just thinking about jason todd's hands.
big, big hands that dwarf your own. makes yours look like a baby's. his long, slender fingers that brush the hair away from your face, tucks the stubborn strands behind your ears, pinches your cheeks almost as gently as they curl inside you.
big thumbs that brush at your bottom lip, eliciting a sharp inhale or a hitch in breath from you. thumbs that wipe the tears from your cheeks or press softly against your eyelids after a long, tiring day.
huge, huge hands that cradle and squish your face, always making you giggle and smile like you've been offered the sun. hands that cradle the back of your head when sadness weighs heavy on your soul, holding you impossibly close, letting you know that he's here. forever will be if you let him.
hands that have to touch, touch, touch you.
hands that find you in darkness. in crowds. through tears and nightmares.
jason's hands are calloused and rough from years of fights. from years of finding his way through the dirt life has thrown at him. his knuckles are always bruised and cut. covered in blood sometimes. his touch can never be soft. no. it cannot be comfortable. it cannot feel like feathers touching your skin.
and yet.
yet when he touches you, you sigh in such contentment. with such a blissful smile on your face that jason is forced to believe otherwise.
and you? god you're weak for him. so, so weak. for him and his big, calloused hands. for him and his half smiles. for him and his unexpected gentleness.
jason todd might not believe he's capable of softness, but you saw it in his heart long before it ever made to the surface.
you love him for all the softness he doesn't realise he gives. hoping you can help make it's way back to him.
