#yancyxreader

[dark-martian]

Can we the people of the Yancy states of markipliar and the Illinois states get a request to draw one of the thanksgiving scene head canons u made? 🥺

this is like long over due I’m sry also have some cute Illinois and Yancy!!

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Don’t Call Yancy “Baby”

When Visitation comes along Keep these words in mind. I know your heart has a loving song but remember to be kind! Our favourite jailbird's in love with you And it's clear for all to see! But know no matter what you do DO NOT CALL HIM BABY!

Calling him "honey" might be keen, Or he's your "sugar" every hour. But "baby"? Oh no, that'll mean His face will turn quite dour. He hates that word, it makes him frown, It'll turn the romance sour It's not worth letting things drop down... Who knew one word had power?

Take the time to pick and choose The names that shows your love, With ones like "sweetie" , you can’t lose Or even "my precious dove". (Remember, Yancy’s a tough guy. Don't pick names too soft. You don't want that magic to run dry, So don't use them too oft!) You don't need to be so fancy Like "Amore Mio" or "beloved", Simple things are loved by Yancy. I'm sure it's something he'll covet.

Use "teddy" or "dreamboat" or "rosewood", "Pumpkin" or "gumdrop" maybe But for the love of all that's good, PLEASE don't call him "baby"!

[darkstache-iplier]

Third Sunday

Fanfic Yancy/Reader (gender neutral reader) - second person POV

-----------------------------

You go, every third Sunday, like he said so.

In the first one, he comes out to the meeting room confused. He hasn't been expecting anyone, you know that by now, but you at least expected him to wait for you. You don’t think that he actually believed you would come, but when he sees you, sitting down waiting for him, you can see his eyes shimmering with tears that he quickly wipes off and dismisses with a chuckle.

"Youse came..." are the words that come out of his mouth, and you smile at him, because yes, of course you came. Why wouldn't you come? Mark was dead and well, you didn't have anyone else but this charming, cute man you met in prison, that pretends he's tough and hardcore but in reality is just some soft room temperature butter. You love him for it. "I can'ts believe... why?"

You tell him why. Because you missed him. A lot. He sits in front of you and you reach out to touch him, to hold his hands, and you see the faint blush coming over his cheeks. He is adorable, you decide, and tell him that you will be coming every third Sunday, no exceptions. He looks at you, surprised, because he wasn't expecting it at all, and he tells you this with a quiet laugh, looking down at the table because he can't quite meet your eyes. He's too shy for that.

"I never even thoughts I could... have someones care about me..." he whispers, and you hold his hand tighter because of course you care. Those few hours you two spent together back two weeks ago were the best few hours of your life. You can't just erase that from your head. So you tell him you will be coming back to visit. You tell him that you will be waiting outside for whenever he feels like he can come out, you tell them that whenever parole comes and he senses its time, that you will be there to pick him up.

And Yancy gives you a smile and teary eyes that stay with you for the rest of the month, while you wait for your second visit.

 In the second time, you bring him a gift. Because of course you do, you know him, he deserves it. It's nothing he can use to break out of prison because you know he will think you're pushing him to get out, and you don't want this carefully crafted friendship to be thrown out of the window because of a simple, stupid mistake. So you bring him a comfy blanket, a few snacks that he can share with his friends and a teddy bear that smells like you.

"For me?" he asks quietly, and holds the items like a child holding their first stuffed animal. His eyes are teary again and you wipe them with your hand, because you care about him too much to see him cry. "Whise?"

You tell him it's because you care about him. A lot. Because you see him as your best friend (because you're afraid of saying he means more) and you want him to be comfy and remember you in prison. You don't talk about parole, you don't talk about your life outside the prison, because you want him to realize by himself that you can give him everything he needs.

He cries a little, he tells you he misses you, and you two share a hug that maybe lasted a little too long, but it was worth it. So worth it. Because when he holds you that familiar smell of cheap soap and whatever he uses as cologne comes through your nose and you feel at home. His arms are always warm around you and yours seem to ground him to reality.

"Thank youse..." he whispers against your ear and a shiver goes down your spine. He squeezes you tight before he moves away, and time is up, but you watch Yancy move back into the prison with his new gifts tight against his body.

You hope he will make the choice of leaving soon.

 On the fifth time you visit, you go to the warren's office to ask him some questions. He stares at you for too long and you remember you escaped his prison like six months ago, but as a miracle he seems not to remember you all that well. So he lets you inside and answers most of the questions you have.

