Hey!!!!! Its Me Again!!! Wanted To Ask For A Reader Who Acts Like Art The Clown From Terrifier W/ Yan

Late Night Latte

Modern! Barista! Cedric (the sorcerer) x Fem!College Reader

OKAY OKAY PLEASE DONT YELL AT ME IM SORRY I LOVE YOU GUYS, IM WORKING I SWEAR<33333

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Cedric ran his fingers through his dark hair, letting out a soft sigh as he wiped down the last of the coffee machine. The small coffee shop was nearly empty, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of paper. It was 9:50 p.m. on a Thursday, and he was just about to close. His shift was nearly over, and he was already mentally thinking about his plans for the night. Maybe he’d read a book, maybe he’d try something new with his spellwork, but either way, he was looking forward to heading home.

As he wiped down the counter, the little bell above the door jingled. Cedric glanced up, his annoyance already bubbling to the surface as he saw the tired-looking girl walk in. She looked like the type of person who wouldn’t leave until he practically begged her to. Sure enough, she shuffled up to the counter with a yawn and a slight slouch.

"Hey," she mumbled, her voice husky with exhaustion, her eyes half-lidded. "Could I get a caramel latte? Extra shot of espresso."

Cedric forced a polite smile, but he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. "Sure. Anything else?" he asked, trying to hide his irritation. He was so ready to go home.

"No, just the latte," she replied, sliding a few crumpled bills across the counter.

He rang her up with a quiet grumble under his breath, taking the money and turning to make her drink. He had learned to manage his impatience over the years—working with people all day and night had done that to him—but something about this late-night rush always rubbed him the wrong way.

He couldn’t help but notice how the girl seemed almost invisible to the world. Her hair, messy and tied loosely into a bun, matched the dark circles under her eyes. Her clothes were simple and worn, like she was far too tired to care about anything other than getting some caffeine. But even then, she had a determined air about her, like she was pushing through exhaustion with every step.

As he worked, Cedric found his eyes flicking over to her. She didn’t seem like the type who normally came into the shop, but maybe that was because she only ever showed up just before closing. The last few nights, she’d come in, ordered the same drink, and left just as quietly as she arrived.

It became a strange routine. And as Cedric pulled the espresso shots and steamed the milk for her latte, he couldn’t help but wonder why she looked so damn tired. College student? Probably. Working late? Definitely. But what was it that kept her coming back at this hour? There had to be more to it.

Cedric finished making the latte and slid it across the counter with a soft smile, handing her the steaming cup. She nodded, grabbing it without much fanfare.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her tired eyes glancing up at him for a brief moment. "You’re still open tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, same time," Cedric said, his annoyance fading just a bit. She always seemed so lost in her own world, like she was too worn out to engage in much conversation.

"Great," she whispered, then turned and walked towards the door, the bell jingling softly behind her as she disappeared into the night.

Cedric stood for a moment, leaning against the counter. He had no idea what her deal was, but he started to realize he expected her now. It wasn’t just the late-night rush or the tired look on her face. It was something else—a habit forming, a strange connection between them that neither of them acknowledged. It was the ritual of her visits that made the late hours a little less lonely, a little less tedious. She wasn’t just a customer anymore—she was a part of his evening.

---

It became a consistent pattern. Every night, just before closing, She would shuffle in, order her caramel latte with the extra espresso shot, pay, and leave. Cedric had even started preparing her drink before she ordered, knowing exactly what she wanted. He still didn’t know her name, but it felt like an unspoken bond—he served her, and she came back.

One night, as she walked in, looking even more worn-out than usual, Cedric gave her a knowing look. She smiled faintly at him, and for the first time, he saw a spark of something more than exhaustion in her eyes.

"Hey," she said, leaning a little more heavily on the counter than normal. "Sorry, I know I’m your last customer every night…"

"Don’t worry about it," Cedric replied, setting to work on her drink. "It’s not like I have anything else going on."

She laughed softly, though it sounded more like a tired exhale. "Same. College life… you know how it is. Late nights, endless deadlines. I swear, I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore."

Cedric gave a half-smile as he slid the caramel latte over to her, a bit more gently than usual. "I get it. I used to be in your shoes. Still am, actually. Just different kinds of deadlines."

She chuckled quietly, taking the cup and glancing at him for a second. "Thanks. You know, I’ve been coming in for a while now, but I don’t think I’ve ever caught your name."

"Cedric," he said, his voice softening. "And you’re Y/n, right?"

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, surprised that he remembered her. "Yeah, wow… that’s kind of sweet. You must be a better barista than I thought."

Cedric smirked a little. "I try."

