#qrow reader insert

It was hard to walk in a straight line, but not for the reasons most people would be led to believe when you’d later recall the memory. Your body felt heavy and your limbs hard to move as you walked out of the bar. It was glowing in the darkened evening, bustling with activities that only grew quieter as you put distance between it and yourself.

It was hard to walk straight, but it wasn’t due to a single drop of alcohol--well, none that you consumed, at least. No, there was a man hanging off your body, limbs gentle but firm in how they wrapped around you, his face pressed to your shoulder as he walked with a just-off gait to give away his drunkenness.

“Dunno why you don’t have a lil’ drink,” the man, Qrow, said with an amused slur to his words. “It ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“You drink for the two of us,” you said in a quick response, a smile already on your face from spending the last several hours with him.

You gently adjust the man so his elbow isn’t digging into your side, but it’s rather impossible to completely detach him--you’ve long since learned not to attempt. Qrow was always rather clingy when he got a bit drunk (at least when he was around you).

“If I got drunk, who would be able to get you home?”

You felt the man’s face nuzzle against your shoulder again as he seemed to mull over the reasoning, finally letting out a soft noise of annoyance.

“I’d figure somethin’ out,” The man drawls, body leaning heavily against your own. “Shouldn’t be relyin’ on y’like this anyway.”

Maybe it was how he said it, or maybe it was the sudden shift in the air between the two of you--or maybe even the way you felt one of his hands tighten around the material of your short in a fleeting moment of vulnerability. It passed quickly enough, though the concern lingered on in your mind as you opened your mouth to ask,

“What do you mean by that?”

“Babe. Sweetheart. Darling,” You stopped walking as Qrow’s overly-sweet petnames felt too heavy in the air between you. “You remember I’m a walkin’ bad luck charm here right? Surprised y’only dropped one glass tonight.”

“It was a little accident.”

“It was my friggin’ semblance bein’ like it always is.”

It’s hard not to feel worried over the hardness of his tone--a man who’s had many years to accept the fact that bad things just happened around him....and those he loved.

He didn’t give you any time to respond. You felt his arms cling tighter around you, his body close and his face almost pressed into the crook of your neck.

“Why are ‘ya even around me? M’gonna get you hurt. Don’t deserve ‘ya...”

His voice fell into a soft mutter as his lips pressed to your neck, his drunken stupor having rubbed away most of the walls the man so often kept up.

Your arms naturally fell around him, holding him tight against you as your bodies started to rock gently, back and forth. The motion seemed soothing, as Qrow didn’t continue with his mumbling and simply enjoyed the moment.

“You’re gonna have to do more than get drunk and have an emotional crisis to get rid of me,” You promised him. “I’m here for you, Qrow, no matter what.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating something before he let out a sigh against your skin.

“No matter what?”

You rolled your eyes and moved one hand up to his head, gently stroking through his dark locks.

“No matter what,” came your gentle, reassuring echo.