Art The Clown X Reader One shots! (Open)

A Dance in the Dark (male reader)

The aquarium was eerily quiet after hours, save for the soft hum of water tanks and the occasional bubbling from various exhibits. It had been a stupid idea to sneak in, really. But you had been dared by your friends, and like always, you didn’t back down. Besides, you’d always liked the quiet of the aquarium, finding solace in the way the fish swam gracefully, unaware of the chaos that lived outside their glass walls.

You moved through the dimly lit corridors, your shoes tapping softly against the polished floor. The tanks cast strange, shimmering light patterns across the space, reflecting on the walls and your skin. You paused in front of a massive tank housing sharks, their sleek bodies gliding through the water, their predatory eyes never blinking. You were so entranced that you didn’t notice the shadow looming behind you until it was too late.

A soft squeak broke the silence.

Your heart stopped, the sound unmistakable. You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Slowly, you turned around, only to come face to face with him.

Art the Clown.

He stood there, his lips twisted into that wide, unnatural grin, his black-and-white face staring back at you with those wild, hungry eyes. His body language was playful, but you knew better than to believe that. Art was anything but harmless.

You took a step back, trying to swallow down the rising tide of fear that clawed at your throat. You’d heard the stories, seen the news, and you knew what he was capable of. This wasn’t some random encounter. No, Art didn’t leave things up to chance. He chose his victims with purpose, and now you were the one in his sights.

“I-I have to go,” you stammered, hoping that talking might somehow diffuse the tension, but Art just tilted his head, his grin never faltering. He pulled out a small horn from his bag and honked it, the sound absurdly cheerful in the midst of your terror.

You took another step back, but he mirrored you, stepping forward with exaggerated movements, almost like a twisted dance. It was then that you realized there was no escape. No one would hear you scream. The only witnesses were the creatures in the tanks, watching with cold, unblinking eyes.

“Please…” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up as your body trembled. Your mind was racing, a mix of fear and… something else. There was something in the way Art looked at you, something beyond the malice. It was almost affectionate, in a twisted, deranged sort of way. He wasn’t just toying with you for fun, there was an intimacy in how he watched you, how his eyes gleamed with excitement as you cowered before him.

Before you could move, Art reached out, his finger topless gloved hand brushing against your cheek. You flinched at the cold leather, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers trailed down to your neck, your pulse pounding beneath his touch. The way he gazed at you, it felt wrong, like he was savoring the moment, enjoying your fear as if it were something precious.

He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his breath cool against your skin. The intensity of his stare was suffocating, and despite the terror, your body betrayed you with a flush of heat. You didn’t want to feel anything but fear, yet there was something about the closeness, the way he studied you like you were something special.

But Art’s version of affection was twisted. He didn’t love in the way you understood. His love was destruction, chaos. It was the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. He let out a silent laugh, his shoulders shaking as he watched you with growing fascination.

He raised a finger to his lips, a silent command. Be quiet. You obeyed, though your heart was pounding in your chest, threatening to explode.

Then, without warning, Art pulled something from his back, a long, gleaming knife. The light from the tanks reflected off the blade, casting wicked glints across the room. He twirled it in his hand, playing with it as if it were a toy, before pointing it directly at you.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Art moved closer, pressing the tip of the knife against your chest, just lightly enough that it didn’t break skin. The grin on his face stretched impossibly wide, his eyes filled with something like joy, no, something deeper, darker. It was like he was savoring this, drawing out the moment for as long as he could.

“Please… don’t…” Your voice cracked, but it was too late. The knife plunged into your chest, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips. The pain was immediate, sharp and all-consuming.

But Art wasn’t done. He didn’t pull the knife out right away. Instead, he twisted it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as your life drained away. There was something almost tender in the way he watched you struggle, the way his fingers brushed against your cheek one last time as your vision blurred, the edges of the world fading into darkness.

As your body slumped to the ground, Art crouched beside you, watching with quiet fascination as the last bit of life drained from your eyes. He cocked his head, almost like he was admiring a piece of art. His hand hovered over your cheek for a moment longer before he stood up, his grin never fading.

Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you in the cold silence of the aquarium, surrounded by glass walls and the indifferent eyes of creatures that swam peacefully in their tanks.

For Art, it had been a dance, a final waltz in the dark. And like all his dances, it had ended with death.

But for just a moment, in his twisted mind, he had loved you.