They stood there in the small, quiet space for a moment, the world outside seeming far away. And for once, Cedric didn’t mind that he was staying a little later than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Cedric," Y/n said with a small but genuine smile.

"Same time?" he asked, already preparing to pour her drink again.

"Same time," she confirmed, then walked out into the night.

Cedric watched her leave, the door closing softly behind her. Maybe he wasn’t just serving coffee anymore. Maybe, just maybe, there was a bit more magic to these late-night visits than he’d first thought.

Misunderstood By Society (3)

Asylum Patient! König x GN! Doctor! Reader

Warnings⚠️: Posted here

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The quiet hum of my apartment felt almost unnatural after the weight of the asylum. The dim glow of my desk lamp cast long shadows as I flipped through König’s file, the pages slightly worn from being handled so many times.

I had read through his basics already—his history of violence, his refusal to remove his hood, his resistance to treatment—but it wasn’t until I dug deeper into his medication list that my brows furrowed.

Several of his prescriptions made sense—antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety medications—but a few names stood out.

{High doses of sedatives. Heavy tranquilizers.}

I muttered to myself, running a finger down the list. “Were they trying to sedate him or tranquilize him?”

I had seen this before. In facilities like Winchester, when a patient became too “difficult,” the solution was often chemical restraint rather than actual treatment. But König wasn’t an animal to be put down when he got too aggressive—he was a man. A man with a fractured mind, one that had been pushed to the point of breaking.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed a hand down my face. I’d figure that out later. For now, I needed to prepare.

I got up, threw a microwave dinner into the machine, and let it spin while I grabbed my notebook. König’s file had listed his three biggest diagnoses—**PTSD, Severe Anxiety, and Bipolar Disorder.** None of them were uncommon for someone with a history like his, but combined with past military experience and hallucinations? It was a volatile mix.

I started writing.

PTSD:

- Triggers can vary (sounds, environments, smells).

- Hypervigilance—may react aggressively if startled.

- May experience flashbacks—important to ground them in the present.

- Do not corner or restrain without necessity—could escalate panic.

Severe Anxiety:

- Constant state of heightened awareness.

- Likely has difficulty trusting others—especially in a place like this.

- Resistance to medication may stem from paranoia.

- Routines might help stabilize his mood.

Bipolar Disorder:

- Mood swings—manic episodes vs. depressive episodes.

- Manic: Impulsive behavior, possible aggression.

- Depressive: Withdrawal, possible suicidal ideation.

- Medication regulation is critical.

I tapped the pen against my notepad, thinking. König wasn’t just violent—he was reactive. His entire life, he had been treated as a monster, as something to be subdued rather than understood. It wasn’t surprising that he lashed out.

The mircowave beeped, but I barely noticed it, my mind too focused on the task ahead. If I was going to handle this right, I needed to know what not to do.

What NOT to do around König:

- Sudden movements or loud noises—could trigger defensive aggression.

- Forced eye contact—may make him feel challenged or threatened.

- Overuse of restraints—will increase distrust and worsen anxiety.

- Talking down to him—he’s not *stupid*, and treating him like a child will only piss him off.

- Forcing medication—there has to be a reason he refuses it. Find out why.

I exhaled, closing the notebook.

Tomorrow was going to be my first session with König. I wasn’t walking into this blind.

I was going to be prepared.

————————————————————————

The asylum always felt colder in the mornings. Maybe it was just the old building settling, or maybe it was something else—something deeper. Either way, I felt it in my bones as I made my way to the lockers, stopping when I saw Miss. Nessi leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Morning," she greeted, offering me a small but knowing smile.

"Morning," I replied, twisting open my locker and grabbing my things. "Anything I should know before I see him?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Jacobs is already in there."

I paused, my fingers gripping the edge of my clipboard a little tighter. "Of course he is."

"Be careful," Nessi murmured, lowering her voice. "You ever notice how some of the staff here act like they enjoy this place a little too much?" I glanced at her, noting the concern in her eyes. She was right. There were people here who weren’t just desensitized to the work—they thrived in it. Jacobs was one of them.

I gave her a nod, silently assuring her I’d be fine before heading to König’s restricted wing.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong.

König was restrained, held down by two guards, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His breathing was sharp and uneven, chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. Jacobs stood in front of him, holding a small paper cup filled with pills.

"You gonna take 'em, or are we gonna have to *help* you again?" Jacobs taunted, his voice laced with amusement. "Come on, big guy. Open up."

König didn’t move. His hood obscured most of his face, but even from here, I could feel the intensity of his glare.

I flipped through my notebook, skimming my own notes. "Intimidation tactics don’t work," I said aloud, not bothering to hide my disapproval. "Neither does *antagonizing* the patient, but I guess that’s too much to ask."

