Introduction

Introduction

My name is k1ng and I go by he/they pronouns. I write DSMP x Reader stories.

GENERAL INFO

I don't write nsfw so don't ask.

I don't check my notes often so if you want to talk and/or request anything DM me or put it in my inbox!

Requests Are Open.

Anons welcome.

DONT REPOST MY FICS

LINKS

LinkTree (w/ Ao3, Wattpad, Twitter, and Tumblr links)

Masterlist.

[These are all posted on my wattpad too but there is currently some Tumblr specific content (which im working on moving to wattpad too)]

Alt. Account @thek1ngtalks

Donate in Technoblade's honour: https://www.curesarcoma.org/donate/

Wing Care But Families Are Hard💛

They/Them Pronouns)

(1000+ words)

Description: You go visit home after a few weeks. Phil, your grandpa, greets you in the living room. Things don't settle well and it comes to a head while he preens your wings. (Platonic Philza x Reader)

[Read the rest under the cut]

{《☆》}

"Hey Phil," You said, pushing open the door of Techno's home. Just like you thought he'd be, Phil was reading a book as he curled up on the couch. You stretched your wings out a bit, shaking them out a bit.

"I'm still jealous you can do that," Phil complained as he stretched his arms. You laughed at him, flying in the rain was horrendous when you didn't have an oil gland. You never had to worry though. You could fly in the rain for a bit if you really wanted to.

You didn't often because having wet wings was more than mildly uncomfortable but you still could.

Phil walked over to you, settling a towel on your head. You grinned up at him, wrapping your arms around him quickly.

"Woah-!" Phil laughed. Gently, he ran a hand through your hair. You melted into the touch, relaxing until you were leaning heavily on Phil. "You're so cold, mate."

"Mhm," It's a distant answer, too busy focusing on the mini-preening to your head to answer. You click your tongue in contentment, feeling a low rumble build up in your throat. "I think your wings need to be preened, Y/N."

You groan, too relaxed to do it yourself. "Can you help?"

"Of course."

He gently pulls away, settling you down on the couch. You shuffled to curl away and spread out one of your wings. He gently ran a hand through them, looking for blood feathers.

Carefully, he made sure to avoid them when he pulled out feathers. Gently and carefully, soothing and relaxing. You crooned happily, melting back against the couch.

You closed your eyes, feeling nothing but gooey as he gently fixed up your wings. It'd been so long since your last preening, back when Tommy was still living under the basement in his makeshift home. It was cold but it was nice as Tommy preened them.

You missed him... You hadn't been allowed to see him after... everything. Your dad was too overprotective to let you see your thrice backstabbing uncle.

"You okay," Phil asked softly, carding a gentle hand through your fluffed up mahogany feathers.

Tommy was never like Phil when he preened. Tommy was quick and nimble but soft. Phil was slow and gentle and tough. Years of experience compared to Tommy's slight hesitation or fumbling. But your uncle was always hesitant recently...

You nodded weakly. "Yeah, just-... I-I miss him..."

"So do I," Phil admitted, the same rough edge from when he talked about Wilbur coming through. "But you know why you can't see him."

You bit your tongue. "Not even after his death?" You wanted to ask. Instead, you sighed.

"Because he's a liar and backstabber," You recited your father's words like they were your own. "He only ever treated Dad like a weapon."

"Family meant nothing to him," Phil stressed, plucking a father out with a sudden pinch. "We meant nothing to him."

You shook your head. They didn't know Tommy like you did, even if they thought they did. Admittedly, he hadn't told you everything, but you knew a majority of the twisted things Dream had done to your once headstrong and stubborn uncle.

And you knew exactly what family meant to him. It meant Wilbur and Techno and Phil. But it also meant Tubbo and Fundy and Niki and L'Manberg. Family was a sore subject but on the late nights where he was too broken to care about reputations, he cried to you about how much he still loved Tubbo and L'Manburg. They had hurt him, he had hurt them.

In the end, their blood-strengthened bond had been stronger than weak, years old ties.

And it did hurt.

You had thought that, maybe, he would actually become your uncle that you've been hearing stories about. The Tommy that waged wars with gods and won with only a ragtag group of kids. The Tommy who had been a conman long before he became family.

But things had changed and he had changed. In the end, you can only be glad he is still alive.

"How has Snowchester been?" Phil filled in the silence, plucking another feather. "I heard Ranboo and Tubbo adopted a kid."

"Yeah," You managed after a few seconds, thoughts and words dying on your tongue. "Micheal is a sweet kid. He's starting to talk, kinda."

