Art The Clown X Reader One shots! (Open)

The Stalker in the Shadows (NG reader)

(short I'm srry)

You had sensed it, a prickling feeling, like eyes on you from unseen places. For weeks now, something shadowy and sinister had lingered at the edges of your world, brushing close yet never fully revealing itself. Paranoia whispered in your ear, but each time you'd glance around, you were met only with empty spaces, the flickering of streetlights, and distant sounds of the city. Still, something didn't sit right, the heavy, unshakable presence building each night like a storm approaching.

The city's recent headlines didn't help. The news had been ablaze about a killer, a clown who left twisted trails of fear and blood in his wake. Eyewitnesses reported seeing him lurking in abandoned buildings and dark alleys, his grin wide and eyes wild, taunting any unfortunate enough to cross his path.

That night, you lay in bed, scrolling through the news on your phone as you tried to shake off the anxiety settling over you. You knew you should sleep, but every creak in the house made your pulse jump. Suddenly, a thud from downstairs shattered the silence, freezing you in place.

Your blood ran cold.

Heart hammering, you crept out of bed and held your breath as you listened, straining to hear any movement. Another thud. Footsteps this time, and then... silence.

You edged out of your bedroom, pausing at the top of the staircase. The air felt heavy, each shadow stretched and distorted, pressing in on you from all sides. Step by step, you descended the stairs, clutching the wall as though it could somehow shield you. Then, in the dim light of your living room, you saw him, a figure hunched near the kitchen, back turned to you, shoulders quivering with barely contained glee.

The figure straightened slowly, almost sensing your presence. He turned, revealing a pale, grinning face painted with unsettling precision. Dark eyes glinted, sparkling with a twisted playfulness. The unmistakable silhouette of a clown.

It was Art.

Your mind screamed for you to run, to fight, to do something, but terror locked your limbs, rooting you in place as Art tilted his head, his eyes studying you with a dark fascination. He raised a gloved hand, slowly revealing a scalpel between his fingers, waving it gently as if inviting you to a gruesome game.

With each step he took, you stumbled back, until the cold edge of the kitchen counter pressed into your spine, trapping you. Art closed the distance between you, his eyes alight with mischief, his movements slow, deliberate, savoring every flinch and wide-eyed stare you gave him. He lifted the scalpel to your cheek, its edge cold and sharp, dragging it ever-so-lightly along your skin without breaking it, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Please..." you barely managed to whisper, feeling the word catch in your throat.

Art's grin widened, eyes dancing with something wicked. He leaned in closer, pressing a silent finger to his lips before lowering it to the corner of your mouth, tilting his head as though studying how fear looked on your face. A glint caught your eye as he lifted a small, rusted saw, letting it hang above you with a disturbingly playful shake.

You froze, terror pooling inside you. His eyes flickered over you, the silent promise of pain looming thick between you both. Art brought the saw close enough that you felt its teeth graze your collarbone, close enough that you almost felt the searing burn of it ripping through skin and bone, but just before it could sink in, he pulled it away, laughing in a soundless burst that only deepened the terror in your veins.

Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead, leaving behind a smear of blood, a chilling kiss, full of mocking affection. The touch was gentle, lingering just a moment too long before he pulled back, his grin wider than ever.

As you stared, speechless, he produced a small, cheap plastic ring, sliding it onto your finger with exaggerated delicacy. It felt like a mockery of commitment, twisted with his silent promise. You looked down at the ring, numb with confusion, heart still racing in your chest as he stepped back, satisfied.

With a flourish, he turned, his shadow retreating down the hallway as he melted into the dark, leaving you bound to the kitchen chair, paralyzed by fear and confusion. The plastic ring on your finger gleamed in the dim light, a silent reminder of the terror that had just brushed so close to you, a warning, a promise. That your his.