Jacobs turned, his cocky smirk faltering slightly. "Oh, look, the new doc finally showed up." I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I met his gaze with a calm but firm stare. "Leave."

Jacobs scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You’re excused," I replied evenly. "I’ll be handling his medication today." Jacobs’ jaw tightened. "You’re new. You don’t know how things work around here." I smiled, sharp and polite. "I know enough to recognize unprofessional behavior when I see it. Now, leave."

For a moment, I thought he’d argue, but something in my expression must have told him I wasn’t budging. He rolled his eyes and stepped back, shoving the cup into my hands before walking off with an irritated huff. I turned to the guards. "Out."

One of them hesitated. "Doctor, we’re required to—"

"—Stay out." My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "You’re not helping."

They exchanged looks but, eventually, backed away. The heavy doors clicked shut behind them, leaving just me and König in the room.

I finally exhaled, looking up at him. His breathing was still uneven, but now that Jacobs and the guards were gone, it wasn’t as ragged. His shoulders remained tense, but his fists had loosened slightly.

I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "They always treat you like that?"

Silence.

I held up the cup of pills. "I read your file. I know you don’t like taking these. I’m not going to force you. But if we’re going to work together, I need to understand *why* you refuse them." König didn’t speak, but he was listening. That was a start.

I placed the cup on the small table beside us, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. "I’ll leave these here. Your choice. No threats. No force." I took a step back, giving him space.

"Can I take these off?" I gestured to the restraints. His fingers curled slightly, muscles twitching, but he gave a small nod. Carefully, I reached for the straps, undoing them one by one.

As the last restraint fell away, König didn’t move. He just *watched* me. For the first time since I walked in, I met his gaze, though his face remained shadowed beneath his hood.

"I’m Dr. Y/N," I said softly. "And I'll be taking care of you."

He's so pretty..... @cedric-my-beloved 🫶🫡

JUST SAW THE TRAILER FOR SONIC 3 AT 6:00 THIS MORNING-

ScREAMINGCRYINGTHROWINGUP

IM ACTUALLY REALLY EXCITED- Might start writing for the boys...and Rouge- but we'll seeeee♡

WAIT WE CAN DO THIS NOW WITHOUT JUDGEMENT?!

oh im SO making my own sonic oc so i can selfship with shadow

its 2025 leave the cringe behind and indulge in 2010 interests freely guys

AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS EP 3 IS OUT.

FUUUUUCCKKKK-

The emotional Rollercoaster guys, ow...

I've loved kinger, he's so silly I love him

But that episode, just o w .....

I watched it at 11:30 last night, adding it to my masterlist...I need to make masterlists for my masterlists....I'm sorryyyy guys ill do that eventually I promise-

Anywayyyyy....

Yeahh ♡♡

-Writer Icy♡

I've never laughed so hard at seeing what was in my notifications today-

I'm so glad I'm not alone in this insane obsession 🫣

@acey-wacey @xenniboii 🩵

I made this-

Do I regret?? Absolutely not-

ICYPOP POST A SBG X READER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😨😨😨😨😨AND ALL MY PASSWORDS TO MY ACCOUNTS ARE YOU'RE😨😨😨😭😭😭😭😭😭

AHHH NO DONT DO THAT ITS OKAY!!!!!

I promise im trying!!! Im gonna get some fics out tonight but I also have some extra announcements coming and I'm working on fixing my masterlists and organizing so everything isn't as messy as my brain

I love you guys, I SWEAR I'LL FEED YOU GUYS <3

-Writer Icy<3

For a Moment

Chapter 1: A Night to Remember

Dawn's POV

The hum of voices and clinking glasses filled the restaurant, a small, cozy place I’d practically grown up in thanks to Tommy. Tonight, though, felt different. There was a buzz in the air, an energy I couldn’t quite explain.

I leaned against the bar, arms crossed, watching my brother like a hawk as he chatted with a couple of his bandmates. “So, what’s the deal with this guy?” I asked, nudging Tommy’s arm.

“Relax, Dawn. Frankie’s got pipes, trust me,” Tommy replied with a smirk, not even glancing my way.

“That’s what you said about the last guy, and he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Tommy finally turned to look at me, his smirk shifting into something closer to annoyance. “You’ll see. Just… stick around, alright?”

I huffed, but curiosity got the better of me, so I stayed put, nursing a soda and watching as Tommy waved Frankie over.

When Frankie stepped up to the stage, the crowd quieted. He was smaller than I expected, with this boyish charm that made him seem almost out of place among the seasoned musicians Tommy usually ran with. But there was something about the way he carried himself—nervous but confident, like he had a secret he was dying to share.