"He can leave whenever he wants to, but he makes sure to always get in trouble when parole is coming" he tells you, shaking his head in disappointment as he sips on his coffee. "Yancy... he's like a son to me. He was able to bring all prisoners together and make sure they all behave, that they are all friends, but he doesn't want to get out of prison. That boy... he is a lost cause."

He sure looks like one, but you're sure you can convince him to leave and come have a normal life with you. Or as normal as one can considering you seem to attract the weirdest individuals around you. But that doesn't matter.

"He did kill his parents so I don't know if it wouldn't be best if he just... stayed in here" the warren concludes, and if he wasn't so intimidating you would laugh. You know people that killed way more. That killed people more important to them that their parents. Yancy's crimes are child play for you. But you can't tell that to the prison warren. So you just nod and make your way towards the waiting room to see Yancy again.

And when he comes, he is all smiles and hugs towards you and you feel complete once more.

 It takes another two years of constant visits, gifts, hugs and conversations for the moment to come. But it arrives.

You had already lost your hope when he comes to you, looking at the table shyly as he sits down, playing with his hands nervously. He is wearing the bandana you gave him around his neck, and the bracelet you made a few visits back. He likes your stuff, but something is weird about him this day.

"I'ves made my mind" he says, quietly, and his eyes shift up to meet yours in a shy glance. "I dids nothing wrong this lasts months... parole comes next weeks... I'm... coming out."

You hold back your excitement because you can see how scared and insecure he is, and you take his hand, tangling your fingers with his because you want to send him all the courage you have to him in this moment of need. And he seems to calm down a little bit at least.

You tell him you will be there for the court, you will be there to pick him up, and that he has a nice bed waiting for him at your house.

And he gives you that smile you can't take out of your head.

 He gets out in the next parole.

His jail friends are crying and you know why. You would be too. But they never tell him to stay.

You wait for him outside by your car, and give him a smile as he comes closer with his bags in hand.

"So... we..." he tries, but you give him no chance. You move close and hold his face, giving him a kiss that makes your world turn and spin, your stomach burn and twist, you feel tingles down your legs. And if for a moment you freak out because you think he will pull back, it all fades away when his bags go to the ground and his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, holding you tight.

It does feel like heaven, kissing him for the first time, smelling the cologne and the cheap soap, sliding your fingers through his gelled back hair. You love him, and by the way he is kissing you, he loves you too.

Now, it's just your life ahead that stops you from being the happiest person alive.

[dark-martian]

Alright soes we gotta play it that way, ey? Fine. Let’s dance, pretty boy.

Mark says Yancy doesn’t want to leave.

I’ll play by your rules, old man. Have a Yancy ficlet.

(GIF from @markired)

Even if you went back to get Yancy, he wouldn’t leave.

You showed up at his cell rounding midnight, key in hand and arms wide open. He doesnt move from his bed, but rather just stares at you.

You mention your head to the cell door, which is completely open.

Without saying anything, Yancy jumps off his bunk and moves in front of you.

You think he’s going to give you a hug, but when his big hands turn you around and push you out the cell, you’re more than plenty surprised. When Yancy’s done, the cell closed with a click.

“Yous ain’t suppose to be back here. Yous know this.” His voice is light as he grips the bars. Your heart breaks.

So, you use your skeleton key again and open the cell. Yancy pushes the door against you, closing it.

Frustrated, you open the cell again and again. Once more for good measure, yet each time, Yancy closed it shut.

“Stop, stop it!” Your hand is caught by Yancy’s, “I. Ain’t. Leavin’. At least, not now—not like this.”

A thumb runs over your hand, the one holding the skeleton key. Yancy sighs. His voice is brought down to a soft whisper.

“Look, I ‘preciate the help, but I gotta dos this own my own. This is my responsibility, yous know? The blood was on my hands—not youes.”

“I’ll get out my own way; when I say I’m ready. Capiche? Promise me this. Nod if yous understand.”

You nod.

“Good, good. Now go on,” he shoos you away, “get outta ‘ere before the warden catches yous. We can’t have both of us stuck in here, ey, now can we?”

Following his warning, you leave, but not before stealing once last glance at Yancy. He smiles at you then look away as the shadows claim you.

[dark-martian]

Y’all can I get some heckin uhh,,,, protective!yancy x reader headcanons??

Did you send me two asks??? If so, then here it is! Protective! Yancy. If not, then, well, two birds with one stone 😉

Would move mountains for you, love. Seriously.

Yancy never has to worry about losing you to another inmate. They’re all family, and you’re his sweetheart. Besides, everyone knows Yancy’s Dark tatted knuckles hit the hardest.

