prattling pate in the Impaler’s Catacombs

[visciozx]

Messmer x You (Sketches.)

One particular sketch is a ship art, but pretend its you if you dont like it lol

[trulyumai]

care for me?

pairing: Messmer the Impaler / Wife! Reader

synopsis: exhausted, you try to stay up for the arrival of your husband. only he doesn’t come back the same man.

wk: 1.1k

warnings: mention of death, violence. mostly fluff

A/N: EJ come, water! (no seriously enjoy Messmer lovers) this was a request, thank you for the suggestion anonymous!

Enjoy!

It was so cold.

Dreary winds busted across the little home, invading the shack with freezing temperatures that nipped at one’s bones.

The girl of said residence could not battle such a feat alone; so she lay bundled up in many cottons and wools that cascaded her form just in front of the fire pit.

With her teeth clanking together, she drew in a particular large blanket that seemed to swallow her whole being.

She was trying— attempting, to stay away for her husbands arrival.

“He— he will be here soon,” giving herself words of comfort, little fingers smoothed over the skin of her arm.

Back and forth they went, seeking any form of warmth they could gather.

But, she was getting tired. It had been hours since his departure.

So, with a defeated huff, her lashes fluttered.

Eyes now shut, her form slumped against the wooden boards.

Maybe she could greet her doting husband upon the fields of dreams

Everything went wrong.

His mother… his own mother…

A cry, weak and low left Messmers lips as he shuddered in pain—agony.

Instead of telling the citizens, the people what had been done of the shadow lands of between, his mother lied.

She blamed the knight of flames for his part in the destruction. Blamed him for the plans, the deaths, the innocent lives gone—

“O, Mother!” Just outside the home, Messmer sat. His head tilted towards the ground in shame as his long nails twisted and pulled at his cheeks.

Blood seeped down almost instantly, yet he couldn’t find the energy to care.

Tears streamed down his face in waves, meeting the bloody patches along the way.

His nails tore and scratched at any skin that came in contact, only making his wounds worse.

“Does thou… not perceive mine own consciousness?” A yellowed Iris glanced forth upon the house.

His home.

Only now realizing he made it back, a shudder ran through him.

“Wife,” he whimpered. “Please… forgive me.”

Only the sound of wind greeted his ears, as his now bloody and weakened form pushed against the stone. Slowly making his way to the wooden door merely a foot away.

The flowers lay dormant, the fields around him lay bare and dead. Much like the lands he left behind his wake.

With bodies, upon bodies—

“Augh! No more!” With a slam, the door receded against his strength, banging out against the wall behind.

The ball of blankets jumped up in surprise, a head peeked out from the warm egg shaped cocoon the girl placed herself in.

Messmers eyes softened upon such a sight, he couldn’t help but let out a little smile seeing the girls attempt to warm herself.

“little wife,” he called. Already on his way to the girl sitting about the floor.

“husband!” she cried, reaching out her hands to signal for the man’s embrace.

He gladly accepted, sweeping her into his arms and cradling her head soothingly.

“I’ve missed you,” little sweet kisses dotted across his neck, to his jaw and up the face.

“What— what happened?” Her lips met with a red and open wound, to which the flame winced at.

He had forgotten about such a display.

“It’s nothing, dear wife,” big palms rubbed along her sides. “an accident, nothing more.”

Fear began to corrode his mind, it crumbled and tore at the seams of sanity.

People will come for him.

For his betrayal, his slaughter.

His wife— gods what has he done?

A hand pulled him back, it was soft and careful as it cradled the man’s left cheek.

“It’s okay,”

She didn’t know what was wrong, only that something was amiss.

For the man was troubled, that much was clear.

“I… listen closely, my heart.” Setting her upon the ground he looked down at her form, so much smaller than his own.

His back had to bend uncomfortably to meet her gaze but he ignored such pain.

Big palms surrounded her face, angling her eyes to meet with his.

“We need to go, does thou need anything before our leave?”

“Leave?” She shrieked. “This is our home… why would we leave so—“

“Please, please wife understand me so. I cannot dote on such a matter yet but please.” A desperate yellowed eye looked upon both of hers

“I will protect thee. With mine own blade, with mine own body. But we need to leave, most ardently”

Confused and somewhat scared, the girl could do nothing but nod her head. Even when he placed a mirage of kisses upon her, she did nothing but look upon the man.

Almost as if to study him— understand him.

Soon, she was lightly pushed into the direction of their room.

“Grab what thy can carry and need.” Messmer had said.

So she did.

She grabbed her favorite blanket, the one that had been with her since birth.

She grabbed her jewelry box that lay full of gifts from the knight.

And finally, she grabbed the last vials of homemade oils. Lavender scented, which always seemed to calm her husband down whenever it graced her soft skin.

Seeing his wife’s hands full, Messmer acted. Gently picking her up, the objects shifted about as a bridal style posture was given upon her.

