⎯⎯ 🍏 ꯭ 𖥟ㅤ{ Harlequin's Birthday }，▌ℴ ꪆ '
＼／⠀𓏧 Harlequin x Reader fem . ⎯ ͜͝🐍
#birthday fluff + #playful banter
You looked into the mirror one last time while finishing adjusting your clothes. You chose something comfortable yet stylish: oversized, loose-fitting pants that flowed effortlessly and a basic white t-shirt—the perfect canvas to make that heart necklace you loved so much stand out. You had insisted so much (practically forcing him to agree) that you still found it hard to believe you were finally going out with Harlequin today.
But the effort was worth it. You knew it was his birthday and you had an important mission: you wanted to make it a special day. With your hair looking flawless, your best outfit ready, and butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you threw your bag over your shoulder, making sure the present was in its place. You stepped out of the apartment with a firm, confident stride. The anticipation of the meeting guided your every move.
Your steps were calm, even though your mind was racing at a thousand miles per hour, running through a million thoughts at once. When you finally arrived at the circus, you froze for a second: there was Harlequin, but he was wearing a completely different outfit. He wore casual clothes, something so mundane that it completely caught you off guard; you were way too used to always seeing him in the costume he wore to perform in the ring. You shook your head quickly to dispel the shock and hide your thoughts before he noticed.
You approached him with a steady pace. As soon as he saw you, a cat-like grin spread across his face and he reached out a hand to gently pat your head.
— Hey~, did you miss me that much, dear?— he teased, leaning down a bit to match your height. He planted a quick kiss on your cheek and straightened up again, but your slight look of disappointment didn't escape him. —Oh? Were you expecting a kiss on the lips, darling? Aww, how cute.
The raven-haired boy let out a soft chuckle. It was then that his eyes scanned your silhouette, noticing the effort you had put into your outfit.
—I see you have a new style...— he commented, arching an eyebrow with amusement. — You're always wearing your uniform or those silly pajamas.
— Harlequin! Ugh, you are so annoying sometimes — you complained, crossing your arms and looking away with a pout, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. — Anyway... are you ready for our outing?
Harlequin chuckled again, clearly enjoying the little tantrum he had provoked. He leaned forward a bit, resting his hands on his knees to look straight into your eyes, forcing you to look at him despite your indignant posture.
— Ready? Dear, I'm the one who should be asking that. You were the one who insisted so much, or are you already regretting it? — he provoked, reaching out a finger to gently poke your cheek.
Determined not to let his ego trample over you, you uncrossed your arms and took a step forward, closing the distance. Even though you had to tilt your head up to hold his gaze due to the clear height difference, you locked eyes with him, wearing a mischievous smile.
— Not at all. In fact, I have everything perfectly planned — you said, reaching out a hand to fix the collar of his casual t-shirt with total naturalness, a spontaneous gesture that made him raise an eyebrow in clear surprise. — But since you're so untrusting, let's play a game. Close your eyes.
— Close my eyes? —Harlequin let out a genuine, deep, and vibrant laugh as he straightened his back completely. He gained those several inches over you again, forcing you to tilt your head back to hold his gaze as he looked down at you with a spark of malice. — I won't do that, dear. Why don't you close yours instead… it would be much more interesting, mhm?~
He leaned slightly toward you as he uttered that last syllable, invading your personal space with that shameless confidence that characterized him. You felt the heat rush up your neck, flushing your cheeks completely until you turned as red as a tomato. Noticing the power his flirting had over you, Harlequin widened his smug grin, internally enjoying how easily he had disarmed you.
You glared at him, indignant at having fallen into his verbal trap. As soon as he caught your narrowed eyes and pressed lips, he let out a soft laugh and looked up at the sky, playing oblivious in the most exaggerated way possible, as if he had never broken a plate in his life.
—Alright, alright, calm down~ — he said in a singsong tone, softening his posture but without losing the amusement on his face. — We better head to that place you kept insisting on.
Before you could reply, you felt the warmth of his hand rest firmly on your waist. The direct contact sent a slight shiver down your spine. With a fluid, dominant movement, he spun you half a turn around so that you both were facing the busy streets. His body was right behind yours, letting you feel the height difference and the warmth radiating from him.
