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chisai236 · 3 days ago

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"Your Heart's Desire" - Harlequin

Character(s): Harlequin (The Freak Circus)

Pairing(s): Harlequin x GN Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: You have a stressful day at work that breaks into a panic attack. You rush home after to try and calm down, only to find out someone you hadn't invited was already there waiting for you...

Work was… once again work. You might think that working at a coffee shop would be a relatively easy sort of job. Just make drinks you already have memorized and take the customers’ money as payment, simple. And yet, there always seemed to be something that happened each day that made you question that relative simplicity. A regular who was an older woman, always one of the first into the shop at opening, had grumpily sent back her oat milk latte for tasting “too much like milk.” Insisting you must have made it wrong and being condescending all the while staring at you pointedly as you remade it.

And then, there was the rat. A big, brazen one, which decided to skitter across the floor at your feet just as you were pouring a latte art of a heart into the remade coffee. Seeing it made you shriek in fear, drop the froth pitcher of milk, and douse yourself in it as it fell and clattered to the floor loudly. Scaring the rat, which tore through an open cabinet to escape, caused a huge mess. A bag of coffee beans stored there spilled onto the floor. You didn’t know what to do, you froze entirely. And to make matters, somehow, worse the older woman immediately started into complaining about your inability to do your job, while you were wincing in pain from a surface burn and unsure what you should do now between that, the spilled milk, the beans on the floor, the drink that needed to be remade, and the rat that you knew was somewhere in the shop now.

Of course this all had to happen when you were one of the only employees working now, what with Carol’s position still being open and unfilled…

Your nerves were already shot from a week of late shifts and city life’s constant haste. So this was not doing you any favors at all. By the time you locked the coffee shop door, the sunset painting the brick buildings in spooky orange, that familiar tightness had started coiling in your chest. The walk home usually helped you decompress, but tonight, every shadow felt heavier, every distant siren drilled into your skull. The rat incident replayed on a loop, joined by the older lady’s sneer and the sticky oat milk on your jeans. Your breath started catching, like a frantic butterfly stuck in your throat, beating as fast as your poor heart. You wanted to cry, but you held it in, bottling what was already close to exploding for the sake of not causing a scene out in public.

You fumbled with your apartment keys when you finally made it home, hands shaking so bad with pent up stress and emotion you nearly dropped them. Your small, cramped space usually felt safe, but tonight it just felt like a cage. You shoved the door open. The air was thick, your own frantic heart thudding in your ears. You kicked off your shoes, tossed your bag onto a worn table by the door, and automatically reached for the light switch.

Just as your fingers brushed the cool plastic, a voice, low and laced with infuriating amusement, purred from the darkness.

“Rough day, my dear?”

You shrieked, a high-pitched, totally undignified sound. Your hands flew up, one clutching your chest, causing your hand to dig into the green heart pinned there with the force, while your other hand slapped uselessly at the air. That frantic butterfly in your chest? It just escalated to a full-blown flock of panicked vultures. It felt like your nerves were screaming.

The chuckle that followed your dramatic reaction clued you into who it was.

“Harlequin! What the–? What are you doing in my apartment! How did you even get in?” Your voice was already climbing, ragged with fright and a new, sharp panic.

A figure stepped out of the deeper shadows by your window, a splash of green and black motley decorated with golds, the familiar heart motifs stark even in the dim light. He moved with the inhuman grace of a ghost, perfectly at ease, like he owned the place and didn’t feel the slightest bit unwelcome.

“Oh, the usual methods.” He purred, completely unconcerned by your near cardiac arrest. “A dash of charm, a hint of persuasion, and a significant instance of disappointment in a flimsy lock. You should bring that up to your landlord, by the way. Wouldn’t want some unsavory intruder getting in.”

He chuckled, a soft, bubbling sound that usually made you smile in spite, or at the very least playfully pout, but tonight, every sound grated. Every unplanned incident adding to the mountain of stress, mercilessly crushing you in your own mind and body. The air in the room felt impossibly thin in your constricting lungs, your chest was tightening further, a vise clamped around your ribs. Your vision blurred around the edges, Harlequin’s colors bleeding into the encroaching darkness.

“You–! you broke in!” You gasped, your voice reedy. The rat, the old lady, the mess, the blaring sirens, Harlequin’s uninvited presence when you hadn’t expected it, it all slammed into you.

Harlequin, meanwhile, was entirely oblivious to the spiraling chaos inside you. He took a step closer, gloved hands clasped loosely behind his back. “Such a dramatic assessment. I merely… facilitated my entry.” The green of his eyes rolled in the black pools surrounding them. “You seemed rather distressed on your walk home, I thought you might be grateful to have someone come to check on you? I know you do so love witty banter.” He paused, his smile seeming to shine knowingly. “Was I wrong? Oh silly me…”

He grin stretched further somehow. It was that smug self-satisfied look he often wore, had you been less terrified, it might have made you smile, or prompt you to give a witty retort like usual. But all you could register was the complete lack of concern. Couldn’t he see that something was very wrong with you?