Phil nods, running a hand through your feathers a final time and patting your shoulder. You leaned away, settling on the opposite side of the couch.

The rain seemed to pour harder, fighting against the windows like a beast. It didn't usually rain around your dad's house, but you supposed there's a first time for everything.

"Phil," It's hard to find the right words. It's like your mind is forgetting your entire vocabulary. A part of you is saying bail, but it's the cowardly part of you. The part that took after Phil.

"Did you ever love Tommy?"

It's an easier question than "do you love me?".

"I-," Phil tries, his brows furrowed. Their purple wings, already so pale, shift awkwardly. It's uncomfortable how long it's taking him to answer. "Of course I did-, do. Of course I do."

It's not the answer you were looking for. You craved something more honest, and something more caring. It was silly to dream when you had already known the answer.

"Yeah," You muster, staring out the window. "I should probably go soon."

"So soon-?" Phil says, a little more brokenly than earlier. "But-?"

"Tubbo'll need help with putting Micheal to bed." You offer weakly. "They're so hyper that it's a two-person job."

"I see." They sigh, giving you a tight smile nonetheless. "Visit again soon. Techno hasn't admitted it yet but he misses you. You're his kid."

"Wilbur being your kid didn't stop you from killing him."

You bite your tongue and nod. When you step out, the rain feels heavy as you fly away from your grandfather.

Tubbo wasn't expecting you back until Sunday and you didn't really have a house built anywhere else.

Tommy's hotel could use a customer, right?

{《☆》}

[lol this was written a while back but I'm finally getting around to posting it. Anyway happy pride month! I'm going to be posting double today in honour of da gay. ]

[L0v3, k1ng]

YOOOOOOOO WE JUST HIT 300 FOLLOWERS I AM SO FREAKING HAPPY BUT I AM ALSO IN AN AIRPORT ON MY WAY TO MEXICO CITY SO THE POSTS I HAD IN PREPERATION WILL HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL MY VACATION IS OVER

ANYWAY ILY ALL HAVE A GREAT DAY IM GONNA STOP BOTHERING YOU NOW

Burn 💛

(699 words :) )

(He/him pronouns)

Description: You are burning your house down. Before you do, you and your father have a chat.

[Rest of the story under the cut.]

{《☆》}

You stare at your door, running a hand down the carved spruce wood. You had spent hours carving it, carving a family of foxes into it. Three of them. One, the largest, watching down on the second and third as the poets guitar lay by its feet. The little foxes play, rough housing with one another. You close your eyes and turn away.

He's there. He watches you with a lopsided smile when you open your eyes again, lips twisted at the edges in that dissimilar way you hated and loved. He is a dillusional phantom of your father, one who watches with the same burning eyes. "Are you really going to burn it down? Your legacy gone, just like that?"

It's like the world watches with bated breath for your answer, a quiet ringing in your ears as he just stand there. You curl your fingers into fists around your flint & steel, breathing in deeply. The air feels like fire in your lungs, weighing you down. "You know better than anyone I never cared about my legacy."

He laughs, a hand on your shoulder in a phantom grip of a proud hold. "The only thing you ever cared about was him." He agreed, his hand falling back to his side. "You'll do what it takes to keep him safe."

"He told me once," You start, a quivering thing in your voice that you hate with more than yourself. Your delusion stands next to you, tilting his head and leaning back against your porch railing. "He called you an Icarus. You flew too close to the sun."

He hums thoughtfully, "I was obsessed with my legacy. I didn't care what I had to do to keep it intact." Quieter, he admits words that only your hallucination will ever admit to you. "I didn't care if I lost you to keep my legacy."

"Your sentences bordered on senseless." You say, knuckles white as you hold the flint. A part of you is ready to get it over with, to rid the world of your reaction. "You were so paranoid, every time I saw you. Driving yourself insane faster than anyone could help."

"You and him were the only thing keeping me sane for a while. After I lost you, I lost it all. And then I lost myself." He admits. If this were real, you think you'd burst into tears. But it isn't, it's what you want to hear. You think you hate it more than hearing anything else. "I was scared of how they'd perceive me."

"Now I'm burning my house down." Its the hard truth. The reality of your actions slamming into you suddenly, like they were just thought before you spoke them into existence. It's funny, in a twisted way. "Let the world wonder how Y/N reacted when you broke his heart. I deserve to keep that to myself. You– the world doesn't deserves to know... It doesn't."

"Are you trying to tell me or convince me?" He laughs, brushing past you. He rests his palm on the door, brushing a gentle thumb over the guarding fox. "Go on then. Burn it down. Burn down our memories."

