#yancy the jailbird

[wispy-fox]

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[markiplitessepticeyes]

EDITOBER: GRUNGY

Day 16: Our favorite jailbird Yancy, its the third Sunday of the month this week go say hello!

[the-host-sees-all]

The host greatly appreciates Bim doing that for him. And it feels very good. 

There’s also a siren ego out in cities lake. Plus Yancy our jailbird ego is finally getting out on parole.

(after markiplier TV I like to think that these two interact a bit often -shadow)

*The host had just finished doing his latest radio show and was just minding his business walking down the halls of the studio*

@the-host-sees-all

((Oh definitely agreeded.)

The cannibal game host sitting inside of the studio as he was waiting for his new contestants for hire my ass, fixing up his suit. "They better not be late! We're filming in two hours, I have to have this episode go on air its the last of this season!"

The meet grinder was ready and everything just incase it's decided after the loser after they have been killed off

[orange-waterfalls]

Dimension Hopping

Yancy x gn!reader

Ask: YANCY FIC PLEAEEEEEEE

A/N: As you can see, I had a lot of free reign with this so i got creative <333 it’s just fluff with the slightest microscopic hint of angst because I am in LOVE with he and also Wilford is a supportive dad and ALSO crying but it’s happy crying I swear!! enjoy!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

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You stared at the prisoner for a lot longer than explicitly necessary. In your defense, it had been a while. A long, long while. Didn’t seem to last as long for him, though. He hadn’t aged a day. Well, that wasn’t true. He had a few new tattoos. You supposed that made sense. But still, you had to stare. He was here. He was really here. Yeah, you’d seen Illy earlier, but he fucking left you, so he doesn’t count. Also Wilford, who kicked you out almost immediately and almost made you cry for it. But Yancy was here and talking and having a conversation and asking how you’ve been and oh boy, those are more tears. You hoped Yancy wouldn’t notice.

He noticed.

“H-Hey, pal, hey, what’s the matter?” He chuckled, a worried look on his face. You shook your head. “Well, obviously there’s somethin’, otherwise you wouldn’t be cryin’.” You shook your head harder. 

It’s stupid, you thought. 

“Hey, if it made you cry, it ain’t stupid.” He asserted. He then paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, actually… You’re allowed to cry. Even if the reason’s stupid. Either way, it’s fine, so you can calm down because I think I might have ta break the glass to comfort cha.” You sniffed aggressively, trying to force your body to fuck off and calm down because it’s not that deep, ok? Besides, Yancy is progressively getting more anxious about it. 

“Would me cryin’ in solidarity make you feel better? I can do that. I could stab myself in the thigh or somethin’ to make me cry. I can do that. You want me to do that?” You shook your head so hard it hurt, smiling nonetheless. “Ok! Ok, I won’t.” And so he just sat there and waited for you to calm down.

You did not, in fact, calm down. You did manage to suppress your sobbing enough that Yancy believed you’d stopped crying. You gave him a shaky thumbs up. He smiled brightly and gave you a confident one back.

“Alright, good! Cause you gotta pay attention. Oh, we wrote a new song!” He said excitedly. He put the phone down, the sound immediately getting muffled and you pointed back, but Yancy was already on the chair and barely paying attention to you. You weren’t gonna interrupt him. It looked like a fun song. You liked seeing him have fun.

You did not like the glow you saw out of the corner of your peripheral. You slowly brought your hand up and looked at it.

No. you thought desperately. No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO—

You slapped at the crystal and you knocked on the glass. You tried so hard to get Yancy’s attention. He was too into his musical number. He couldn’t hear you over the music and he could barely see you over the lights.

You felt a few more tears slip as you let your hands slide off the glass and collapsed back into the chair. You buried your head in your hands and stared at the crystal as it prepared to take you away again.

Better luck next time, Some mocking voice said in your head. You growled a little. You knew better than to mess with the space-time continuum.

You knew who didn’t, though…

–

Wilford screamed when you kicked his door down. Like legitimately, actually screamed. Like this was a slasher movie and he was about to be murdered by the angry 5’4” space captain who was stalking towards him. 

