#rogier x reader

[khunkhai]

[just-mothman]

Waiting with you: Thiollier x Tarnished

Synopsis: When a familiar Tarnished makes their way to Thiollier's Cliff, he wasn't sure what to expect. But such an open display of emotion was certainly on the bottom of his list. Still, he found himself unable to let them cry alone.

Tags/Warnings: previous partner death (Rogier, Implied), Grieving, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends

Author's Note: It has been a while since I've wrote fan-fic to publish, but this sad little lad man convinced me to. I'm a little rusty, so apologies if it reads a little awkwardly. The story includes my Tarnished, Conrí, specifically, and uses they/them pronouns (for ease of reading, since technically they use any).

Enjoy.

Unlike almost everywhere else in the Land of Shadow, the cliff on which Thiollier sat seemed to be the most peaceful. Despite it overlooking a poison-filled swamp, the quietude it offered was something rare. The air seemed fresher here too, gently wafting the grass into waves. Perhaps this is why Conrí decided to stop at this grace. Dismounting Torrent, they lifted a hand of Rowa fruit for him to eat before he dissipated into blue sparks. With a sigh, they looked over at the empty sea just a distance away from the cliff. With heavy steps, they wander over to the Grace, sitting down beside it. Their head tilted over to the sickly man sat on the few rocks, the strands of white hair from his headdress lightly floating in the breeze.

Thiollier had noticed their presence yet had not looked up, as he was unable to halt the trembling he felt. It had been with him since their first meeting. Conrí uttered no words, yet their ghostly eyes peering through their tangled black hair had sent strikes of fear up Thiollier’s spine. Even when they first acknowledged the Site of Grace, he couldn’t stop noticing the unrelenting presence of death that hung around them at every moment. So, he had become even more quiet around them, finding it best just to not take note of them and keep his head down.

But despite this, something of a morbid curiosity had welled up within him about the silent Tarnished. Carefully, he looked up from his hunched position. As usual, their eyes appeared unblinking as they looked at the golden light of the Grace. Despite this, Thiollier could sense something else within the engulfing fear he felt when looking at their seated form. Something melancholic? He was uncertain what it was, but the curiosity stirred stronger in his breast and kept him from tearing his eyes away.

With slow, methodical movements, Conrí reached forward and pushed their hand into the Grace. Their hand did not come out the other side, yet they barely seemed phased. Thiollier was much less nonchalant, a jolt of surprise making him jump in his spot. Their hand seemed to plunge further into it, a furrow appearing on their brow in concentration. It seemed that almost their whole forearm had been plunged into the sparkling gold before they became still.

Meticulously, Conrí’s arm came back through the golden light, their hand firmly gripping a hilt. As they pulled further back, a thin, silver blade slipped through the Grace. Once the sword had been fully removed, Thiollier was able to get a better look at it.

The metalwork was precise, as would be needed for a rapier. The hilt was slender, a red gemstone neatly placed in the centre of two ornamental, wing-like swirls that formed the guard. It appeared incredibly clean, polished to a bright shine that reflected the very grace it came from. It appeared to be too delicate to be wielded by someone with such brute strength, Thiollier thought to himself.

Rolling the rapier in their hands, Conrí’s gaze seemed to soften, much to Thiollier’s surprise. The near-piercing pale blue of their irises looked much softer in this moment. They sighed deeply behind the black cloth that hid the lower half of their face, a barely audible hitch in the noise. Closing their eyes, they pulled the sword’s hilt to their forehead, gently resting it there. The glint of light coming off their eyelashes developed into tears that smudged away their smeared-on makeup. Silently, they sat there. Unmoving.

Thiollier was lucky to be wearing his porcelain mask, as his mouth hung ajar and his eyes were blown wide. This wall of death, this Goliath of a warrior, was sat crying in front of him. His thoughts moved faster than he could keep up, finding every preconception of the Tarnished before him was wrong. He sighed quietly. He didn't have the heart to leave them be. He stood up unsteadily, legs feeling weak as he did so. Like a cat, he slowly and carefully sneaked over to Conrí, who too deep in their own thoughts to notice him. Despite every part of his body telling him to run, to sit back in his spot and forget this had happened, he instead lowered himself to sit near them.

