#yancyxreader

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.

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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 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.