You didn’t have the crystal anymore. That was important.

“Wha-Yo-HOW did you get here?” He sputtered out with a laugh. You shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. You made your way to the chair across from him and sat down. He looked at you. And you looked at him.

I need your help, you thought.

“My help, you need? Well, I’m always willing to help a friend! Or a universe-destroying mutual acquaintance.” He explained giddily. “I can help with anything! Need to get back with an ex-lover? Fly to Burma? Kill a congressman? Whatever you need!”

I want to get back to Yancy.

“Except that, I can’t help you with that.” He waved off your request, standing to walk elsewhere in the room. You brought your hands out, a question as to why. He simply shook his head and started to pour whiskey that you are 90% sure was not there before. You twisted around in your chair so you were on your knees facing him, gripping the back of the chair.

Wilford! Come on. Please?

“No, now you know there are rules! The first rule is that there are no rules. Second rule is no dimension hopping!” He stated. He set aside the first glass of whiskey. He poured another glass of whiskey. He seemed to think for a moment before pulling another glass from nowhere and instead pouring apple juice in the third one. You weren’t sure if the juice was for you or for him.

You just said there were no rules!

“And the second rule is no dimension-hopping! Come on, try to listen!” He scolded. You sighed, exasperated.

Come on, Wil, I just wanna see someone… your thoughts were a mumble. Wilford stopped in his tracks. You froze as well, thinking something was wrong. He slowly turned to you with a wide smile on his face. Well… it was more like a shit-eating grin. The kind your friends got when you told them who your crush was.

Uh-oh.

Wilford ran back over and crashed into his seat, making you jump and cover your mouth. His chair tipped back a moment before setting itself upright again. Wil slammed one of the glasses in front of you (you still weren’t sure which it was), pulled out his notepad and pen, crossed his legs daintily and looked at you expectedly. You stared at him. He stared at you with a smile.

What.

“Go ahead. Make your case.” He instructed. Your eyebrows furrowed.

What?

“You want me to take you to see a special someone,” He teased and you crossed your arms, sinking in your chair, “I want you to make your case as to why I should take you. Why they’re special.” He flipped a page of the notebook, dabbing the tip of the pen on his tongue and shifting to get comfortable. He smiled at you. You squinted at him.

I don’t gossip. You crossed your arms.

“Everyone gossips.” He argued.

Then I don’t kiss and tell. You turned your head away from him.

“You’ve kissed them?” He gasped, excited. You whipped your head back to look at him.

No! Your thoughts shouted.

“Ah, a budding relationship.” He nodded, jotting something down.

We’re just friends.

“Ohhhh, friends to lovers!” He scribbled a little more. It didn’t seem like he was actually writing anything down.

It’s not like that, he… he doesn’t like me like that.

“Pining, too?!”

Stop! I met him two years ago at–

“SLOWBURN? Ohhhh, this is a good one. How many words? 10k?”

Fuck off!

“20k?! Ohhhh, I ship it already.”

Don’t say ship, Wilford.

“Ok. Pining, friends to lovers, pre-relationship, 20k, slowburn. Anything else?” He leaned forward, absolutely elated. You stared at this strange, strange man for a moment before you sighed. Whatever was happening seemed to be working so far.

… he’s in jail.

“I’M A SUCKER FOR PRISON LOVE. You’ve convinced me, I’ll send you back.”

Yes!

“If you agree to introduce me as your father eventually.”

NO!

“Come on, please? I’ve always wanted to be in the ‘bad boy boyfriend meets the parents’ storyline!”

No.

“Can I be the mom then? Abe can be the dad! I can work a pair of heels, I promise you.” He begged. You heard a noncommittal noise behind you and looked to see Abe grabbing the other glass, not sparing you a second glance as he walked back though the door. Was he greyscale? How did that work? Come to think of it, he could’ve just taken the apple juice just now.

… I kinda want to see that. You admitted, deciding to stop thinking about the goddamn apple juice.

“Alrighty then! Have fun, sweetie!”