— I hope it's fun, especially after how much you begged me these past few days to be free today — he murmured near your ear with blind confidence. — But I don't blame you… I know perfectly well that you love my presence, minha flor~
You rolled your eyes at his colossal ego, but you couldn't prevent an involuntary smile from creeping onto your lips.
— In your dreams, high and mighty — you shot back, though you made no attempt to remove his hand from your waist. On the contrary, you took advantage of the closeness. — But if you really want it to be fun, you're going to have to play along. I won't blindfold you, but keep walking and don't look at the street signs.
You started moving forward together. Walking beside Harlequin in his casual form was a strange but intoxicating experience; the people passing by had no idea of the madness hidden behind that raven gaze. To carry out your plan to trick him, you guided him through a ridiculously long route. You made him cross a couple of extra streets, walk around a residential block, and circle a plaza, stopping abruptly to pretend you were lost, just to listen to his dramatic complaints.
— Dear, I swear that if you're walking me around just to make me wear out the soles of my shoes, my revenge will be terrible — he warned with a chuckle, tightening his grip on your waist just a bit to quicken your pace.
— No, it's not! It's this way, impatient boy — you lied shamelessly, holding back your laughter as you saw him glance at the storefronts out of the corner of his eye, trying to guess the destination.
Finally, after a few minutes of pure deception and strategic walking, the air of the neighborhood began to change. The scent of asphalt was replaced by a pungent, delicious, and warm aroma: seasoned meat on the grill, fresh cilantro, refried beans, and the unmistakable touch of chili.
You stopped right in front of the facade of a colorful Mexican restaurant, adorned with warm lights and garlands that gave it a highly lively and cheerful atmosphere. You gently pulled away from his grip to stand in front of him, looking at him from head to toe with crossed arms and a smile of absolute triumph.
— We're here — you announced proudly.
Harlequin looked up at the neon sign of the place and then brought his dark eyes back to you, arching both eyebrows. The surprise on his face lasted only a second before transforming into an expression of genuine, brilliant amusement.
— Mexican food?— he asked, crossing his arms, mimicking your pose, but with a smile that betrayed that he found the trick fantastic. — Well... so that whole labyrinth you made me walk through was just to bring me to eat spicy food, huh?
— A touch of spice for my spicy company — you replied with a playful wink. You took a step forward and, this time, you were the one who took his arm with total confidence to drag him toward the entrance. — Come on, let's go, it's my treat today.
— Aww, your treat? Well, dear... I happen to have brought no money today, so thank you~ — he laughed with that typical lightness of his, letting himself be dragged into the establishment.
The place welcomed them with a cozy bustle, northern Mexican music playing softly in the background, and the hypnotic aroma of freshly made tortillas. A waiter quickly guided them to a secluded wooden table, ideal for a bit of privacy. As soon as they sat down, Harlequin took the laminated menu and immersed himself in it immediately, completely ignoring the rest of the room.
You leaned back against the backrest of your chair, resting your chin on your hand to watch him. You couldn't help but feel a spark of tenderness ignite in your chest: his eyes were fixed on the card, scanning the options with a glow of genuine fascination, and he subtly bit his lower lip as he processed the names of the dishes. He looked like a little boy in a toy store. It was a completely unprecedented side of him to you; you were so used to his sarcastic remarks, flirting, and his airs of grandeur, but seeing him so excited about food seemed like the most adorable thing in the world.
— God... I don't know what to choose. Everything sounds so damn delicious! Ahh…— he complained in a frustrated whisper, running a hand through his raven hair without looking away from the prices and descriptions of the tacos.
A soft chuckle escaped your lips, catching his attention.
— What are you laughing at, dear? — he asked, lowering the menu a bit to look at you out of the corner of his eye, narrowing his eyes with a mock indignation that only made it funnier.
— Nothing, nothing — you replied, waving a hand in the air to brush it off, though your smile gave you away. — It's just... I didn't think you'd take the choice so seriously. I knew you loved spicy food, but you're having an existential crisis over a menu.
— It's a matter of life and death, darling — he replied with total dramatic seriousness, though a spark of amusement danced in his dark eyes. — If I'm going to let you spend your savings on me, I have to make sure I order the best. Let's see... what do you recommend? Surprise me.
You leaned forward over the table, shortening the distance between the two of you to point to one of the sections of the menu. Harlequin moved a bit, adjusting himself to sit closer to you, allowing you to feel the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with the atmosphere of the place.
