Bruno in the walls watching everyone harmonize about how much they hate him:
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Hi there I absolutely loved your mia diluc headcanons, may I ask for that with Childe if you’d like? Plus the reader is injured? Ty!!
YES YES and YES ANON You have struck. Gold.
tw for violence
- childe/reader, headcanons, angst, sfw
- The second Childe hears you’ve gone missing he laughs. He just fucking laughs cause he can’t believe someone would be so stupid as to fuck with you, lover of the Foul Legacy, vanguard of the Harbingers. Do they have a fucking death wish? Certainly, they must, because if he finds even a single hair on your head out of place - well. Who knows what he might do. Childe promised you that he’d keep you safe, that he’d love you sweetly, love you honestly - and he’s not about to break that promise now.
- The moment his informant walks away Childe sees red, his kind smile twisting into a flat, carefully blank mask. His eyes, however, tell of something different- something darker, something crueler - something violent. How dare they. How dare they? The wood of his desk splinters in his grip and he smothers a cruel laugh behind his hand. Honestly, he has to commend them - not many are so stupid that they’d challenge him in such a direct, personal way. Really, if they wanted his attention, they most certainly have it now.
- Childe disappears from his office, leaves the paperwork to his secretaries, and continues his business as usual. His movements are careful, calculated, so articulated perfectly to look natural despite the blood boiling in his veins. The careful way he folds his fingers around his bow - it’s all deliberate down to the way he breathes.
- He hates not knowing if you’re safe, if you’re alright, if you’re alive - but he’s played this game before - more often as the kidnapper rather than the kidnappee - so he knows how this works. He won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they’ve gotten under his skin. He won’t even cry or fret - he has full confidence he will find you. And seven bless, he will find you. Mark his words.
- Childe orchestrates his search for you in the shadows, his fingers reaching across the continents in the form of Fatui agents and diplomatic spies. He keeps his flow of information airtight and confronts the leads of your whereabouts on his own - and at the end of it all the search only takes him about a day. Poor, unfortunate wretches, a shame they had to be on the receiving end of his blade - perhaps if they didn’t kidnap you he might let them live long enough to splutter an excuse.
- He plans the raid on the hideout himself, his underlings rushing to secure you and your safety while he deals with the trash. He has half the mind to question what could be so fucking important they had to go through you to get to him, but- Oh, the moment he sees that you’re injured- Childe can’t help but let his arrows fly, a feral gleam in his eye as he tears them all apart. It’s quick, it’s efficient, it’s merciless and cruel.
- His boot falls heavy on the chest of one of your kidnappers, his heel grinding into the woman's broken ribs with cold contemplation. Childe runs a tongue across his canines, almost lax as he aims his bow at her. His brows furrow slightly as he observes her, face full of condescension for the scum under his boot.
- He smiles then, all sweet and fangs and murderous intent.
- He draws his arrow. “Pick a god and pray.”
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didnt_they_tell_you_that_i_was_a_savage.jpg
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Continuation of this, probably an AU in which they finally realize their gay af feelings for each other are reciprocated after silently pining for years
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