Don’t.

“Have fun, kiddo!”

Better.

–

“Hey! Hey, what happened? We was doin’ the song and then ya just up and vanished! And now you’re back! … in my cell. What’re ya doin’ in here? How’d you get in here? What the hell is happening?” Yancy rapid-fired questions at you even as you were inspecting your surroundings and recovering from an interdimensional jump, it would seem. It felt kinda like dizziness mixed with whiplash mixed with jet lag and you might be dying, honestly. 

You had to take a few seconds to recover enough to see clearly in front of you, and you saw him. Yancy. In all his glory. The man himself. The meow meow of all time. Your scrimblo. What the FUCK were you thinking right now. Everything hurt. Oh God.

You didn’t answer Yancy’s question, mostly because you didn’t know yourself. All you knew was that Yancy was there and you were here and you walked over him and interrupted his questioning with a big hug. He froze for a second before jerkily wrapping his arms around you and sniffing hard.

“H-Hey now… that ain’t necessary…” He croaked out. You rubbed his back and petted the little hairs at the nape of his neck and he kept breathing deeply. He was trying not to cry, you knew. You weren’t helping, you knew. You didn’t really care. Crying was healthy, yeah? Yeah. You two could cry. That was fine.

I missed you… You sniffled and let a few tears drop yourself. Yancy hiccuped and held on even tighter. Considering he was a strong man as it was, you had just a little trouble breathing and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could pass out. You could die here without a care in the world. You heard and felt him mumble something into your neck, but you couldn’t make it out. You hummed inquisitively. He pulled away a little. You panicked and grabbed onto him to keep him close. He abided, staying right in front of your face as he looked at you with wet eyes and a tear-streaked face.

“I missed you… I didn’t… I didn’t know if… I figured you would but… you know.” He chuckled dryly. You frowned and imagined a sad Yancy, sitting behind the glass on visitation day, waiting for someone that wasn’t going to show up until the lights went out. Like Paddington in Paddington 2. That poor little bear. Yancy, your poor little bear. Well, he’s more like a hunk, isn’t he? In those terms.

Wow, that jump really fucked you up.

Never. You pulled him in for another hugged and squeezed tightly. He wheezed and giggled.

“Wow, did yous get stronger? Start workin’ out? You got a solid bear hug there.” He complimented. You basked in the compliment. You nuzzled your face into his neck. His breath hitched and you wondered if you’d crossed a line.

“Hey, I uh–” His voice cracked. Your eyebrows knitted together. You tried to pull back to look at him, but he pushed your face back into his shoulder. “No, no, let me, uh… I gotta… get ready to say something…” He cleared his throat loudly. You winced and so did he.

Ow.

“Sorry,” he apologized, petting your head. You let your eyes close and sighed. He took a breath. You waited and listened. “So… buddy…”

You hummed your acknowledgement. He sucked in a breath.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, I gots a crush. On. Someone I know. And let’s say that crush has… festered a little bit over the past few weeks. And let’s say that I applied for parole because of that person. And that I gots repeated imaginations of us living in a house together and doing stupid domestics like cleaning and cooking and kissing and cuddling and–” He cut himself off. You giggled into his shoulder. He chuckled a little as well. “Well, uh… let’s say I wanna do all that with ‘em. But I… don’t know if they wanna do those things. Some o’ the guys told me about a… ‘talkin’ stage and a… flirtin’ stage and… Iunno. I wanna tell ‘em but I… dunno how. Do I just… outright say it? Rip the bandaid off? Tear the stitches out and hope I don’t lose too much blood?” You were just a tad worried about that analogy, but you nodded slowly nonetheless. 

“Right. Yeah. That makes… yeah,” He sighed. You pulled away and looked at him. He looked very, very nervous. He was even sweating a little. You grinned a little and started wiping his forehead with your sleeve. He laughed. “Thanks. Thank yous.” You stepped back a little and waited. He wanted to say something to you. It really looked like he did. You hoped Wilford was right. About the friends to lovers. Not the 20k or slowburn. You’re done pining.

