silent conversations
Summary: When Joker looks at you, he sees nothing but beauty. With his own worn and torn hands does he reach out and gently cradle your insecurities, letting you know with his naturally interwoven gentle nature that there's not onefire he would rather have in his heart than the one you so naturally planted inside of the folds of his being simply by being you.
A/N: For my darling . Partially for her birthday, partially because she requested it weeks ago. I'm so sorry it took me so long, love! I hope this can offer you even the smallest bits of comfort. You deserve the entire world and I hope today is as amazing as you deserve it to be!
Length: 3,081
Joker never questioned the love that you shared with him-it quite literally demanded to be felt. Most of the time.
"Erika?"
Surprisingly enough, nervousness wasn't something that Joker was alien to within these days that he was known as the Clown Prince of Crime; or at least, not as nearly as much as one would have thought. Cold and calculating though he could be around those he didn't trust, underneath that layer of freezing ice that had formed from the cruelty of his days did he have a softness to his core that was sweeter than even the most tender and raw lavender.
He buried his trembling fingers in his violent red pockets, thumbing his own fingers as he fought the sweat of fear that was overcoming him as he looked at you sitting on the couch across from him. Fuck, how he hated fear.
Fear had been the very thing that had caused him to run away from his problems for as long as he had. Fear had been the very thing that had caused him to fall into the person that he was now, a person that he wasn't proud of in the slightest, but also a person that protected him from the cruelty of the world. But not only did the persona of the seemingly murderous figure protect his more damaged and softer side that was, essentially, the core of who he was; you did as well.
You, his Erika, the one person who had seen him since that the moment that you had made eye contact with him all those years ago, and who only continued to love him all the deeper through all the time you spent together. Love wasn't quite able to do justice what you had done for him throughout all the time that you had spent with him. You had quite literally seen every single crevice of his being through every single dark of his days, both light and good, and you had never failed to love him in every single nook and cranny that you had seen within his soul of the pain and beauty that he was made of. To understand, to see, to know him was something that you were an expert at, and he was all too happy to take in every way that you did.
With a gentle fingers had you gently reached in and found the thread that he was made of, the one that gently cradled his broken and bleeding heart, and tenderly had you used that thread to kiss up the patches inside of his heart, rather than to leave the thread to continue to squeeze pain inside his body such as the thread had previously, which had been woven too tightly, too thickly, before your touches had found them. It had only been suffocating him. You had eased up his rib cage and had dared to reach your own loving hands into it, caressing away all the pain that was inside of him, both mentally and physically, which had been thrust upon him since he had been a young boy. Every single day did he shut his eyes close and take a sharp breath as he fell into the depth of the love you shared with one another, which was so deep that not even he could quite comprehend it, nor did he ever want to. Some things were too rich to comprehend, and he never truly needed to. His heart understood that which his mind did not, and that was more than enough for him. The fact that he had been able to feelit the inside of him was more than he ever needed. Souls often knew wisdom before minds did; souls knew what the body needed before the more logical part of a person's being did.