He does however have to let the new prisoners you’re his and “if yous even look at my little sweet potatoe the wrong way, yous done for. Kapesh?”

Does he get jealous? Yes. Does he let it effect his mood and make him territorial? Yes.

Okay, he does get jealous, but he isn’t the boisterous type. He’s more like the sling his around your shoulder and intense smiling at the adversary until they leave kinda guy.

When the guards are little rougher than usual, you bet your bottoms dollar Yancy’s coming around with a med kit.

OH BOY, listen if the warden pulls anything on you (I’m talking like putting you in solitary confinement or parole), you know Yancy will go ham on him.

[dark-martian]

Yancy x reader with social anxiety and/or trust issues?

Gotchu’ covered 💕

Always makes sure you’re comfortable with an area. Whether it’s crowded or completely empty, he asks if you’re okay.

If you don’t want to initiate a conversation with anyone, this baby makes sure to include you in other ways. He’ll show you things, ask only you for advice, and just include you in the tiny things.

Always touches you to remind you, you are present and he enjoys your presence. Could be a tap on your shoulders or hand holding.

If you’re slow to trust, he’ll take his time to earn it. I mean he practically says “ain’t nobody got nowhere with nothin’.”

Yancy doesn’t force you to sing or dance in their rehearsals. He does though, wink at you while dancing.

You have therapy with the prison counselor on tuesdays, Yancy waits outside the office for you every appointment. His smile afterwards brightens your day and warms your heart.

[dark-martian]

Yo!!!! Self conscious Trans reader X Yancy!!!!!!!! Head cannons!!!

I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED.

I am not trans, so please bare with me. I read some personal stories about dysphoria and If I get anything wrong, please correct me. I also didn’t know if you want reader to be living in prison or free, so I just choose prison. This also ended up being like short story but anyways...

When you decided to stay with Yancy and his family, you didn’t realize the consequences of not bringing along your medicine. It’s been a nearly a week and you feel horrible.

You’re hating your body; how it looks, how it feels. You’re worried about how others think about you. It’s not like you’ll change back to how you once were, but the medicine helped to ease your mind and make the changes progressive. It made you feel more like yourself. Now it’s gone.

The anxiety is eating you alive and Yancy can tell how you’ve isolated yourself. He corners you in the yard, patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey, yous been actin’ pretty distant. Sometin’ on your mind? Sparkles McGee worries yous know?”

You contemplate on telling him your doubts. But he’s Yancy; he’s family. You don’t want to loose him. By opening your mouth, you risk it all and vent 100%, no stops.

Yancy takes in your troubles like a smoke, then exhales with a “what.”

He has no idea what being trans means. You explain it to him. He slowly understands and in the end is extremely supportive.

“Oh, Okay! I got it now! Soes you nevah feel as if yous in yours own body?”

“Exactly!”

“Is there anything I can do to help yous?”

You then tell him about surgery and he shakes his head.

“We ain’t got those kinda doctors ‘round here. I don’t want yous to feel self conscious about yous own body. Not like how my own Dad did me and my accent. I wants yous feel like you.”

You tell him there are other ways to feel like yourself.

If you need testosterone/estrogen pills, he’s GOT YOU COVERED BABY. Boy can sweet talk a guard into bringing you some.

If you need a binder (or a new one later on), boy will sneak one in somehow.

“Do yous want someone to talk to? Someone more professional than me? I could uh have a noice “chat” wit the warden into gettin’ a prison counselor.”

He bumps your shoulders playfully, which earns a smile from you.

“Yeah, that’d be helpful.”

For now, until you decide to tell the rest of the inmates, the whole ordeal is kept on the DL.

When you do decide to come out, when you’re feeling better about your body, the inmates welcome you with open arms. And though you felt they were family before, now they truly are.

You feel whole with them, you feel loved by them—you are you and that’s all that matters.

[dark-martian]

Can we get chubby reader x Yancy :)

You got it bby 😊

Yancy loves every inch of you, and I mean ALL of you! The more there is to love, to squeeze, to hug.

If you ever feel down about your weight, he’ll kiss every roll you have until you’re left only in a fit of giggles.

And if anyone even breaths so much a word about your weight, you bet the boy with throw the first punch. No questions asked, no words said, just fist to face.

Yancy loves being the big spoon so he can hold you close.

Will worship the ground you walk on.

Even if all you wear is prison uniforms, Yancy likes to imagine you in different outfits. How loose drapes look with your shoulders, how tight clothes could accentuate your delicate curves. He never tells you, but the boy sure loves imagining you wearing clothes for him.