Yancy cleared his throat and you snapped out of your thoughts to look at him. He was sweating again. You stepped forward to wipe off his forehead again, but he pushed your arm away, grabbing your hand as he went. You raised your eyebrows. He looked at you, seeming to be searching in your eyes for something.

“Pal,” He started. You nodded. You weren’t actually sure if he knew your name. That might be a problem later. Not now, though. “I have… a question… to ask you…”

Yes. You nodded. He rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He looked at you, determined.

“Do yous… want… to be… my…” He paused and pursed his lips. You tilted your head, waiting patiently. He opened and closed his mouth uselessly. You reached out to his face and took it in your hands, making him look at you. His face went a little pink as he swallowed harshly. And you waited.

“... romantic partner?” He finished with a squeak. You smiled widely and released his face. You nodded enthusiastically. He sighed. Then he giggled. Then he started laughing, punching triumphantly at the air. You watched him, endlessly entertained. Then he high-fived you.

He high-fived you.

He is your new “romantic partner” and, to celebrate, Yancy gave you a fucking high-five. 

He seemed to also realize that this may not have been the appropriate reaction because he looked at your hand and then at his own and then at your face.

“Uh…” He snickered. “Well, I, uh… that didn’t really–” You grabbed his face and kissed him. It wasn’t that dramatic of a kiss like it always was in movies, just a little kiss. Basic. Chaste and normal and nothing to get heated over.

But Yancy did get heated. Yancy stood frozen for a solid 30 seconds before his face went bright red and he sunk to the floor. You watched him cover his face with his hands and fall onto his side. You wondered if you broke him. Then, he kicked his feet and screamed into his hands. You covered your own mouth and suppressed a laugh. You waited until he calmed down a few seconds later. He slowly dropped his hands from his face and gave you an intimidating look.

“Tell no one.” He warned. You nodded. He smiled and jumped up, giving you another hug. His smile quickly fell, however. “Hang on, how yous gonna get… out?” You raised your eyebrows, not really knowing how yourself. 

Right on time, a pink wormhole appeared next to you. You and Yancy both stared at it, confused and frightened.

“Well, what are you waiting for?! Come on! I need to hear everything!” Wilford’s voice echoed through the portal. Yancy gave you a look.

“You know this guy?” He asked, seemingly of the portal itself. You shrugged and made your way to it in any case. You stopped, looking back at Yancy. He looked a little worried. Nervous. 

You brought your hands up, making a little heart directed at him. He smiled, blushing, mimicking the action. You stepped back into the portal, not taking your eyes off of your love as you went through.

[meloncalic]

“Yeah, and one more thing.

I, uh... I applied for parole.”

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Patches

Surprise bitches! Thought I wasn’t gonna write while I was at my grandparents’? WRONG! Here’s some Yancy. Apologies for formatting, I’m literally posting this on mobile in the car.

Yancy x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 481

For five years you kept to your promise. Every third Sunday. Eighty-six third Sundays. You’d visit for fifteen minutes at first, then it grew to longer. After the fourth one you became pen pals on top of it. You’d write to him a lot more than you could visit, work wouldn’t let you take off more than what you already agreed. But you stuck to those Sundays, wishing that they lasted longer. You didn’t know it at the time, but it’s what kept him going in prison, what made him want to apply for parole. You made him want to apply for parole. Because he realized you were worth it.

He was coming out today. You offered your place to crash until he got his own place, even though you hoped that he never did. Sure it was selfish, but you don’t want to have to go back to every third Sunday when seeing him everyday was a possibility. You pull up on his motorcycle, in his jacket that’s a little big on you. You wanted to see his reaction. His genuine reaction.

They open the gate and he runs to you, scooping you up into his arms as he spins you around. He’s free. You have your lawyer friend working on getting all his charges completely dropped. He doesn’t know yet, but so far, it’s looking promising. For now, this is surprise enough.

Yancy sets you down, and you can tell it takes a moment before it clicks as to what you’re wearing.

“Is- is that my jacket?”

“Mhm!”

“Did youse put patches on it? For me?”