It took a few moments for Conrí to notice the timid fellow at their side. Only when the scent of lavender and lilies had crossed there senses did they turn to him. It was a quick motion, which caused Thiollier to tense up. Yet their eyes did not appear so threatening now, just sorrowful. Their arms cradled the Rapier like it was glass, and would shatter with the slightest pressure.

"It... Seems important to you," Thiollier began, breaking the silence with his wobbly voice, "Was it from a friend?"

Conrí looked down and, after some consideration, shook their head 'no' and hunched over the sword once again.

"Something more?" He pried slightly.

Clutching the rapier closer to their body, Conrí's trembling gave Thiollier the answer he needed. With an incredibly light hand, he rubbed their shoulder. Despite not really feeling it through their layers of armour and cloth, the gesture was rewarded with a slight lean into it. This seemed to spark some confidence in the masked man, shuffling over to sit right beside them. Thiollier saw himself, then Conrí's scrunched eyes, reflected in the Rapier's blade.

Inky tears dripped on the blade, leaving makeup residue as they continued their journey down the length of silver. Reaching into his pouch full of poisons, the white-haired man pulled a near-clean cloth. Raising himself to his knees, his hand extended towards the swords hilt. Conrí jerked it away protectively, eyes now glaring at him in their usual, inhuman ferosity. Steeling his nerves, Thiollier did not pull his had away.

"I just want to wipe it down. You can keep hold of it, just turn the blade to me." His voice broke, betraying him and allowing some of that bottled up fear to slip out.

Carefully, Conrí rotated the blade in their grip and pointed it towards their companion. Once positioned for Thiollier, they pulled their right arm from the hilt and wiped at their face with the cloth of their undershirt. They felt the slightest dip in the rapier's position as Thiolier brushed up the blade with tentative precision. He quickly restored it's shine, each meaningful stroke of his hand restoring the luster the metal started with.

"There," he started, "It should be all good now."

Conrí remained silent, yet nodded their head in recognition. Slowly, they lifted the sword to inspect it, before slipping the tip of the blade back into the grace. They placed the sword back to it's original place the way they had before: slowly and methodically. Thiollier still had question as to how that was possible, but they waited in the back of his mind for another day.

The two remained seated on the cliff, the wind gently tugging on their hair. Both seemed at peace in the comfortable silence that now held them. Thiollier noticed, in this silence, his shaking had ceased to overwhelm him. He looked to Conrí, whose eyes no longer wept, and instead looked wistfully out at the ocean ahead. The feeling of dread and fear ebbed away.

They waited for a while, until Conrí stood up and summoned Torrent to continue their predestined journey. They waved back at Thiollier, who stayed seated in the grass.

How funny, he thought, that such tenderness could come from one so seemingly menacing. And, as much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't help but hope they would come to see him again soon.

[poisonousroxstar]

Hello there! I really want to ask you for some proposal fluff with Rogier from Elden Ring (x fem!reader pls) Omg there is practically no appreciation for this fine man in eng fandom:(

Bite-sized Imagine

Marrying Rogier

Plot Summery: some general headcanons for marrying Spellblade Rogier This Contains: Angst (major character death), fluff, self-doubt (not receiving). Note(s): this was cute. Decide to just do some regular stuff and not some yandereness this time! Not sure about this, but I'll try again in the future if I feel like it.

Rogier didn't know why, but he found you comforting. It was a nice feeling, especially with how distorted and corrupt the Lands Between were. It's no wonder that eventually you two wind up in a relationship together.

If he's the one who proposes to you, he'll be very causal about it, mentioning it in conversation before digging deeper. He's especially prone to doing this if he knows his end is closing in, such as having deathroot sickness and such. He'd like to have a few more memories before he passes, especially if you've really wanted this yourself.

If you're the one who proposes to him, he's surprised but very...happy, at the idea. He's scared, but any reassurance you give him will calm his nerves slightly. Besides, he loves you a lot... and he isn't sure how long either of youse will last. So, he'll happily agree to the proposal.

When it comes to the wedding, the event won't be that glamorous, sadly. This is the Lands Between after all, there isn't much beauty to be found. Still, he tries to make it as charming as possible for the both of you. It'll be a simple ceremony, likely not many people being there. But youse have each other, and that's all that's needed. The night is beautiful, and the moment is wonderful. His heart has never felt so light, so...hopeful.

