The little club one-shots/headcanons

7. Lost and Found

Plot /|\ Tiny had been working in the organ trade for a few years now, atleast, it was a way for him to support himself. He grew up orphaned without an opportunity for an education of his own, so instead of rotting under a bridge untill his organs packed it in, he eventually came a life of...Crime. murder, assassination- it was business. Just business.

Everything was going to plan! He'd cleaned up his tracks - he was just interested in seeing if there was anything of value in his targets household, but after his blood going cold at the notice of a child's bedroom, he just couldn't leave them there to discover their parents lifeless body. Not like he did, 30 something years ago.

Ship /|\ N/A

Type /|\ Hurt comfort, found family

Warnings /|\ this one is heavy asf!! Depictions of blood, murder, implied childhood trauma, parental death, assassination, mental ruckus, please just read at your own risk!! Kidnapping?? I have no idea if it counts as Kidnapping or adoption!! Mentions of suicide, and drug smuggling

POV /|\ N/A

Words /|\  1557

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The air was thick with tension, the muffled screams stinging his ears as he moved his hands in a quick snapping motion, the sickening crunch of bone crushing beneath his grasp making a shiver run down his neck. He'd never get used to that. Tiny stood still as he watched the heavy body thud onto grey carpet, letting himself zone out as his head pounded. Oh, he hated this. He shouldn't be doing this, he knew that - but what else was there for him at this point? The only other option he saw in place for him was a rope and chair.

He grabbed his head - sweat beading onto his fingers as his heavy breathing stunted in his thick mask. The walls were a deep red, grey carpet layed on the floor and a bright white couch was the centre of attention, alongside oak wood mantles and shelves full of intricately decorated china. It certainly looked wealthy enough. He looked down at the gruff, older man he'd taken down just 5 minutes ago, now noticing the glimmering watch and neatly done tattoos covering his forearm.

He should atleast take a look around the house. He'll take what's worth his time, nothing more, all his buyer wanted was the body anyways. Didn't say a thing about their possessions. He stretched his legs as he moved for the first time in what felt like hours, gods his clothes were heavy, before turning back into the hallway, stumbling as his feet trembled. Not now, he had to get a grip, but with how lightheaded he felt he almost debating to dare conk on the sofa.

His heavy boots thudded as they carried him up the wooden staircase, him noting just how fancy the place looked before huffing a short breath as he stood out into the upper hallways. The floors had returned to being carpeted, though this time lighter than downstairs, and a bit dirtier. A large light dangled from the smooth concrete ceiling, the mix and match of decorative choices giving him a small ick before he stared at himself in the open bathroom's mirror. His gloves were coated in a thin, dried layer of red and his mask was wet around his mouth with how he'd been exhausting himself.

He dipped into the white brick walls, looking away from the sickly image of himself in favor of staring at a medicine cabinet, deciding to keep his hands off whatever was laying behind the oak doors, instead grabbing a somewhat smashed phone off a counter top. What in the world was that doing there? Oh well, makes his job easier. The irritating buzz of artificial lightbulbs numbed in his brain as he stared down the hall - heart sinking as he stared into a dark bedroom.