“All those things you mentioned, I tried to find a patch for everything. I was hoping we could go to some of these places someday. Together.”

Yancy’s fingers trace along the patches, as he recalls all the things he told you. He can barely see the leather underneath, but your nervous smile on your face made his heart melt. He had been holding back on enacting on his feelings, not wanting to scare away the one person who cared for him outside of his cell. But what now?

He lifts you into a kiss, one that had been a long time coming. You both melt into it, holding each other tight.

“S-sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry. I love you.”

“I love youse too.”

[kingofmeatballs]

you know

your crown would probably be confiscated when you enter the penitentiary

you ain't no king

.

but, you're a king in yancy's heart

I would steal it back someday tho

[cheezylueezy]

thinking about Yancy..........

i've always wondered about how he knew how to break out of the penitentiary

how many times had he planned an escape since he got there? how many times had he been caught and punished for it? how many times had he thought of giving up and accepting his fate? and when he was finally at the gate, freedom just within his reach, was it then that his guilt caught up to him and he realized he deserved to be locked away?

[lounaticm]

Yancy (AHWM) as a Siren

[fromthedeskof-darkiplier]

Youse have an awesome wedding, Dark! Can't wait to hear all about it at some point. Youses love birds have fun and be happy!

@askahwmyancy

Thank you very much, Yancy.

-D

[starringroleasthehero]

“i know youse is new, but we do things a little differently here.” (Yancy, theauthorlives *wave wave*)

random dialogue prompts. | accepting!

BEING BACK IN PRISON WAS NOT THE IDEAL, but that’s the price to pay for being caught, right? Yancy’s words don’t immediately register with Mark, with him currently still going off on some sort of internal monologue about how he shouldn’t be in prison, about how he’s better than that. He goes through a miniature face journey in the span of a couple of seconds, one that he’s not even aware he’s doing.

But after a moment, he glances to Yancy with a quirked brow, finally allowing the jailbird’s words to sink into his brain. Mark could tell he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, but he’d humour Yancy regardless.

“I can imagine you do. Please, do fill me in on how things work!” He has to remain civil, but that doesn’t mean he can entirely feign enthusiasm. Maybe, just maybe, he could actually get along here. Who knows. Mark sure as hell doesn’t.

[invinciblecaptained]

//a quick tag dump since I forgot to do that, apparently sdhgfsgdfhjsd I’m also likely missing some but. I’ll plonk those in when I can <3

[purplequay]

drew the boys im rping heehoo also wil is trans and doesnt bind if somebody misgenders him i Will kill u

[illinoisjournal]

“.....Noisy? I uh.... uhm.... ‘ere!” Shoving a bouquet of flowers that were around in the manor garden into Illinois’ chest, Yancy crossed his arms and looked at him with a mix of a pout and glare. His cheeks were tinted pink, and getting redder the more he spoke. “They fer youse. I was doin’ a... a flowa study earlier, paintin’, an’ ‘ow ‘m done wit’ ‘em... though’ they would do betta wit’ youse ‘stead.”

With that, he huffed and walked off, rubbing at his face like he was in pain. And he was, because he did give them to Illinois with that intention, only realizing how it could be taken as he was actually going through with it.

"Hm-?" Illinois got a face full of petals when the bouquet was shoved towards his chest. Lucky for Yancy, Illy was too busy admiring the flowers to notice how his friends face shifted from pink to red.

"Wow! Thank you Darlin..These are real pretty!"

Smiling,he shifted the bunch of flowers to one hand,waving after the very flustered man with an aloof air about him.

"Show me that painting sometime would you? I'm willing to bet my weight in gold it's just as gorgeous as me~!"

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Couch

Another Yancy fic, this time not from the car. Yes, I’m going to remember to properly tag it this time. 

