#wylder x reader

[khunkhai]

[nemumiruku]

What I imagine the Nightfarers would do with you on Valentines.

Wylder

He treats the day like a man on a mission, having secretly prepared for weeks. First, you wake to the smell of warm buns and berries, and he sits beside you with a proud little grin as he’s super excited for the occasion. After breakfast, the morning then turns playful when you both end up teasing a pack of demi-humans, laughing breathlessly as you sprint away before they realize what you have done. The whole day feels like that, bright and light and a little reckless. Next, he brings you through fields where wild flowers grow in impossible colors and gathers them for you until your arms are full. Short adventures follow after your lungs are full with floral pollen, just small discoveries in the folds of Limveld, perhaps some fights that end with shared triumphs. By the evening, he is back in the kitchen, humming while he prepares a dish from his tribe, something rich and beautifully spiced. Later, behind his door, the night becomes soft and private and yours alone. Ironeye

He pretends the holiday is beyond him, but anyone who knows him can see that something shifts whenever he looks at you. I can see his gifts appearing in moments when you are least expecting them, small pieces of jewelry chosen with a precision that speaks of how deeply he adores you. Since there is not much to do, he'll take you hunting around the forest of Limveld. Let it be big animals or small, he just wants to show off his astounding skills for your eyes alone. Then when the excitement fades, the two of you end up stretched beneath a spill of stars, your shoulders touching lovingly as the night grows gentle around you. And he teaches you small assassin tricks, teasing you here and there while his hands roam around your body, until the lessons turn naughty between bodies.

Executor He hardly registers that the day is meant to be romantic. His mind lives among colors and brushstrokes, though there is something endearing in his obliviousness. You have to tug him out of the Hold with his paints, and he follows without any complaint. In a scenic clearing, he sets up his canvas and paints you with breathtaking speed, capturing every detail on your body with zero effort. Once he’s done, he starts to teach you little things about shading and motion, and before you can think twice, you kiss him. It’s hilarious how the shock sends him right into his beast form, flustered and nervous like a stunned puppy. Then, he lets you climb onto his back while he runs across open meadows. The wind tangles your hair, and his joy is so pure when he gets to be in his other form. When he’s finally out of breath and you two stop somewhere for a break, there is a high chance the special day will end with beastly pleasure. Raider

I don’t see him celebrating it. But once he understands the holiday, he sighs loudly and agrees to celebrate because you asked. The two of you drink until your stomachs hurt from laughter, before challenging each other to wrestle and outdrink the other, which he takes you seriously enough that he always wins because that’s how he is. After that, the sea becomes your backdrop as he talks about the monsters he once fought, stories that makes you smile and swoon so hard your cheeks hurt. You two might spend the late afternoon catching fish together and cooking them over a fire, and then wash off in a river, letting the cool water slide over warm your skins before the night turns heated. Guardian

He knows of the day because his folk consider courtship a complicated art. To start it, he cleans himself with extra care, fluttering his feathers to make them all sleek and shining, before offering you a precious pendant he carefully picked out days prior. It’s a shame that he cannot fly you, but he can walk beside you, steady and gentle as you pass breath-taking scenery. The date is short, with you climbing tall trees to pick fruits and berries for him, and him catching you every time you slip. When you point at random birds and call them his cousins or his aunties, he tries to keep a straight face but always fails. Soon, the entire flock would gather around you because he secretly asked them to, making you feel like a princess and he, your knight.

Revenant

As a cursed doll filled with vengeance, it’s difficult for her to put her mind on anything else. She sulks in her corner as usual until you arrive with the idea of a dress-up session and a mock tea party. She protests at first, saying it’s childish while rolling her eyes like a moody teenager. But eventually, she sits with you and her summons gathered around tiny cups. Something soft enters her expression when she remembers her old owner, though she hides it behind playful snark. You brush her hair, and she brushes yours, the two of you drifting to different corners of the Hold as you play. It becomes a tender, peaceful afternoon she secretly treasures.

Duchess

Duty always makes her so restless, but on this day, she lets herself ease for your sake. With the help of her dear butler, the Iron Menial, she sets a dinner table perfectly dressed with wine, delicate silver, and meals she knows you love. Afterward, you ride horses through vast landscapes, sharing the beauty of the land without rushing anything. Then night brings both of you to warm springs where the steam curls around bare skin. With just the two of you, she lets her guard fall completely, touching you with a hunger she rarely displays in front of others.