— Look, these tacos al pastor with chile de árbol salsa are to die for — you suggested, brushing your finger over the paper. — And if you really handle spice as much as you say, we can order a portion of enchiladas de mole poblano to share. But watch out, they say that sauce makes the bravest cry.
Harlequin arched an eyebrow, and that classic challenging, haughty smile you knew so well returned to his lips. The "little boy" was gone in a second, replaced by the usual provocador.
— Make me cry? Dear, you're talking to me. Spice runs through my veins — he challenged, slamming the menu shut on the table and leaning toward you with a look full of mischief. — Let's order those enchiladas then. Let's see which of us ends up begging for a glass of water first~
— Not a chance, spice doesn't scare me — you shot back, holding his gaze with the same intensity. — Deal. Let's order the enchiladas.
Harlequin widened his cat-like smile and feigned getting up from his chair, placing his palms on the table with that overflowing energy that characterized him.
— Perfect. I'm going to order before you regret it, dear.
— No, stop! — you checked him instantly, reaching out a hand to gently push his chest and force him to sit back down. He blinked, a bit bewildered by your speed. — My treat, my order. Remember? Stay here and watch the table. I don't want you using your charms to get us overcharged or ending up causing a scene at the counter.
Harlequin let out a clean laugh, raising his hands in surrender as he leaned back comfortably against the backrest of the chair, crossing one leg over the other in total relaxation.
— Alright, alright... Look how protective you got all of a sudden, dear. Fine, I'll leave the dirty work to you. Don't be long~ — he rushed you with a singsong wink, resting his chin on one hand as he watched you walk away.
You turned around and walked quickly toward the counter, feeling nervousness build up in your stomach. This was your perfect opportunity. When you reached the counter, the cashier greeted you with a warm smile behind a row of colorful sugar skulls.
— Hi, good afternoon. I'd like to order the tacos al pastor with chile de árbol salsa and the portion of enchiladas de mole — you said, lowering your voice conspiratorially. You pulled your wallet out of your bag, but before paying, you leaned in a bit closer. — And... excuse me, one question. Do you have any slices of cake available? It's my boyfriend's birthday today and I wanted to give him a surprise.
The cashier's eyes lit up with enthusiasm, immediately catching onto your complicity.
— Yes, of course! We have a delicious tres leches cake. If you want, we can put a candle on it — she proposed in an equally accomplice whisper. — And if you give me five minutes, I'll let the kitchen staff know so they can come out with the sombreros and sing Las Mañanitas with all their energy.
— Yes, please! That would be perfect — you replied, holding back the urge to jump with excitement.
You paid the full bill, including the tip and the extra for the cake, feeling your heart beating at a thousand miles per hour. The plan was in motion. Harlequin was going to die of embarrassment or laughter, but he would definitely never forget this birthday.
You returned to the table walking slowly, trying to put on the most innocent and relaxed face in the world. You adjusted your heart necklace and sat across from him, giving him a peaceful, almost angelic smile.
Harlequin, who had been following you with his raven gaze since you stepped into the aisle back, narrowed his eyes immediately. A sly and highly suspicious smile drew on his lips as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wood to subtly invade your space.
— Let's see, dear... I know you far too well — he murmured in a drawn-out, amused tone, scanning every feature of your face. — You took longer than necessary to order a couple of tacos and you came back with a smile that's way too clean. What did you do? You surely plotted something mischievous behind my back, mhm?~
— Me? Mischievous? Not at all, I don't know what you're talking about — you replied, holding his gaze with the best poker face you could muster, though the twinkling gleam in your eyes betrayed you completely. — I just made sure the food comes with the right amount of spice. You should trust me more, birthday boy.
Harlequin let out an amused huff, crossing his arms without taking his dark eyes off you, completely convinced you were hiding something.
— You lie beautifully, darling, but not well enough. That little saint smile doesn't suit you at all — he commented in his typical singsong voice, arching an eyebrow. — But fine, we'll play it your way. I'll wait to see what...
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Suddenly, the lights in the section where they were sitting dimmed slightly, and the swinging doors of the kitchen burst open with a joyful clatter. Four restaurant employees marched out in a single file, wearing huge mariachi sombreros and shaking maracas with overflowing enthusiasm. The leader of the procession held a plate in his hands with a generous slice of tres leches cake, topped with a candle that sparked brightly, illuminating everything in its path.