Yancy x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 792

He’s been out for a couple months. He insisted on crashing on your couch for only a couple weeks, but you insisted that he stick around instead of trying to find another place. You never minded the extra company anyways. Eventually you started joining him on the couch, snuggling up with him, totally platonically, after a movie night together when he fell asleep with his head in your lap. You were showing him some of the movies that he had missed while he was in prison, and it had eventually gotten late, a cold evening under the blanket as you both were dozing off. Eventually he laid down at your insistence, although you did try and offer your bed since you were taking up his normal spot. He refused, mumbling something about not wanting to intrude. You assured him, but you both settled for him laying down on the couch, with you there. Until one night you came home, and found him looking very distressed at the dining room table. You set your keys down on the kitchen counter, sitting across from him on the opposite chair. “Yancy, what’s going on, buddy…?” “My buddies back at the big house don’t’s wants to write to me no more, sayin’ I’m “too changed”.” He looks at you sadly, before putting his head on the table on top of his arms, crossed in front of him. You reach out your hand, patting his head lightly as you try and find the words to comfort him. None of your usual ideas fit in your mind, so you opt for your second choice. “How about we go out, take your mind off of things, just the two of us.” “Like- like a date??” “A platonic one. Between friends.” He seems both relieved and perhaps disappointed at your answer, his face difficult to read past the obvious heartbreak. You go put on a different set of clothes, a pair of jeans, a tight fitting black tee, and a leather jacket to match his. You ran out of room for patches on his, and he got you one for your birthday. When you come out, he beams a little at you, going to grab his jacket and your helmets. He hands you yours, “3S” on the side of yours and “10LS” on his. You never could figure out what they meant, but they seemed to mean something to him when he got them custom ordered. You head out to his bike, taking your usual spot behind him, your arms wrapped around his waist in a totally platonic way. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. “Where to?” “I’m thinking that diner downtown with the roller skating waitresses. Sound good?” “Sounds great!” He slides down his visor, popping yours down too before you drive downtown. You both enjoy the view, sun setting in the autumn sky. The diner is fun, filled with fifties decor and waitresses who probably had “balancing” as a dump stat. You share some giggles over your food, until his shake is spilled on the floor. He goes to just order a new one, but you simply ask for a second straw. “Youse don’t haveta share! I can gets a new one!” “Yeah, but I want to. It’s okay.” He blushes, sharing the milkshake with you. You can’t help but look into his big, brown eyes, shining in the light of the neon signs. You find yourself getting lost in them, until you realize he’s staring back at you, making you both blush. The shake is finished in silence, both parties avoiding eye contact, with an awkward walk back to the bike. The drive home continues the quiet, the sounds of only loud crickets and the road before you arrive home, walking into your apartment, him looking particularly sheepish. “Could- uh- could I ask youse somethin’?” He rubs the back of his neck, bashful and seemingly embarrassed about what he is trying to muster up the courage to say. “Y-yeah, go ahead.” “Could we’s call that a real date? Been meanin’ ta ask youse, and uh- I’s think that counts…” You look at him, remembering the five years you spent, waiting for him. How much he means to you. All the small things. But most of all, how much he cherishes the jacket you saved for him, and all the patches you collected. “Yeah, I think we can.” He beams at you, pulling you into a kiss, spinning you around. You both pull out of it, stunned at his enthusiasm and equally blushing. He stutters out an apology as you catch his lips in another kiss. Why continue to look for a bigger apartment when you only need one bedroom? Couches are meant for sitting anyways.

[westanthewaterman]

Since yancy x Illinois x reader now lives in my head rent free, could I maybe get some fluff with that, if okay?

I love this trio, I think Yancy and Illinois would really work together and adding a third element just makes it so <3

Yancy likes to be little spoon, you in the middle, and Illinois as the big spoon

The three of you each have your own set of chores you do around the house - Yancy does laundry, Illinois vaccums, and you do dishes

Illinois has a cat and he brings her with him when you all move in together

Originally, you and Yancy had been together and Yancy and Illinois had been together

You and Illinois got along, but it wasn't until the two of you teamed up to do something extra special for Yancy's first birthday out of prison that the two of you start to bond

Sometimes you and Yancy both steal Illinois's body wash because it smells so good

You're the best cook out of the three of you

Yancy has the best music taste

Illinois is the one that takes care of bugs