#oingo boingo sounding name fr

[sourszt]

𝟑:𝟑𝟗 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — fluff, you paint art’s nails!, autistic!reader, lowkey just tooth rotting fluff, cuddles, autistic rambles (me fr whenever i Know Stuff) part 2 to this (i hope tumblr will let me link it, if not it’s titled Small Cuts!)

the next time he saw you, you weren’t sleeping.

the rest of miles county was, art made sure of that when he crept through your unlocked back door. you were lying on your living room sofa with your back to that door, focused on the front door. the one he’d used last time. in your lap was the bee plush from last time, stained red in some spots where he had held it.

on your head you wore bulky headphones, likely noise cancelling because when art slammed the door to test the waters, you didn’t even flinch. he rolled his eyes. how unprepared you were. ironically, while you were waiting for him, too.

he debated taking your head off with his rusted cleaver. actually doing it this time. he had no great excuse not to, but his curiosity got the better of him and he ended up planting himself right behind you to knock your headphones off.

it was playful. it only startled you for a moment, thinking your pet was jumping on your head, but you grinned when you saw the black and white clown smiling down at you. he waved his fingers almost flirtatiously, accepting the stuffed animal you once again thrust against his chest.

again, shock overcame him and he was partially upset that the familiar rush of adrenaline right before the kill of a lifetime never came. but he took the little bee and made him dance in your face, booping your nose once more.

“do you like him?” you asked. the sound of your voice looked like it scared him, like he wasn’t expecting it. “you can keep him. i named him beet.” you were pretty soft spoken despite the excitement that radiated off of you.

art eagerly nodded and hugged the stuffed animal to his chest rather theatrically. he pointed to your sofa, particularly where your legs were draped across the cushions, then at himself.

“oh, yes,” you shifted over to allow him to sit down. he bounced on the cushions, admiring how comfortable they were. then he set little beet aside and poked at your headphones. his blue eyes looked to you for permission.

you nodded and helped him put them on, holding his little top hat while he listened to your music. you glanced at your phone to see what he was listening to. “oh, i love this song. dead man’s party by oingo boingo. do you know oingo boingo?” you asked, pushing the headphones back off of one of his ears. he shook his head, clearly enjoying your choice of song. “it’s nice, right?”

he listened as best as he could to your aimless rambles about the band and the music and how the lead singer was the singing voice of jack skellington from a movie he’d never had the interest to see. you hugged your knees to your chest and watched him. rather, his hands.

he held the headphones to his ears, giving you a good view of his dirtied hands. his gloves were pristine white but his fingernails were crusted with dirt and the remnants of something red. you moved slowly as to not startle him and tapped his arm, gesturing for his hand. reluctantly, he allowed you to take it onto your knee.

he stared at you while you observed the state of his nails. they were a good length, so he likely clipped them and didn’t bite them. you held a finger up and disappeared upstairs for a while. when you came back down, you had two handfuls of equipment. scrubbers, lotions, bottles, nail polish.

“may i see?” you asked, the products laid out in your lap.

it was intimidating. this was a typical setup before he burned someone alive with acid and skinned them. who was to say you wouldn’t do the same?

but you hadn’t yet.

so he stretched his arm out to you. he placed his hand in your lap while you scooted closer, draping your legs across his lap with his permission. the song eventually changed and he zoned out to concentrate on the new one, rocking to the rhythm of it.

you wet his hand with some oils after removing his glove and rubbed it in before going in with a little brush that got rid of the dirt and flecks of paint. then you filed his nails and prepped them for black polish that you painted on with precision. when you finished one hand, you waited for him to give you the other.

he admired the job you did, smiling and pointing at his nails. you nodded along. “do you like it?” he gave you a thumbs up with his free hand, waving his wet nails around to dry faster. “be careful, or it’ll ruin.” you praised his carefulness.

art patted his lap, helping you comfortably onto his legs so you could easily do his other hand. you repeated the process, narrating it to him this time. a few times, you had to tell him to hold still when he’d get carried away with the music.

when both were finished and dry, you helped him put his gloves back on and giggled at how excited he was by the new little makeover. he hugged you close, wiggling you around like a kid with a stuffed animal bigger than itself.

he was quite comfortable to sit on, and he allowed you to for the next couple of hours while you talked about each song that he listened to. he appeared to like your music taste. “this is my monthly playlist.” you informed him when he started to click around on your phone. he went to several different playlists and tapped on random songs until settling on one he liked.

“korn? i didn’t see that coming.” you shrugged. you very quickly got to rambling about facts you knew about that band. after a bit, you started to grow tired and curled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder. it was getting pretty late but you didn’t want the moment to end.

art reached over and grabbed beet, placing him in your lap. he knew you were close to gone when your chatter began to die down. he had to admit, he liked hearing you talk. it was certainly a pleasant change from screaming and crying.

he didn’t mind when it came to a stop and you had melted against his chest with steady, soft snores. subconsciously, your arm had loosely wrapped around his torso. it was odd. normally if someone managed to get this close to him, they wouldn’t be breathing anymore. yet here you were, sleeping so soundly in his lap.

with his manicured hands, he scooped you up and walked you upstairs to your bed. he placed you down gently and tucked a spare plushie into your arms. you didn’t stir.

he left your headphones on top of your coffee table beside your phone when he took his leave, alone with a little note that read: ART :)

lowkey based on a fanart i saw where he had black painted nails ugh i love him so much im fully convinced i’d get through to him and he’d be my bestie (let me be crazy pls) + i feel like he’d be so patient with autistic ppl (still delusional) yippee