Recluse

She prefers simple pleasures and shares them with you. The two of you sit among piles of books in the library, reading everything from dusty biographies to absurd romance novels while trading dry remarks and shy laughter. If she is in a generous mood, she shows you a spell or two, little tricks you can use on your next adventure. When the night grows calm, she leads you outside for a waltz under the sky, her magic creating a soft hum that acts as your music. Later, tangled in her bed, the rhythm of her breathing becomes another kind of melody you find yourself lost in.

Undertaker

For this lady, she has no understanding of the holiday because she grew up in a world that denied such feelings. You explain it gently and bring her flowers, introducing her to the idea of romantic love and wholesome devotion, that there’s even a day to honor it. She participates with an almost neutral face, but you can tell she is absorbing everything as you teaches her. From walking together, embracing each others, or even the shy brushes of lips, each one showing her that a life can hold gentleness, too. And life isn’t all about burying the dead. She grows bolder once she understands, enough to pin you against a wall without any warning as her breath warms at your ear, asking if she’s doing it right. Her affection is fierce once she wants to show it.

Scholar

The albinauric man celebrates it eagerly, his youthful spirit shining through the sickness that shortens his years. He fills the room with chatter, always ever so interesting, always so enthusiastic about his studies of floras and faunas, and all the bizarre phenomena he has acquired throughout his years of learning. The strange thing is, you never want him to stop, despite how complicated he might sound. You two share tea and a study session that becomes far more intimate because he cannot help flirting when he is comfortable. His words are charming and honest when he says them. He even lets you read parts of his journal, cheeks flushed as you discover how often he writes about you. For him, this day is easy to celebrate because you are already stitched into his thoughts.

[niyoriix]

꯴wylder-x-femreader꯴

Warnings:Reader wants kids, wylder does too lol,fluff,married couple stuff,a bit suggestive. this is the first time I've written for elden ring as well as wylder so beware this probably sucks. ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

It's a known fact in the clan that wylders always away from home for work, and even when wylder married you, right after the wedding he went back to work. Obviously you didn't get mad at him for this, it's his job and you understand that he can't always be with you(Even though he really wants to be)

Today was one of those rare days though, where you got your husband all to yourself! Which is exactly the reason why he absolutely refuses to let go of you. You only tried getting up for a glass of water and the restroom but he quietly mutters "No no please stay." While Holding onto your waist like you might disappear forever if he doesn't. "Wylder,my dearest, please. As much as I'd love to stay in bed with you, I'd also like to make us something to eat" He hummed before letting go of you slowly. "If you don't love me just say it." He said dramaticly while turning his back to you "I said nothing to hint of something of that sort!" You exclaimed with disbelief. Wylder laughed, oh gosh that smooth laugh made your knees weak(arms heavy dancing in a pool of spaghetti. please get this reference) There's nothing you wouldn't do for him to make him laugh like that again. Anyway..Once you finally got up and made your way to the kitchen, you grabbed yourself a glass of water whilst looking through the window, the children playing with each other as they ran around, it was cute sight, you've always loved children, always wanted a few of your own. But you were just too shy to bring it up with husband. You sighed, Taking a sip of the water you held. you felt a familiar hand slither it's way to your waist. "Dearest, what's made you stare at those lovely children? Does thy wish for a few?" He spoke boldy which made you jump a bit in surprise, had he just read your mind? "Ahem..i-i wouldn't be opposed to having a few young ones..running around" you exclaimed still a bit shocked from what he had said. Wylder smiled, he looked at you with utter devotion. He had yet to tell you that he had been hoping to have a conversation about children soon. He had made a few plans to take a break from working and instead stay home for awhile for some nightly duties–Ahem, he thought the sooner the better.

"Hm, then I suppose we should get to work quickly now" your husband said before grabbing you gently and carrying you back to your shared bedroom.

You were in for a long night..not that you minded of course..

Dividers by:@uzmacchiato <3333

[bri-in-ur-attic]

Wylder x reader I've been working on ao3 hehehe

The Beckoning of Grace (824 words) by BriInUrAttic Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Elden Ring (Video Game), Elden Ring Nightreign (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wylder (Elden Ring Nightreign)/Reader, Wylder/Tarnished Characters: Tarnished (Elden Ring) Additional Tags: Female Tarnished (Elden Ring), tarnished is backup, tarnished is temp nightfarer, roundtable hold grace plays matchmaker, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, tarnished gets isekei'd into nightreign Summary: The call of Grace at the Roundtable Hold beckons you with a new objective. In another universe of the Lands Between, where you are called to Limveld to offer your aid to the Nightfarers to vanquish the Night.