"I will." You say, stepping closer. The door is locked shut, photos and letters arranged in boxes in your room never to be seen again. Burning all the letters that might've redeemed him. The photos of who he was before, a father, a brother, a poet. "I will."

"Take the final step, Y/N," Wilbur chuckles, standing right by your side as your trembling hand lingers so close to drenched wood. "Burn the world down, my little soldier."

The fire catches quickly. Right in front of your eyes the family of foxes wilts and blackened flames scar any remnants of your work. With an echoing chuckle, your father fades from view and leaves nothing but soot on your face and a fire burning in front of your eyes.

"I hope that you burn." You whispher through a choked fog. Your house burn quickly and the smoke clogs up your lungs. You laugh as snot runs down your face and tears well up in your eyes.

And you burned too.

{《☆》}

[i listened to burn from Hamilton and couldn't help myself ahsjsjk

Also I wrote this twice because the first time I wrote it in discord and then my phone died and I lost it all :(]

[I'm currently working on like 6 other wips I really shouldn't have written this adkshjk I'm now writing mostly on paper because I'm traveling rn (which sucksss)]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Obsessed ❤

Request by @/leaf_2008 on Wattpad: "Can you do another fundy x male reader but they're both obsessed with each other?"

[He/him]

[1300+ words]

Description: You and Fundy live in DryWaters. The Emerald Duo come by for a less than friendly visit.

[Read rest under the cut]

{《☆》}

"I don't want you hanging around Y/N anymore," Fundy said, dead serious as he stared down Quackity. "He's mine."

Quackity's brows furrowed, "You can't restrict who Y/N hangs out with. Kinda possessive." It was obvious Fundy didn't care, the fox simply staring at him like they could see his soul. "Whatever. You can stop me from doing shit."

Fundy let them walk away, knowing that as they hurriedly strode away, he wouldn't have to worry about Quackity trying to steal you.

'Y/N's mine,' he thought bitterly. Fundy wasn't letting anyone touch his gem like that. Quackity had gotten too comfortable with you, forgetting his own fiances when he flirted shamelessly. Fundy wasn't afraid to remind anyone who you belonged to.

Rolling his shoulders, Fundy started towards the nether portal. You were off in Dry Waters, helping with construction, so that was where Fundy had to be.

You were technically Dry Waters only citizen after Niki and Ranboo left. And despite that, you had taken it upon yourself to work hard to build up the shadow of a town. Fundy loved how determined you were to help. And the look on your face when you concentrated on construction plans for too long, then you'd look up at him when you noticed him finally with joy lighting up your eyes and Fundy would melt slightly and agree to get anything you needed without hesitation.

Call him a simp, he was gladly one for you.

He let out a relaxed sigh as he entered the temporary house you two shared. Just like he knew you would be, you sat at your desk scribbling down at a piece of paper. You twisted the pen between your fingers, distracted by ideas so heavy that you didn't notice Fundy approaching.

He carefully approached, reaching around to situate himself before he relentlessly started tickling under your ribs. You squealed in shock, rolling back and twisting away from the deadly hands.

"Stop! Pff-! No-!"

There was a panicked moment when you shoved him off of you and he went careening to the floor. But you just laughed harder as Fundy sat up slowly.

"I hate you," Fundy pouts, leaning back on his palms. His ears flick at you, you just giggle at him. "No you don't."

Fundy exaggeratedly frowned, drawing out a dramatic sigh. "You're right, I don't."

You stand up and walk over to him, snuggling up to him. He shifts slightly as you lean on him, a smitten smile on his lips. Fundy wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you even closer. "How have things been here, darling?"

"Fine," you hum noncommittedly. Closing your eyes, you settle against him. "I've missed you here. It's been forever."

Fundy chuckles fondly, a small, satisfied purr rumbling in his throat. "It's been three hours max." 

Humming, you twist to face him. "Three hours too long." 

Fundy melts under your stare, rubbing circles into your hips. Unable to stop himself, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "I missed you too," he softly admits.

"Now who's the clingy one?" You tease, voice quiet in the soft atmosphere he created.  Either way, you press your foreheads together and just breathe it in. Things have been hard lately, Dry Waters wasn't an easy project and you're a one-man team.  Breaks were a luxury you've yet to have.  At least, you never take any when Fundy isn't here.

The silence was good. It was comfortable when he was there to hold you and when Fundy's chest would rumble with barely-there purrs or when he'd pull you impossibly closer and press you into his chest and hold you like the rest of the world would decay if you weren't in his arms.