"I love you" Rogier says, smiling so gently. So warmly. This is a moment he'll never forget, never once in his life. The Lands Between is a harsh, cold world. No matter how hopeful and how light he feels, Rogier knows that this won't last forever. Not in a world like this.

So for as long as you'll let him. For as long as you love him, and for as long as he lives. Rogier will hold you deeply in his heart. His fair maiden eternal.

[velvet-apricots]

I have a perfect idea for Rogier/reader scenario! Maybe you can write how reader saved Rogier from the death curse. I would like it be a friends to lovers and female pronounces! ILY, dearest 💖

Instead of going down alone into the depths below Stormveil, Rogier is convinced by his new friend to take her along with him. Godrick can wait, he helped her with Margit, she can help him with this.

They defeat the ulcerated tree spirit together with a bit of effort and go deeper. They discover the massive head. Rogier gets to close and is deathblighted.

The infection won't clear up, so Rogier's legs start festering with the deathblight, and his friend is determined to help him. She thinks healing incantations can cure him, but she has none that are powerful enough.

She starts a journey to get to Lyndell, so she can find anything there to cure him. She visits him regularly while she travels, and over time they grow closer and closer. As she gains more knowledge of healing, she helps stave off the infection with boluses and other spells she can get her hands on.

She eventually gets her hands on the Golden Order principa prayer book, and learns law of regression. This is what she needs! She returns to Rogier and uses it on him and manages to clear his deathblight, or at the very least cut it back and keep it under control, like one would a plant that grows wildly.

"You are amazing." he says to her, and she can only kiss him in response. He is surprised but he kisses her back.

Alternatively, and more morally reprehensible:

She may do something similar to what Ranni did and with the use of the dagger she gets, set forth on killing someone and Rogier at the same time to put him into a new body. Seluvis may be involved as well. His soul is put into this new body as a result.

He might not like these actions however, so lets go with the incantation route. =3

[wxnheart]

Rogier Christmas snuggles?

You felt the soft brush of his lips against your forehead.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself getting lost (yet again) in the emerald depths of the sorcerer's own.

He doesn't have to say anything. Never does. The look in the man's eyes and his smile tells it all.

Oh yeah, today's going to be spent in bed. You reach up, grab a fistful of hair, and bring his face down.

Your lips crash together and Rogier moans greedily. Yeah, it's gonna be a long day in bed.

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

i’m not sorry for this ask but any bottom rogier headcanons?

Bottom!Rogier

Can be a bratty bottom sometimes. Is very much a pouty one.

A master of innuendoes when it comes to your sex life. Usually makes you do a double-take.

Whereas someone like, say, Morgott or Diallos would think it so damn vulgar (and so damn pleasurable) to let their inner slut shine, Rogier embraces it wholly.

His favorite position is cowgirlboy.

Rogier is very much a service bottom; of course, he wants to get his but he very much enjoys seeing his partner come undone from his touch.

Can come from penetration alone. Same with fingering.

Isn't selective with his partners. He is selective with who gets to fuck him. The most you'd get out of him if you weren't involved is some head. Tops.

Sex for Rogier is both an intimate act and a stress reliever.

Is apparently a bit of a possessive bottom, too. Once you've left your mark on him and he on you, you are HIS.

May or may not assert his... not!dominance (?????!?!?!?) publicly in order to show other people that you are his and he is yours. It's... rather subtle if you didn't know Rogier personally but seeing as you do know him, well...

May or may not employ some... magic into y'all's sex life. Yeaaaaaah.

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

NSFW: rogier trying to look sexy while wearing *only* the gigantic hat

Rogier staring you down with the sultriest pair of bedroom eyes you've ever seen. He is a sight to behold, a canvas of smooth skin and toned muscles ready to be marked, to be claimed. The pale crimson of his blush makes his green eyes stand out even more.

"Was... was this alright?" Rogier's voice was soft and laced with uncertainty.

His fears were short-lived, however, as you didn't hesitate to envelop him in your arms; the urgency of your kiss revealed the depths of your desire more than words ever could, and, reciprocating your embrace, he fell even further into ecstasy.