“I… I can't… Harlequin… Not right now.” You pressed the hand on your chest in tighter, feeling the frantic thunder of your heart. It was too much, it ached. The panic attack, the storm that had been brewing in the background all day, was whipping up into a hurricane in your body, wreaking devastation, and there was no stopping it now. Your breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The room began to spin.

Harlequin tilted his head, his toothy smile faltering slightly, replaced by a look of mild confusion. “Are you alright, my dear? You're quite red. And… have been making peculiar noises.”

You choked, a desperate, shuddering intake of breath doing nothing. “I'm having a… a panic attack!” The words were forced out between gasps, sharp and desperate.

A beat of silence. Harlequin blinked. His suave, unshakeable facade wavered, just for a flicker. He clearly had absolutely no idea what to do.

“A… panic attack?” He repeated slowly, as if learning an entirely new concept. He took another step closer, his brow furrowed in something akin to bewilderment. “Well. Don't do that then.”

Tears blurred your vision, half from terror of what was happening to you, half from frustration over how useless he was. “Don't... don't do that?” you choked, voice wavering. “Harlequin, I can't breathe!”

Harlequin dipped his head, leaning in closer, his intense peridot gaze cutting right through your panic. “Hmm,” a low hum rumbled in his chest, “Breathing, my dear, is pretty essential. Perhaps... more of it? Deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth, and all that.” He showed you with an exaggerated, easy inhale and exhale, totally unfazed by your distress.

Yeah, no. It offered zero comfort. Not one single breath eased the crushing weight on your chest, the spinning vortex in your vision, or the prickling numbness in your limbs. You were just too far gone, your mind a swirling mess of forgotten fears and screw-ups, every mistake from forever ago slamming into you at once. And then it hit you, cold and clear: Harlequin, with his infuriating calm, might be the last face you saw before you suffocated, choked by this random, unbidden terror.

“I... I can't...!” A ragged gasp tore from your throat, “Can't breathe, can't think—! Can't...” you sobbed, hot tears streaming down your dusty red cheeks.

Harlequin, seeing his perfectly logical advice totally flop, showed a flicker of something unfamiliar, a rare confusion, across his sharp features. He lifted a long, gloved finger, tapping thoughtfully against his chin, his composure still solid. “Right. So that isn't working... not enough. Maybe... a change of focus?” His head tilted. “Hmm, what would help pull you back to me?” His finger kept up its soft, absent rhythm.

You could only shake your head, a quiet no, air catching rough in your throat. Talking was just beyond you at this point.

Your gaze was blurry, distant, lost in the swirling chaos. Then, a touch. The cool, silky brush of his gloved fingers, feather-light against your tear-streaked cheek. Your eyes, glazed with panic, snapped upward, catching on the green brilliance of his.

“Shhhh...” A soft, resonant purr vibrated from his lips, a thrilling sound that seemed to chase away the noise in your mind, unflinchingly calm amidst your storm. “Look at me, my dearest,” he murmured, his smile a gentle, knowing curve as your gaze, though a struggle, centered on his. “Good.”

His hand, with easy grace, turned, no longer just wiping tears but cupping your face, his long, elegant fingers, tipped with those striking claws, spreading out delicately along your jawline and the tender curve of your neck. A tremor, totally distinct from fear, shot through you, a jolt that stole your breath for an entirely new, electrifying reason.

“Now, let’s try again. Breathe with me now, love, a slow, deep breath, just as I do.” His free hand lifted, thumb and forefinger subtly nudging your chin, making sure you were looking only at him. His pale, exquisite face filled your entire world, and whatever tattered bit of focus you had left in you managed to latch onto his words with an almost desperate obedience, as though his presence had cast a spell.

Despite the anchoring force of his gaze, the breath you tried to draw seized, burning in your lungs, erupting in a violent, rattling cough. Yet, he held you steady, his grip unwavering even as a low, almost animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, a sound not of anger, but of deep frustration. This was a challenge he hadn't expected, a vulnerability he wasn't used to facing, and a situation beyond his usual, easy command.

He leaned closer still, his presence enveloping you, like a shield against the storm, though there was always that undercurrent of danger. “Listen to me,” he breathed, his voice a low, gravelly murmur devoid of all his customary playful mirth that cut right through the haze of your fear. “My heart,” he whispered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, “I promise you anything. Tell me how to make this go away.” His peridot eyes, wide and luminous, were fixed on yours, a mesmerizing, flickering green flame, pulling you deeper into their radiant depths until they were the only truth left in the world.

His words, simple as they were, combined with that low, desperate tone, hit you like a punch. The heat in your face went from an exhausted heat to an embarrassing flush. The sudden closeness, his hands on your face, the total lack of his usual indifferent flippancy… It all snapped something into place. A realization that stunned you into a whole other emotion apart from the fear and overwhelming anxiety you were feeling just moments ago.