Head now bumping with his armor with every movement, she decided to speak.

“Are you alright, husband?”

This was an opening.

A pristine opportunity to tell her of his forthcomings.

Of his tidings with his mother.

Of the burning lands.

Even of the soon to be castle that will be there home for god knows how long.

Messmer only looked down, peacefully admiring his wife so.

“Everything will be fine, my wife. Thou can sleep while the travel begins.”

He was a coward. Biting down upon his cheeks blood ran across his tongue, to the back of his throat.

Past all the lies and short comings, two thing stay true; he adored his wife

and he would do anything to protect her.

[wxnheart]

Messmer is smitten with you, Tarnished, so much so that it's downright sickening to him, and while he would love nothing more than strip away the bonds of the Impaler and be something more, its nature is intrinsic to his very being now. And so he leans into the spite just as much as he does his desire. Rather than let Marika have what she wants, he decides to put himself first. And there you are, with him, the Impaler, his love bereft of light, redemption fleeting, but Marika's vengeance turned to dust.

[lxvvie]

A relationship with Morgott the Omen King would consist of:

Embodying the quintessential enemies/frenemies to lovers trope.

Morgott being fascinated by the obvious size difference and as a result, he's much gentler with you.

Bickering like an old married couple. Well, Morgott does.

On the other hand, you think he's your living, breathing jungle gym and so you take every moment you can to just... be all over him.

Him not understanding your fascination with his tail. It's not uncommon to find you playing with it or— are those... flowers wreaths? On his tail?

Of course, Morgott highkey lowkey indulges your fascination, teasing you by holding his tail high enough so you can't reach it.

Chiding Morgott for his self-care. Or lack thereof. It's improved with your help.

Trying to convince him to change that cloak of his to something not so tattered but Skrunklegott can't be bothered so... there's that. For now. You're totally gonna get Boc to rectify this.

Morgott leaning into your touch whenever you touch his horns. Or his face. Hell, whenever you touch him, he's a goner.

Strolls in nature outside of Leyndell. Sometimes you walk alongside him, sometimes you don't and his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable.

Beholding the Erdtree together at night. This is also when you two shared your first kiss.

Morgott being the first to say those three words. You thought it was cute how flustered he was. Morgott was so shocked by his confession (he blurted it out) that he was about to take it back out of embarrassment until you smiled and told him you loved him, too.

Morgott highkey planning your future with him because let him tell it, he knew early on that you'd be his consort.

[freyito]

Hi! Not a fic request but I’m just interested in what you think messmers love languages are? Since Elden ring isn’t really commonplace for romance how do you think he’d fare in that department?

✧ a/n: (evil grin) its gonna be treated like a request anyways cause ive thought abt this a lot. a lot a lot a LOT thank you for enabling me anon

✭ pairing: messmer x gn reader

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 447 (short n sweet)

I think he’s a pretty quaint mix of all of the love languages, but three stand out to me the most. Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation, and Quality Time. Acts of Service is a big one for him as well, but doesn’t match up to those three.

Let’s talk Physical Touch first. Messmer tends to shy away from it, yet crave it heavily. In a land scarred with war, it is hard to accept a kind hand when all you’ve known are those that dig daggers into your flesh. With you, however, it’s different. He doesn’t fear your hands, scarred as they may be.

When he’s comfortable, he seeks out your touch every time he gets the chance to. He’s quite fond of holding your hands whenever, especially when your hands are cold. He takes great pride in being able to use his flame for something other than burning. He also quite loves to cuddle, as funny as it sounds. He rests easier when he’s with you, although he’s still a very, very light sleeper (which is common in the Lands Between as a whole).

With Words of Affirmation, I believe he genuinely quite likes to be praised and at least told that he’s doing a good job, since the very praise he had been looking for was kept from him for years upon years. To hear such validation practically makes him putty in your hands. But everything with him stands on equal ground, and he will praise you right back.

How brave you are, battling in the Lands Between, an admirable soul. In fact, he almost showers you in praise, sometimes it’s a little uncanny. He isn’t the most vocal, and yet when it comes to you, he’s quite the poet. He finds it easier to love you through words rather than touch, as much as he seeks it out.

Messmer is more than happy to spend his free time with you, actually. When he fails with his words and his hands, he is content to simply share the same space with you. Often times he will be content to be in the same room, either reading together, or even napping together. Something he felt he could never afford then.

Quality Time just means a lot to him, to have someone that doesn’t mind being around him, that isn’t afraid of him, that could be devoted to him in a way his Fire Knights aren’t, it’s a blessed thing, really. He will show you the same devotion, perhaps even tenfold, when he is confident that this love is true. To have someone show him that love does exist, it’s a beauty he never even thought of.

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Still true

It’s 1:30 am and like

I’m totally not saying that I want to be dicked down by

Maliketh:

And

Blaidd

THATS A FUCKING LIE, I DO