teen!reader whose like Jinx from Arcane with Dan heng, Boothill, Aventurine, Silverwolf, and Blade.(All separately)
I’d like to think that the characters just stumbled upon reader at some point and just ended up dragging them along with somehow.(Character casually picking them up as if they were some sad wet cat left in the rain)
Bonus points if you give us a Boothill being a girl dad moment btw.
Some Things Just Stick
Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Blade x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Platonic Relationships, Found Family, Stray cat energy (Reader), Protective , Jinx (Arcane) like Reader, Banter & Humor, Hurt/Comfort Elements, Implications Of A Rough Past (Reader), Boothill being an accidental dad.
Warnings: Mild violence (mentions of fights, gunplay, and Blade being, well… Blade), Mentions of past trauma (Reader and characters), Implications of neglect/survival struggles (Reader), Boothill casually threatening someone with a gun (protective dad mode), Explosive tendencies (Reader is a little menace with engineering skills), Blade being emotionally unavailable but still taking care of Reader, Dan Heng internally sighing forever, Lots of sarcasm and playful threats.
A/N: I'm gonna let y’all know this is gonna be OOC because, while I'm writing this, I'm on episode 2 of season 1
[Part 1] | [Part 2]
Dan Heng did not sign up for this.
And by this, he meant the wild-eyed teenager currently sprawled out in the Archives, tinkering with something that absolutely did not belong to them.
"You’re going to break that," Dan Heng said flatly, watching as you poked at a delicate piece of Express technology with a screwdriver you had clearly stolen from the maintenance bay.
"That’s the fun part," you chirped, not even looking up. Your fingers twitched as you adjusted the wiring, blue sparks flying as you laughed, unbothered.
Dan Heng sighed, rubbing his temples. March and the Trailblazer just had to pick up a stray.
You had come aboard the Express by accident—a stowaway found shivering in a cargo bay during a pit stop. Your story had been vague, something about getting "bored" and "wanting an adventure" while heavily implying a past you didn’t want to talk about. March, of course, had immediately decided you were part of the crew now, while the Trailblazer had just shrugged and gone along with it. Dan Heng, however, was still questioning how exactly you had attached yourself to him.
At first, you had been like an untamed animal, skittish and unpredictable, yet stubbornly following him around the Express. Over time, though, you started listening when he told you not to mess with the train’s core systems. You learned to recognize his moods—when to push him, when to leave him be. Somehow, without meaning to, Dan Heng had ended up… responsible for you.
He sighed. "At least tell me what you're making."
You grinned up at him. "Boom."
Dan Heng’s blood ran cold. "Boom?"
"Boom!" You gestured to the mess of wires and circuits. "Just a little one. A harmless one. Probably. Maybe."
Dan Heng pinched the bridge of his nose. "No explosives on the Express."
You pouted but set the device down with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto your back. "You’re no fun."
"I am fun," he said, deadpan. "I just don’t enjoy unnecessary explosions in an enclosed space."
You grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "Sooo, if I built something outside…?"
"Still no."
You groaned loudly, throwing an arm over your eyes. Dan Heng looked down at you—this stray cat of a person, chaotic and loud yet strangely endearing. Despite himself, he sighed and handed you a book from the shelf.
"Read this instead," he said. "It’s about engineering. No explosives."
You eyed him suspiciously before taking it. "…You really are trying to make me boring, huh?"
Dan Heng shook his head. "No. Just… less likely to blow yourself up."
Blade was used to blood. To violence. To the kind of suffering that never truly healed.
He was not used to… whatever this was.
"Stop staring at me like that," he muttered.
You didn’t. If anything, you leaned closer, peering up at him with unnerving curiosity. "You do blink, right? Like, I haven’t actually seen it happen, and I’m starting to think maybe you’re part statue—"
Blade exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the hilt of his sword. He should’ve just left you where he found you—half-starved, covered in soot, and scavenging in the ruins of some forgotten world. But something about the way you had laughed despite the wreckage around you had kept him from walking away.
"Why am I still here?" you asked suddenly, rocking back on your heels. "Like, not that I’m complaining, but you seem like the type to leave people behind."
He was that type. Had been, many times. Yet, for some reason, he had not left you.
"You’re useful," he said simply.
You snorted. "That’s a lie, but okay, edgelord."
Blade twitched. "Edgelord?"
You grinned at his reaction. "What, you don’t like nicknames? C’mon, you look like a guy who collects angsty monologues for fun."
Blade inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if summoning patience from the void itself. Maybe he should have left you behind. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he wouldn’t.
There was something about you—something reckless, something broken, something that reminded him of himself. He didn’t know why, but he had picked you up like a stray left out in the cold.
And despite everything, he hadn’t let you go.
Boothill had dealt with a lot of things in his life—gunfights, betrayals, bounty hunters, and enough explosions to last several lifetimes.
He had not, however, ever expected to end up with a kid hanging off his arm like an overgrown possum.
"You do know you can walk, right?" he drawled, glancing down at you as you clung to his mechanical arm, feet dangling in the air.
"Yeah, but this is more fun," you chirped, kicking your legs.
Boothill sighed dramatically but didn’t shake you off. He had found you during a raid on an IPC outpost—scrawny, wild-eyed, covered in soot but grinning like you had just pulled the greatest prank in the universe. You had latched onto him immediately, and for some reason, he had let you.
Now, here you were, an extra shadow at his side, jabbering a mile a minute while he tried to track down an IPC target.
"You ever not talk?" Boothill asked, adjusting his hat.
"Mm… nope."
"Figures."
You hummed, watching as he checked the sights on his revolver. "So, like, if you had a kid, would you be, like, a cool dad or a scary dad?"
Boothill blinked. "What kinda question is that?"
"An important one."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess I’d be both."
You grinned. "Yeah, I can see it. You’ve got ‘cool but terrifying’ vibes. Like, you’d let your kid get away with stuff, but if anyone else messed with them, you’d go full murder mode."
Boothill tilted his head, considering it. "Reckon you’re not wrong."
You smirked, still hanging onto his arm like a little gremlin. "Guess that makes you my scary cool dad now."
Boothill stared at you for a long moment before sighing, tipping his hat forward to hide the amused glint in his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, kid. Guess it does."
Boothill had one golden rule—don’t mess with his own.
And right now, some lowlife was doing just that.
"Kid," he drawled, stepping in front of you as the thug sneered. "Y’wanna tell me why this fella’s lookin’ at you like that?"
You shrugged. "I may have stolen his gun parts."
Boothill sighed. "May?"
"Okay, definitely."
The thug growled, stepping closer. "You little—"
Boothill moved faster.
A single, precise gunshot rang out, and the thug froze as Boothill’s revolver hovered an inch from his face.
"Now, now," Boothill said lazily, "let’s not be rude to the kid."
You grinned from behind him, hands on your hips. "Told you I had a scary cool dad."
Boothill just sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, kid?"
The existential crisis I feel knowing how many kids Izaya actually raised/took care/mentored... dude is collecting them like pokemon as someone who basically had no one as a child/teen either comeonnn
HE DOESNT WANT THEM. He’s like SOMEONE get these children as far away from me as possible for their sake and mine.