The chaotic thrumming in your chest faltered, then began a slow descent. Your blurred vision sharpened, focusing on the firm and focused intensity in his eyes.

My heart… I promise you anything…

The words lingered in the air, weighed and suggestive. Somehow, it was utterly and absurdly distracting. Just moments ago, your mind had been convinced you were suffocating, but now it latched onto this unexpected, wildly out-of-place development. It sounded almost like a risqué joke or an intimate promise. Completely inappropriate for the moment, and yet...

The tightness in your chest began to melt away. Your breaths, once ragged and broken, grew steadier. The frantic storm of thoughts in your head quieted, replaced by one startling realization: he sounded... incredibly alluring. To your own shock, you found comfort in his close, sincere declaration. Without even realizing it, he had managed to chase away your panic with nothing more than a softly spoken, deeply personal promise.

You blinked, dazed. The terror was gone, the embarrassing flush inching up your neck flashing full force across your face.

Harlequin watched your eyes widen, your breathing even out, color returning to your face so strongly it seemed to swing into the other direction of having too much color. Your face now decorated with a blush instead of a pallor. He tilted his head, a slow, predatory smile spreading as realization dawned. His green eyes glinted with a trickster’s mischief.

Oh no.

“Well, well!” He sighed with contentment and glee dripping from every word. He took his hands from your face, but you found the sensation of them lingered. “Looks like I have a hidden talent for calming people down! And here I thought it took silly breathing exercises.” He grinned sideways in a way that suggested he was joking, but you were too out of it to even acknowledge it.

Harlequin straightened to his full height, his usual suave self back once more, his ego clearly fluffed by his unexpected win. He winked to you, a flash of unsettling charm only Harlequin could make look so appealing. “I think I see what happened just then. It seems you just needed someone to promise you the moon! Give you whatever your little heart desires...” His grin could only be described as devilish while he reached up with a claw to tap the little green heart pin secured to your shirt.

It was only then you realized your hand had dropped from your chest, both arms hung limply at your sides as you stared up at him dumbfounded and awestricken. You'd been suffocating only moments ago, genuinely thinking you were about to collapse, and he'd accidentally seduced you out of a panic attack. It was absurd, and yet you felt warm all the same.

“You… you just… how did you…?” You trailed off, your voice still shaky, but much clearer.

Harlequin laughed at your confusion, a rich, dark sound that filled the space of your apartment. He threw his head back, his motley shimmering as it fluttered with the shake of his shoulders. It was pure glee, the sound of someone who'd pulled off the most unexpected, delightful prank. And you, still a bit unsteady, felt a strange pull towards him because of it. You might be humorously concerned over his behavior and actions most days, but you were never bored around Harlequin. Which was something.

“Like I said.” He murmured, leaning in until the space between you hummed with charged possibility. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered. “All you needed was for someone to give you whatever your little heart desires.” A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he boldly let his teeth graze your earlobe, a wicked punctuation that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Well then, my heart? Tell me, what do you desire most right now?”

That utterly unraveled you.

With a flustered scramble, you darted away from him, retreating into the kitchenette, flicking the light as you went, as if the brightness could ward off the spell he’d cast. You yanked open a cupboard, hands trembling, and ripped out a glass, barely managing to fill it at the sink. “O-okay! Thank you for… Whatever you did, Harlequin! That was very helpful!” Your voice quivered, torn between gratitude and disbelief. “But don’t you need to head back to the Circus? It’s getting late!”

Harlequin drifted after you, a silhouette of cunning satisfaction, his grin spreading with the confidence of a victorious fox. “Trying to send me off so soon?” He teased. “Mm, but you’re right. I should make my exit, shouldn’t I? After all, I rather like you this way, delightfully undone, flushed and flustered. If I leave now, I can be sure of seeing you unravel all over again next time.”

You took a sip of water that went down heavily. “…Next time?”

“Next time.” There was an assurance in his tone, another promise. Then he turned round on his heel and made for the front door. “I will see you later then, my dear. Don’t forget to alert your landlord of your faulty lock!”

You took deep breaths, staring at the sink as you listened to his footsteps lead to the door, it open, then shut behind him. And like that you were alone again. Completely and utterly bewildered over the events, and somewhat concerned, and excited, over what Harlequin might do ‘next time’.

Author Note: I had so much fun writing this, almost too much fun. It's longer than the Pierrot one, sorry if it ended up being too long, sometimes words get away from me when I write XD

If you like the story, and you're able, please consider sending a tip: ko-fi.com/chisai236/tip

The heart page break used here was made by me, so if you'd like to use it, feel free! 💚

Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading! All the replies I got on the last one made me so happy. Thank you for all your kind comments! Hopefully you like this one too!

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