#i'm so gay for taiyang yall dont even know

[meek-minded-masochist]

So, for that prompt-thing, if you’re game for this, then I’ll raise you an interesting proposition: If I can get some Taiqrow with the prompt “Breathtaking”, you can totes throw a prompt back at me and I’ll write you a Taiqrow drabble in return. (I miss reading my boys… and writing my boys. Just. My boys.)

Qrow for most of his life had been of the firm belief that love was an exaggeration. It was one desperate or lonely party projecting needs and wants onto another, offering up empty or pointless compliments and promising things that would never come to pass. Mostly, he considered love to simply be the act of choosing to stay with someone despite all of the things you disliked about them, and most of the time, he stuck by that belief. But then, there were moments when maybe… Maybe Qrow wasn’t so sure anymore. They came at times like these, snuggled up in the warmth of Tai’s bed as he lie awake just to watch the other sleep. The morning sun was breaking through the curtains and spilling over the bed sheets to gently illuminate the blond’s face. It shone through the little sprigs of misplaced hair that curled so perfectly around his face and gave him an almost ethereal glow. He looked angelic, blissful. Qrow sat so still, so quiet for a long while, watching the measured rise and fall of Tai’s chest; it inspired a calmness in him that he had not known in so long. It almost made his chest ache with the force of just how much he loved this man.

There were other moments, too, that had brought on this feeling. They were never truly important moments, only little fleeting pieces of domesticity. Qrow smiled a little to himself as he conjured a memory of lingering in the kitchen doorway to watch Tai, his hands covered in flour as he kneaded out dough. He had had such a look of adoration on his face. He was proud of his prowess in the kitchen and more than happy to provide for those he cared for. That man poured love into everything he did, but especially the things he would do for his family. At the thought of family, the brunet’s mind wanders contentedly to another moment in which Tai had made his heart falter, tentatively fingering a stray curl of hair. He had just returned home for the first time in a few weeks when he’d spotted them in the front yard. He had perched on a branch to watch the two of them spar, a father teaching his daughter. Tai was firm in his way of teaching, but he was never unkind, never angry. Somehow, he found a way to be gentle yet earnest, even in regards to something as often cruel as combat. He had found a way to use his fists to teach, to create.

Qrow carefully let his fingers trail down over the other’s shoulder, ghosting gingerly over the curve of his bicep, thumb lingering to sweep lovingly over his tattoo. His gentle exploration moved his touch lower over the soft skin of his partner’s wrist to brush his fingertips over the blond’s calloused, strong palm. It brings memories, first, of watching Tai brush potting soil from his hands, seeing him carefully and delicately tend to the proud, charming sunflowers he keeps. His hands, when they don’t smell of kitchen herbs, often carry with them the scent of freshly broken earth, sun-kissed sweat, and flowers. Contrary to his gentle touch for plants, Tai’s hands were also incredibly strong, and it’s this fact that brings to mind more intimate memories. The lingering sensation of firm grips and confident touches makes Qrow’s skin prickle, sends a small shiver up his back. The times when Tai is comfortable enough to not be gentle, when his hands, rough and dizzyingly powerful, find their way pointedly to the bird’s neck to squeeze until the mantra of his name is raw and strained, carried on choked breath. He bites his lip lightly as he slides his fingers into the spaces between each of Tai’s. The hand under his twitches slightly under his touch, fingers curling up to reciprocate the gesture as Qrow looks up at the other’s face again. Those sleepy blue eyes are open now, trained on him and so full of love that it makes his chest tighten.

“G’mornin’…” Tai’s voice is tired and slurred and still rumbly from sleep.

Qrow decides that maybe sometimes love was painful, cruel, and short-lived. Maybe sometimes it was just mediocre, just people wishing they weren’t lonely. Sometimes love was just a thing you said to a someone when anyone else would have been just as good. But he decides that sometimes… Sometimes love was breathtaking.