Fundy took your face in his hands, his cold fingers brushing your cheeks gently. He held you like you were his entire world. Your eyes flutter shut and you hold his hand as it caresses your face. There was something different about the world when Fundy held you like this. It softened, the colours were lighter and it seemed like everything except for Fundy just blurred and went away.

It was only him and you. Together. In each other's arms because there was no place you'd rather be.

You opened your eyes slowly as the distant noise of footsteps came closer. Fundy didn't seem to notice, fully focused on tracing invisible lines across your cheeks. "Fundy, cmon, up. Someone's here."

He blinked, frowning as you tried getting up. "Just tell them to go away." Then, he pulled you closer again. You could only barely keep yourself from falling back into another world with him.

"Fundy, I can't tell them to go unless you let me up." 

Sighing, he relaxed back and let you go. Brushing off dirt from your pants, you walk over towards the entrance. Someone had already let themselves in because the door was wide open. A bit foolish of Fundy to keep it unlocked but whatever, it was probably just Niki or Ranboo. Maybe even HBomb. They all knew they were welcomed in your home.

HBomb might even be in his cat maid outfit and you finally get to witness him torturing Fundy live. That would be the highlight of your day

"Hello? Where'd you go uh-, Niki? No, Niki would have better manners. HBomb? Yeah, that sounds- oh..."

Technoblade and Philza stood in your living room, examining the objects strewn across the room with a critical eye. They turned to you, their swords out. Now, you were definitely the most skilled in building but you've fought before and you've fought well. Turning slightly, you pull your own sword out.

"Why are you here?" You demanded.  Normally you'd have better manners. But also normally, people didn't break into your home.  You glanced back at where Fundy was waiting for you. He'd come to find you if you were any louder so, quieter, you asked again. "What do you want?"

Technoblade frowned down at you, intimidating even as he stood hunched over himself awkwardly. Philza took a step forward, his palms raised in the air as you pointed your sword at him. "We need to talk to Fundy, mate. So could you go get him?"

Technoblade scowled at you, so you glared right back. "No. What do you want with him?"

"It's none of your business." Technoblade gruffly said, his grip on his sword tight. "Go get him."

You scoff. "He's my husband. His business is my business."

Philza took a step back, obviously startled at the news. "His-? When did he get married?"

"After you pricks blew up L'Manburg. We decided to tie the knot before it got too late." You frown at him. glancing back at the hybrid who just stared judgementally. "Now, why do you want to talk to him."

"I want him to stop messing around by my house." Technoblade cut in before Philza could, his red eyes glinting dangerously. "The next time I see him, I will kill him."

"Techno," Philza warns, glancing between the two of you. He sighs, "We do want him to stop coming over. He's not exactly welcome after... well, you know."

"I'll tell him. Now go. If I see you around him I will kill you." You stiffly say, watching as Philza's wings puff up slightly. Technoblade just scoffs as he makes his way towards the door.

"Like you could kill me."

Narrowing your eyes, you tug at your memory. "Careful, Tᒷᓵ⍑リ𝙹ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷ, don't act like the voices haven't already warned you of me."

He stiffens slightly before he scoffs again. Philza pushes him forward and out the door, glancing back at you before he leaves. "Make sure to tell him."

Locking the door behind them, you turn back to the living room. Reaching the area where they stood, between the couch and the coffee table, you reached down to where they stuck the bug. Crushing the metal between your fingers, you made your way back to your office. 

Fundy was dozing off, leaning back against the floor. You sighed, letting go of the tension that had coiled in your chest and you drop down next to him. Instantly, he throws his arm over you and pulls you close.

You'd do anything to protect this. To protect him. Anything at all.

{《☆》}

[Go get food and water. Sleep if it's later than 10pm for you and you don't have any work.]

[Also I now have a side blog @thek1ngtalks where I post updates and sneak peeks! Go give me clout ily all]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Double, Double Toil And Trouble ❤

Request (kinda) by @shroombby : "HEAR ME OUT. witch!origin!reader who makes potions for wilbur to help with his weakness to the sun?"

[They/Them]

[1000+ words]

Description: You're just a witch and he's just a (phantom) boy. Can I make it any more obvious?

[Read more under the cut]

{《☆》}

You were a very powerful person. A witch origin whose veins were flooded with magic and whose hands were born calloused to brew. You were born to be trouble and that is what made you dangerous.

With just one potion of strength on you, you could massacre half of the origins in a minute. Maybe less. And with the next long period of time your skills gave you, the rest could be dead too. And that was half the fun, leaning across the thin line of life and death.