Tommy grabbed the mic first, his grin wide and easy. “Alright, folks, we got a treat for ya tonight. Frankie here’s gonna show ya what he’s got!”

The crowd clapped politely, and I could see Frankie shift on his feet, adjusting the mic stand. Then he started singing.

“I can't give you anything but love, baby…”

The room transformed. His voice wasn’t just good—it was *magical*. Smooth, velvety, with a touch of vulnerability that made you lean in, made you *want* to listen.

I watched as the women in the crowd melted—leaning forward, whispering to each other, their eyes sparkling. But while they fell in love with Frankie Valli, the heartthrob, I was drawn to something deeper. The way he sang felt personal, like he was sharing a piece of himself with everyone in the room.

I found myself gripping the edge of my seat, hanging on every note.

"Alright so the kid can sing,” I muttered, not tearing my eyes away from the stage.

By the time Frankie hit the last note, the room erupted in applause. He ducked his head, a shy smile on his face, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration.

Tommy leaned closer, a sly grin playing on his lips. “What’d I tell ya, huh? Kid’s gonna be a star.”

I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching Frankie step off the stage with his shy smile, already wondering how someone so small could fill a room like that.

————————————————————————

Now, of course, the usual problem came up with the crashed car in the jewlery shop with a giant safe came along and Frankie got blamed.

But he was loyal to Tommy, holding his own until that court date that landed Tommy 6 months in jail.

Now, Tommy being in jail wasn’t exactly new territory, but this time it felt different. Six months was a long time, even for him. And while I could’ve used the break from his constant scheming, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was counting on me to keep an eye on Frankie.

Frankie was good—too good to waste his time sneaking around town, crooning to impress every girl who batted her lashes at him. He had potential, but if he didn’t take himself seriously, he was going to get nowhere fast.

I spotted him one afternoon, leaning against the side of a diner, serenading a small group of girls with that same song he’d sung at the restaurant. “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love.” It was sweet, sure, but I could see right through him—the way he tilted his head just so, smiling at their giggles. He was eating it up.

“Seriously, Frankie?” I called, crossing my arms as I walked up to him.

The girls looked at me like I’d interrupted the second coming, but Frankie just grinned, finishing the last note before lowering his voice. “Hey, Dawn. What’s the matter? Jealous?”

“Jealous of what? A guy who’s got a fan club but no direction? Please.” I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched, betraying the smallest smile.

“Direction?” He scoffed, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You sound like my old teacher.”

“Yeah, well, she was probably right,” I shot back. “If you keep wasting your time with these sidewalk performances, you’re never going to get anywhere.”

The girls murmured their disapproval, but Frankie waved them off. “Go on, girls. We’ll pick this up later.”

Once we were alone, he turned to me, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “You really think I’m wasting my time?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’ve got talent, Frankie. Real talent. But if you don’t take it seriously, no one else will.”

“Alright,” he said, tilting his head playfully. “What do you suggest, Coach?”

I ignored the sarcasm and straightened my posture. “First of all, stop singing the same song to every girl who’ll listen. Show some range. Second, work on your stage presence. You’ve got a good voice, but you fidget like you’re afraid someone’s going to throw a tomato at you.”

“Tomatoes, huh?” His lips quirked, and he leaned closer, his tone teasing. “What, you gonna start chucking them if I mess up?”

I gave him a light shove, unable to hold back a laugh. “Maybe I will, if it gets you to focus.”

From that day on, we had this strange rhythm. Whenever we crossed paths—at the diner, the grocery store, even on the street—he’d have some new line, half flirty, half sassy, and I’d throw it right back at him.

“Dawn,” he’d call out one afternoon, his hands cupped around his mouth. “Wanna hear a new one? I’ve been practicing.”

“Not if it’s another love song,” I’d reply, pretending to groan.

“It’s jazz!” he’d counter, flashing that boyish grin that somehow made it hard to stay mad.

Frankie had a way of getting under my skin, but I couldn’t deny he was improving. Little by little, his voice grew stronger, his confidence steadier. And while I still wanted to strangle him every time he flirted his way through a practice session, I couldn’t help but feel proud.

Tommy might’ve been the one who brought him into the fold, but I was the one keeping him on track. For now, at least.

After Nick landed himself in jail after Frankie's little rendezvous with a lady in a church, that left me to carry the boys heavy work until Tommy came home.

Frankie and I had already spent a bit of time together...not bonding though. It was more like teaching and slightly insulting him to step it up.

When Tommy came home though, I was off the hook and back into sidelines... Watching the miss Mary Delgado find a special spot in Frankie's heart.

I made this-

Do I regret?? Absolutely not-