Markiplier Ego Oneshots

Visitation- Yancy/Reader

Okay, let me explain. I'm almost done with the request. This is just... uhh... Yancy possessing me to write this. I'm in the middle of writing 5 different fics because I can't focus for the life of me.

Art by the-moon-pal on Tumblr. I thought it was funny! Also, the YouTube video was made(?) by me! I'm going to have "I Don't Wanna Be Free" stuck in my head all day, aren't I.

Warnings: prison, solitary confinement, blood and murder mentions, nightmares, broken glass, breaking and entering, crying, smoking, kissing (I've never written kissing before), Yancy maybe-unhealthily pining over you

Yancy sprinted as fast as he could from the gate as your gaze was down at the box in your hand. He was never good at saying goodbye. He knew that you had to leave as much as he had to stay, but it was goddamn hard to leave your side. Yancy resisted the quiet yet insistent voice in his head telling him to run away with you. He knew that if he stayed at the exit with you any longer, the more painful your goodbye and the stronger the pull of leaving the prison would be. So he did you both a favor and left before you could look up.

It hurt.

Yancy hid behind a building out of your eyeshot, breathing deeply as he leaned against the brick wall. He steadily counted to 10 in his head, willing himself to calm his breathing. He slowly peaked out from his hiding spot. You were already walking away from the prison, a dark shadow on the other side of the gate. You had a nice shadow, Yancy mused, watching until it blended into the darkness of the night.

Yancy let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His chest felt tight; he assumed it was from the running. Yancy started to make his way back into his cell, quietly sneaking around the familiar maze of the prison he called home. At one point Yancy instinctively turned around to check if you were following behind: you were not.

His cell was empty and quiet now, the way it was before you arrived. The bottom bunk would remain untouched (he let you stay in his cell after all) and neat with the blankets and throw pillows tidied. Yancy wouldn't let anyone else stay there, not even Heapass. He did have a tough-guy reputation to keep, even if the homey décor of his cell gave away his inner softness (he punched the face of anyone who insulted his sense of interior design). Yancy wasn't planning to have anyone sleeping over in his room. That and the thought of someone else using your bed sounded disgusting, even though you were probably never coming back to use it.

Yancy paused, staring at your framed mugshot on the nightstand. He picked it up and laid it sentimentality on your pillow. Then Yancy climbed up the top bunk and went to sleep with thoughts of you still plaguing his brain.

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The next morning, Yancy lifted weights in the yard while humming "The Disclaimer Song". The inmates had only about an hour of rec and Yancy planned on making full use of it. The day room was pretty busy with Yancy's ragtag gang running around. He wanted them to tone up for the next dance sequence to celebrate the Warden's upcoming birthday, which wasn't a long ways away. Tiny was supposed to be spotting reps for him, but she was busy staring intently at the closed prison doors.

"The Warden is mad at you," Tiny said in almost a whisper after a long moment of silence.

Yancy set the weights down. "Wha-?" He got cut off by the doors slamming open.

Mr. Murderslaughter stood in the doorway with two guards behind him. His arms were crossed and his expression was as stern and serious as usual. The prisoners have long since learned to read his microexpressions with impeccable accuracy to gauge exactly when he was on the brink of exploding. It was the only way they were able to survive this long. And Tiny was right.