[nemumiruku]

somehow somehow felt like after a long marriage wylder would gained a lot of confident in bed

Over the years, he just gets completely comfortable with wanting you, like the shyness he used to show at first burns away, and what is left is this hungry version of him who is always reaching for you.

He goes from hovering at a distance to treating your body like it's his favorite place to be, touching you whenever he can, sliding closer in bed, pressing himself against you like he needs that contact to breathe. As time goes on, he gets a little clingy in the sweetest, most selfish way, burying his face in your neck, holding you there, letting out these soft needy sounds when you try to move away because he doesn't want to let you go yet.

After a while, he stops pretending he's shy about it and starts getting lazy confident. He just straight up tells you what he wants, whispering dirty little comments in this casual voice like wanting you is as normal as breathing. He loves seeing how you react, and he gets a quiet smugness from it. It turns into routine too, the kind of intimacy that feels lived in, almost domestic, but still so charged with passion that it never gets boring.

Nevertheless, he's still a little desperate underneath it all, like a part of him will always be starving for you. But now that he's bold enough to show it, he'll take his time with you, to enjoy every second he has with you.

Wylder's completely unashamed about how badly he craves you and how completely he has gotten used to having you all to himself. So it would be torture to live without you giving him it.

[nemumiruku]

hmm.....considered about modern AU....

OMG, been thinking about this for forever lol!

Wylder would be that golden boy everyone loves at college, the one who somehow balances being stupidly good at sports and still shows up to every exam ready to ace it.

He is the kind of guy professors like, teammates respect, and parents trust instantly. And yeah, he is your best friend’s brother, the one you never thought too hard about because he was just…always there. You’d go over to hang out and he’d already be in the kitchen with his sleeves pushed up, casually cooking like it's no big deal, laughing with you both like he is part of the background of your life.

The scar on his arm was from a firework accident when he was a kid, something he regularly jokes about, but it sticks in your head every time you see it. Then the party happens where you slept with him by accident. Best blame it on the alcohol for turning every bit of “best friend’s older brother” energy into “you should not be doing this, but you are absolutely not stopping.”

You both laugh it off at first and pretend it was a one-time mistake, but it never stays that way. It turns into this pattern where you swear you’re going to be normal, and then you’re not. Suddenly, you are finding excuses to be at their house more, and he is finding excuses to keep you there, offering to drive you, offering to walk you home, offering to pick you up for coffee while telling himself it's platonic.

And he does take you out, too. Not in some dramatic way, but like he genuinely likes spending time with you. He’ll bring you to little places around campus, late-night diners, the quiet corner bookstore, a boba spot he insists is the best. Or a park where he can snuggle you up on the bench while people sneer at you both because they can't have you do.

He pays for everything regardless. He wins you prizes at stupid little arcade games. He buys you snacks and acts nonchalant, like he isn’t actively spoiling you just to see you smile. He is so sweet in public it almost makes you forget what he is like when you’re alone.

And then you end up back at the house, because you always do. His sister is downstairs watching TV or talking on the phone or making herself food, totally unaware, and Wylder is guiding you upstairs with the same casualness as he has done it a hundred times.

The door clicks shut, and the whole vibe changes. He gets quieter, closer, touchier. All that polite golden boy energy gets stripped off the second he's alone with you. He is careful at first, like he’s listening for footsteps, like he is trying to be good, but you can tell he likes the risk more than he pretends. He’ll keep a hand over your mouth if you laugh too loud, murmuring “shh” and the second the house creaks, he freezes with you, hiding his face in your neck while the two of you try not to make a sound.

He never rushes you out afterward, either. He fixes your clothes because he’s gentle, and then he’ll walk you back downstairs like nothing happened, sitting there at the kitchen counter eating whatever he cooked earlier, acting normal while you’re trying to keep your face straight. And the worst part is he’s good at it. He’ll look at you across the room, ever so composed, and you can practically hear him saying, later, again, like it's already decided.

Ironeye is the biker everyone sees but nobody really knows. The type who pulls into a gas station late at night with his pricey helmet under his arm, dressed in black clothes, silver jewelry catching the light, and people naturally move out of his way without quite realizing why.

You meet him there by accident, way too late to be alone, and he offers you a ride home in that casually confident voice that makes it sound like no big deal. After that, he becomes the face you can somehow always pick out in a crowd of identical leather jackets and loud engines.

