𝔾𝔸𝕄𝔼 𝕆𝕍𝔼ℝ - - MCYT x Reader Mini-fics!

𝕎𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

summary: you are a hermit who comes across tommy and wilbur after they are banished from manburg

total word count: 963

being a loner, you weren't used to interaction. you were well aware of the existence of the factions that edged the forests you thrived in, but you had never actually seen someone from them, at least, not up close.

but now you were awoken by a pair of voices— two boys, one clearly older than the other, arguing as they trekked close to your campsite. you squeak, alarmed at the sudden intrusion on your privacy. nearly no one knew you were out here, how would these people react to a lone person out in the woods? fearing the worst, you grab your axe and rise to your full height.

just as you'd predicted, a young man and a boy, about your age, appear from the undergrowth, and immediately spot you. the older, a tall, brown-haired man, pushes the younger, a slightly shorter blonde boy, behind him protectively.

"who are you? what is your business?" you question.

the brown-haired man speaks first. "i could ask the same. who are you?"

you wrinkle your nose. "i'm not the one in the other's camp, you don't exactly have the privilege to be asking questions here." you snap back at the man, who frowns but complies.

"i'm wilbur, this is my brother, tommy. we were banished from our home, and we're just trying to find some shelter for the night." he explains, gesturing to tommy, who was shivering, and watching you with wide, nervous eyes.

"on what crime were you banished for?"

"none. we were exiled because schlatt's an arsehole." tommy mutters.

you furrow your brow. "and schlatt is...?"

"it's allot to explain." wilbur says after cuffing the side of tommy's head for his bluntness. "mind if we sit?"

you hesitate. they could be lying. these two men could be murders, martyrs, or worse. they could do their worst if you make the wrong decision.

but it's awfully cold, and you've just lit your campfire. the younger boy, tommy, shivers again.

"sure," you answer finally.

wilbur and tommy practically collapse into their knees, crouching before sitting with their legs crossed over each other. they lean into the warm light of the fire, visibly relieved by the gentle heat radiating from the embers and coal.

"what's your name?" tommy asks suddenly.

"oh, i'm [y/n]." you answer.

"[y/n]..." tommy echoes under his breath like it's a second language.

you nod. "what's your crime for banishment?" you ask again.

tommy looks to wilbur, who looks to the sky. "there was an election, and we ran. we lost, and the new leader banished us." he explains in a hoarse voice, as if sick to his stomach at the memory.

you frown. "that's... cruel. i can't believe someone like that could win an election, he must be a sweet-talking charmer." you ramble.

tommy chuckles quietly. "he is. schlatt charmed the pants right off of quackity, and that conceived his win." he explains.

all these names, you think, a tad overwhelmed. you clear your throat. "i have wool, and sheepskin. i can craft you two some makeshift beds, if you'd like, and you can stay at my camp for the night." you offer, standing up.

wilbur nods. "that's be nice, yes. thank you, [y/n]."

you smile, and head to your pack to unfurl your spools of white and grey wool, then set to work on sewing up a blanket for the two boys to share.

it's been a few minutes, and tommy wanders over to you. "mind if i watch?" he asks in a quiet, unsure voice.

"sure." you say between focused stitches.

tommy sits beside you, a bit close for comfort, but you're too focused on the task at hand to tell him off.

"how old are you?"

"i'm sixteen."

"oh! same!" tommy chirps, a bit more lively now that he's easing out of his shell.

you smile, continuing to cross-stitch the flat, dried sheepskin onto the swatches of wool that you at patched together to form the shell of a blanket.

"thank you." tommy says suddenly.

you flinch at the noise after the few minutes of comfortable silence you'd shared, and accidentally nick your fingerpad on your needle. you hiss, dropping your tools and bring your finger up to your lips to suck the blood dripping off your finger.

tommy squeaks, surprised as well, and immediately begins a hasty apology. "i-i'm sorry! i didn't mean—"

"it's alright, tommy, it's alright." you reassure him once your finger has left your mouth. you wipe your now spit-covered appendage against your cloak, and turn to look at him. "happens all the time,"

"tommy?" wilbur's voice crackles from behind you two. "what did you do?" he's referring to his apology.

"nothing!" tommy shouts back defensively.

you giggle. these two probably quipped back at each other constantly. a part of you jolts with a dull amount of envy. you wish you had a constant companion to banter with like these two. maybe not in a brotherly sort of way, but boy can a person dream.

"is this camp permanent?" tommy asks you once he and wilbur are done piping their lungs off at each other.

you shake your head. "the closet thing i have to permanent is a nether portal i built in a ravine a few kilometers from here." you admit.

tommy frowns, his whole face dropping as he thinks, before perking up again. "why don't we set up a camp on there? in the ravine, i mean?"

"we?"

"yeah! i'm a great builder! wilbur is too! we can totally clear a space out for you to keep a home!" he explains, threading his hands into the grass and yanking at the tiny green blades with enthusiasm.

you smile. maybe you'd get that companion after all.