— And let's hear a loud applause for the birthday boy! — one of the waiters exclaimed, unleashing the chorus at the top of their lungs with the classic rhythm of — Estas son las mañanitas…
Harlequin's transformation was immediate and absolutely glorious.
All the haughty composure, the air of superiority, and the shameless confidence he always carried vanished in a millisecond. His dark eyes widened completely, utterly thrown off by the noise, the maracas, and the gazes of the diners at the neighboring tables, who began to clap to the rhythm of the music.
For the first time since you knew him, you saw an intense, violent blush crawl up his neck until it dyed his cheeks and the tips of his ears a bright crimson red. He tried to sink into his chair, shrinking his shoulders as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, but his notable height made the attempt completely futile.
You rested your elbows on the table, cradling your chin in your hands while offering him a huge, bright, and shamelessly mocking smile, enjoying every second of your absolute victory.
— Happy birthday, Harle! — you told him, raising your voice over the waiters' singing, giving him a wink.
Harlequin looked away from the employees and locked a gaze on you full of completely fake anger, though his eyes promised a terrible revenge. His teeth were clenched to contain the embarrassment, and the contrast between his sour face and the huge Mexican sombrero one of the waiters had just carefully placed on his head was the most hilarious thing in the world.
— You…— he muttered between his teeth, glaring at you out of the corner of his eye while the crimson on his cheeks only intensified from the applause. — You are wicked, dear. I swear you're going to pay for this...
— Blow out the candle, boss! — the waiter with the maracas shouted, interrupting his threat and making you crack up with laughter.
Harlequin glared at you one last time, but seeing how genuinely happy you were and how much fun you were having at his expense, the stiffness of his jaw gave way. He let out a resigned sigh, completely defeated by your surprise. He leaned toward the cake with an adorable pout and blew out the candle in one single shot. The employees celebrated with one last rattle of maracas, and it was at that exact moment that the waiter leading the celebration pulled an instant camera out of his apron pocket.
— That's it! Don't move, this photo goes into the house memory book — the man announced with a giant smile, adjusting the lens.
Before Harlequin could react or take the massive Mexican sombrero off his head, you decided to crown your masterpiece. You quickly stood up from your seat and walked around the table. One of the waiters, catching your complicity on the fly, handed you one of the colorful maracas with a wink. You caught it in the air and lunged over Harlequin.
You wrapped both arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and pressing your cheek against his to force him into the frame. Harlequin tensed up at the sudden physical contact, but he didn't pull away; his hands instinctively found your sides to hold you due to the height difference, though he maintained his pose of mock indignation.
— Smile! On the count of three! — the waiter called out, lifting the camera.
— Not a chance, dear. I'm going to make my worst face and it will be all your fault — he muttered near your ear, trying to maintain a sour expression, with a furrowed brow and his arms crossed over his chest.
— One... two... three!
Click!
The flash blinked, capturing the exact moment. In the image, which began to slowly reveal itself on the photo paper, the contrast was simply perfect: Harlequin appeared with his cheeks still flushed a furious red, arms crossed, and a completely theatrical look of anger under the brim of the enormous sombrero; beside him was you, hugging him with total confidence, laughing out loud with your eyes crinkled with happiness and holding the maracas high like a victory trophy.
The waiter waved the paper in the air a couple of times and handed it to you with a bow. The employees finally retreated to the kitchen laughing, leaving the plate of tres leches in the center of the table.
You stood beside his chair, looking at the printed photo with a smile of pure pride before fanning it in front of Harlequin's eyes.
— Look at you, you came out gorgeous, Harle — you teased, giving him a gentle tap with your finger on the tip of his nose. — This is definitely going straight to my nightstand. It's the best birthday present I could have asked for... for me, of course.
Harlequin reached out his arm and, using his height and reach advantage, snatched the photo from your hands in a blink. He stared at it for a few seconds, observing your frozen laughter on the paper and the gleam in your eyes. Although he let out a huff and rolled his eyes dramatically, he couldn't hide it anymore: the corner of his lips lifted into a genuine, soft, and defeated smile.
— You are incorrigible, my lady — he murmured in his soft, drawn-out voice, catching your wrist gently to pull you slightly, forcing you to stand even closer to him. — But this photo is mine.
Note : Happy birthday to our harlequin! I honestly wanted to write something funny about his birthday. I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it!