Girls whisper about him all the time, and they are obsessed because of those signature blue eyes and that streak of white in his hair that makes him impossible to forget.

Little do you know, he pierces himself, has tattoos on his back that disappear beneath his shirt, and at first you assume he is just another reckless biker until you learn he actually owns a tattoo and piercing shop. Turns out he is skilled, precise, and way more put-together than he looks.

And then he starts taking you out like it is the easiest thing in the world. Real dates, I mean, not just late-night rides, even if the bike is still part of it. He’ll tap his helmet against yours like a kiss, tell you to hold on, then take the long way on purpose because he likes having you tucked against his back with your arms around him, his hand covering yours on his waist at stoplights.

He brings you flowers too, which is honestly the most unfair part, because you expect him to be all edge and attitude and then he shows up with a small bouquet like it is nothing, like he didn’t just short-circuit your brain. The dates are always lowkey but intimate, diners at midnight, quiet viewpoints, a parking lot with the city lights in the distance, his jacket around your shoulders while he watches you.

Most nights end with you staying over at his place because leaving him feels impossible once you’ve been around him for a few hours. His apartment is dim and warm and smells faintly like ink and clean laundry, with his gloves tossed on the counter and tools from the shop scattered like he never fully clocks out.

He’ll offer you one of his shirts. And whenever you stay, it always ends the same way. It starts with something small, his hand on your hip when he walks past, his mouth at your neck when you’re laughing at something stupid, his voice going deeper when he asks if you’re staying the night.

Then you’re pressed closer, his attention completely on you, the teasing gone, replaced by the energy that makes it obvious he’s been thinking about you all evening. He still acts like it is nothing afterward too, like it is just what happens when you’re there, pulling you in with an arm around your waist, letting you fall asleep against him, and waking up with that lazy smirk like he already knows you’re going to do it all over again.

Executor is that mysterious guy you keep seeing at the small coffee shop where you work your part-time job, always showing up at weirdly consistent times like he’s part of the building’s routine.

He always orders the same thing in the same tone, and replies with the same calm little nod. You barely get anything out of him besides polite thank-yous and the soft clink of coins or a card tap. He sits in the same spot every time too, always at the table in the corner with his back to the wall, his notebook open, his earbuds in, and he’ll spend hours there with that deadly focus that makes the whole place feel ten times slower.

Then you start noticing the details without meaning to, the ink smudges on his fingers, the neat way he folds receipts, the way his gaze lifts for half a second whenever the door chimes. Sometimes he leaves behind a napkin with a tiny sketch on it, nothing showy, just a few lines that somehow look like art, and you pretend you don’t keep them.

It turns into this thing where you’re the only one who can get him to talk for more than ten seconds, mostly because you stop trying so hard. You toss him a casual comment while you’re wiping down the counter, and he answers with these short, clean sentences that feel rare for someone like him.

You find out in pieces that he’s a successful artist and writer, the kind of person people post about online without realizing they’ve been sitting next to him in a coffee shop for months. He never brags nor explains, but sometimes you catch a book on his table with his name on it, or a gallery flyer tucked into his notebook.

He becomes a comforting presence. He’ll start waiting for you to finish a rush before he approaches the counter. He’ll tip too much without making a big deal out of it. He’ll slide a folded slip of paper toward you once, making your co-worker giggle as they're ready to tease you after, and inside is a single line that reads like poetry and also like an invitation.

And the moment it shifts is almost stupidly small. A late shift, the shop's nearly empty, you're handing him his usual. Your fingers brushing his, and his eyes staying on you a beat longer than they ever do. He doesn’t flirt like a normal person. He just looks at you like he’s decided something. When he finally asks you out, it's inevitable, like “Come with me after you close,” and it does not feel like you can say no even if you wanted to.

His dates are sweet and simple, galleries after hours, a bookstore café, a studio, and he stays close without being showy, guiding you with a hand at your lower back, listening more than he speaks.

The lewd part is that once you’re alone, his quietness turns into something hot and heavy. He doesn’t need a lot of words to make you melt. But it starts out slow, controlled, and then it keeps happening because it always ends the same way. You go out, you end up back at his place, and somehow you’re always the one leaving with his shirt on, his ink still smudged on your skin, and the knowledge that tomorrow he’ll be back at your counter ordering the exact same drink like nothing happened, except now you both know.

[khunkhai]

[khunkhai]