I wanted to explore Qrow's feelings towards Winter in a darker, more adult way, while still attempting to stay true to his personality. If you have any comments or suggestions please leave a review!
Those cold, calculating, frost blue eyes. He had come to know the glare that came with them personally over the years. He could now easily see the gears working inside her head, trying to understand his ploy, call his bluff, and delve into his brain. But he would by no means let her see his true intent.
In the past, Winter Schnee had pissed him off to no end. Their upbringing had been very different and their personalities likewise. Where he was broken, lenient, and quick tempered, she was undamaged, confident, and in utter control of herself. From their first meeting the younger girl had piqued his interest. How is it she manages to stay perfectly calm in the direst of situations? Through trail, and error, Qrow had come to the realization years later that when he had first passed judgment he had been wrong. It wasn't that Winter Schnee was always composed and self-assured, but rather that she was convinced her reputation stood on how she held herself around others. She would play the part of the perfect soldier who never once questioned orders, and yet Qrow could see it was an act. How no one else got tired of her lies and inconsistencies drove him mad. Her supposed innocence peeved him to no end. He had made it his personal vendetta to reveal her true personality. The first time he had witnessed the upset, angry, practically bursting at the seams Winter, was the moment he knew he was a goner. After all, underneath the flashy name and textbook exterior, his suspicions were confirmed. The girl that acted flawless in truth wasn't that different from him. She was broken in her own way, even if she hid it well.
His fixation with bringing out her animalistic side had been tainted over the years. The first few times he had bothered her, it had been simply to remind himself that there were others who felt the same pain and rage as he did. When he witnessed her give in her emotions and turn her rage towards him, it had always brought him a peculiar sort of thrill. Her company began to give him a buzz. Winter turned into an escape that alcohol no longer provided. In the past, he had originally thought his intrigue in the woman was because he finally found someone who also had his temperament. Bearing witness to her wild rages would bring him a satisfaction he could never place, until recently. He now knew for sure, his intentions weren't pure. The thrill her company brought him, and the power he felt in her presence was addicting. He could no longer avoid his craving.
Recently her calculating glares only provoked him. His irritation was always sudden and inexplicable, while his mind was getting more perverse by the month. Seeing her head held high, and the confidence she wielded as a sword, only increased his desire to drive her to the edge of oblivion, and watch as she fell apart due to his touch. His unconscious mind would dream of the moment that she reached ecstasy. In those late night imaginings he would feel pride in being the one who brought her pleasure. He wanted desperately to see her quake in his arms, witness her back arch in bliss, and feel the blood her nails drew from his skin as her hands clawed his back. He greatly wished to see the way her upper body would shudder below him, as her lips screamed his name into the void that was his life.
Now, rather than attracting her disgust he sought after her affection like a drug. Yet after years of isolation, expressing his fondness was… difficult.
She had become his way out. A light in his dull and detached existence that he thought had vanished entirely long ago.
He knew the chance of her seeing him the same way was small. After all, the only look she offered him was one created out of loathing. She saw him as a brainless fool, and he didn't blame her. After years of reckless behavior and poorly initiated jokes, it felt as if he had lost his chance. Whatever opportunity he thought he had with her was fantasy, a black thought to haunt his unconscious nights, much like the fairytales mothers and fathers told their children. The concept of a brighter and better tomorrow was always easier to fall asleep to than reality. Winter Schnee was a lonely man's wish that he would never act upon for fear of being denied.
All he could do was watch, and wait, as the glare she sent his way got fiercer and wilder. He would often curse himself for being unable to break the cycle, but by now it was habit. The blizzard he had lost himself in was too strong for him to break away from now. He was firmly wrapped around her fingers, and anything she wanted from him he would give without question.
Winter was his weakness. Winter was his strength.
Winter Schnee would surely consume him until there was nothing left.