Most of the other origins didn't seem to realize what being a witch truly meant.  Physically, you were like a human. But when you brewed, the world sang. And when you laughed, the mountains shook. Effecting the world and its inhabitant is why witches existed.

Chaos was purely what you decided to take away from existing. Why live if you weren't going to have some excitement.

Although one, admittedly adorable, phantom boy was likely a dozen times more chaotic than you ever strived to be. He was unhinged, Wilbur was. A dirty crime boy and a heathen to society.

Poor Wilby though stuck indoors because of his own biology. Burned by sunlight, like a vampire.

"Please! Y/N, I just want to go out in the sun like a regular person." Wilbur grovelled at your feet, an adorable pout on his face as he begged.  It was slightly enjoyable watching him hug your leg like a toddler. "Please make me a potion!"

"There hasn't even been a potion made for this type of thing, let alone altering a potion for phantom hybrid consumption. That stuff is dangerous since you're like half air." You pointed out, patting him on the head as you slowly trudged across the Pub(e). "I love ya, Wil, but you can deal with this on your own. Don't die though."

Wilbur sniffed dramatically, still holding your leg hostage. "I will die out of spite now." Then he gave a pitiful whine, "Please, darling!"

"Let go of me." You tried to get away, but sadly your sugar was clinging like a leech. "I'm not doing it so-! EW LET GO! WIL, STOP-!"

You spent the better half of three hours being pestered by your boyfriend before you gave in.

{《☆》}

Creating potions from scratch took hours. Long and boring hours of watching water boil and turning blaze rods into a thin powder in your mortar and pestle. Getting Redstone in your hair and losing yourself to the process. It was addicting when you got into it. The constant movement and the power that hummed under the dirt when you brewed. Like the world was waiting for a rampage or a disaster.

It was a paranoid process to many witches, as many told you when you still lived in a coven. Knowing that the earth was watching like it knew something they didn't. But you had never felt it the same way. Because the earth moulded under your fingertips willingly so why fear it.

And when someone interrupted your process, it was much more than mildly irritating.

"What?" You grumbled, wiping Redstone dust off. "I was busy."

"That's the problem," Wilbur whined, looking like a kicked puppy as he stood on your doorstep. "I haven't seen you in days! I miss you."

"You asked me to make this potion, Wil." You pointed out, still softening at his words. "I'll still need another day or two before I have it perfect though. We can hang out after."

Wilbur pouted, sulking in his phantom form as the sun started setting. When you did finish the potion, he wouldn't need to be see-through. You were doing this for him. "Take a break! Hang out with me. Please?"

Grimacing, you realized that he knew exactly what he was doing. Wilbur's eyes shone with a plead, wide and begging. Damn him for knowing your weakness to his puppy eyes. "Fine. But it has to be under an hour or else I'll have to reset the entire potion."

Wilbur grinned, nodding rapidly. Stepping in, you took off your apron. Setting it down next to the cauldron, you met a solid Wilbur on the steps. He took your hand in his, racing off in an untouched direction and pulling you along with him.

Laying under the stars, bodies pressed close as a chill wind blew past, you wondered what your coven would've thought about Wilbur.

{《☆》}

With multiple bottles of your new phantom-proof potions,  you handed one off to Wilbur nervously. Stepping back, you held a water bucket tightly. This could go horribly wrong and kill Wilbur or you could have successfully made a new brand of potion. Only one way to find out.

"This will really suck if I die." Wilbur joked before he took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut before he took a large swig and opened them hesitantly. He wasn't blue or some other abhorrent, unnatural shade. No polka dots or stripes, he looked perfectly normal. Or, mostly.

His eyes glowed with a shimmering golden rim, like a fire in his eyes or like sun glinting down on them. You grinned widely,  this was good so far.

"Alright, now go. Step out." You encouraged, still holding one hand around the bucket's handle. "I'm right here for you, sugar."

Wilbur nodded, a weight unfurling in his chest. A single foot forward, and the sun bounced off of Wilbur's face, lighting it up and showing off the unnatural paleness that usually came with phantom's and their allergies to the sun. But now he could feel its warmth settling against his skin and it didn't burn.

"You're amazing," he breathed out, turning towards you. A joy that you've never seen before, childish and adoring and absolutely in love. Wilbur stepped forward, taking your hands in his and kissing the knuckles. "So amazing, darling."

You giggled, turning your head as he started pressing kisses to your entire face. Tilting his head slightly, Wilbur smiled fondly. "I love you."

"I love you too," you said, standing there with Wilbur.  Simply basking in the sun. Like you could do now.

{《☆》}

[F r o g]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist