Art The Clown X Reader One shots! (Open)

Silent Gifts (NG reader)

The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and pine, the bustling mall alive with the chaotic spirit of the holiday season. Shoppers weaved through the crowds, their arms full of bags, the glow of festive lights casting a warm haze over everything. It was supposed to be a time of joy, but you felt none of it. You had come here to escape your thoughts, hoping the distraction of Christmas shoppers and holiday decorations would drown out the feeling of dread that had been following you for days.

You'd heard the news, how could you not? A string of brutal murders had swept through the city, the images plastered across every screen, every headline. They called him a monster, a freak, someone who could never be stopped. Art the Clown. The thought of his black-and-white painted face sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just that he was a killer; there was something far more terrifying about the silence that accompanied his presence, the way he seemed to toy with his victims like a child playing with a fragile doll.

You shook the thought from your head, trying to focus on the noise around you as you wandered deeper into the mall. There was no reason to be afraid. Not here. The mall was packed, brightly lit, and full of security.

Ahead, you saw a makeshift Santa’s Village set up in the center court. A long line of parents and children waited eagerly for their turn with the jolly old man. You stopped in your tracks as you saw him.

The Santa wasn’t like any you had seen before. His suit was the usual red and white, but the way he wore it... something was off. His grin stretched too wide, painted lips curved in a way that felt wrong, like he was barely containing some dark joke he refused to share. His eyes, surrounded by thick black makeup, scanned the crowd like a predator.

Your heart skipped a beat as recognition hit you. That was him. Art the Clown. Dressed as Santa.

You tried to move, but your feet felt frozen. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was busy, children were sitting on his lap, unaware of the horror beneath the costume. You could run. You should run.

But something kept you rooted in place.

It was only when the last child scampered off that his head snapped in your direction. His smile grew wider, impossibly wide. You saw the glint of something sharp hidden behind his Santa coat, and for a moment, you thought that this was it, this was how it would end.

But instead of approaching you with violence, he raised one fingerless gloved hand and beckoned.

Your heart raced, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but your body betrayed you. Your legs carried you forward, closer and closer to him until you were standing right in front of the man you had been terrified of for days.

He tilted his head, watching you with those unnervingly sharp eyes. His silence was unbearable. You searched his face, looking for any sign of what he was going to do. Was he going to kill you right here, in front of everyone?

Instead, he reached behind his back and produced a small gift, wrapped in glittering paper. He held it out to you, that same unsettling grin still plastered on his face.

Your hand trembled as you reached for it, unable to understand what was happening. He could have killed you by now. He could have done anything. But here he was, offering you a gift as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As your fingers brushed the box, his other hand gently caught your wrist. His touch was cold, but there was an unexpected softness to it, a strange tenderness that made your pulse quicken in a way that wasn’t just fear.

He brought your hand up to his face, pressing the back of your knuckles to his cheek. His eyes never left yours, that predatory gleam still there, but now it was mixed with something else...

something almost affectionate.

You felt like you were trapped in some twisted version of reality, unable to make sense of what was happening. This was Art the Clown. He didn’t show affection. He didn’t give gifts.

Yet here you were, standing in the middle of a crowded mall, locked in this bizarre moment of intimacy with a man who had slaughtered countless people. Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his grin softening just slightly. You half expected him to snap, to reveal a weapon and finish you off right then and there, but instead, he pressed his cold lips to your hand in a mock kiss, his eyes twinkling with that same silent amusement.

For a moment, the world faded away. It was just the two of you, locked in this terrifyingly tender exchange. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, he released your hand, stepping back with a playful flourish, like he had just completed some grand performance.

He winked, then pointed at the gift in your hand, before slowly turning on his heel and vanishing into the crowd.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the small box, your heart still racing. You looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed anything strange. It was as if you were the only one who had seen him for what he truly was.

Swallowing hard, you peeled back the glittering paper. Inside the box was a simple ring, black and silver, glinting in the light of the mall. Your stomach twisted in knots, and you knew this wasn’t over.

Art would be back.

And next time, it wouldn’t be a gift he offered...