Mom! I'm Texting Serial Killers! (Creepypasta x reader)

holy shit. (31)

He grumbled in response, muttering about how 'I'm not even professional,' and 'wow okay miss boss lady.'

Though she heard it all.

"Ah, I've found the information on her family here."

"Tell me, please." He smiled charmingly, leaning forward as he rested his chin on the back on his hand.

She stayed stoic as the words fell from her supple lips with ease,

"Her family is currently dead, at the bottom of a river stationed in (towns name), near a well known farm."

"Guess we'll need another close relative, hmm?"

The redhead smiled, her violet eyes glistening in a glint of unspeakable desire and bloodlust as she nodded, throwing the very vital file carelessly to the side for the servant (who JUST waxed the damned desk--) to catch it without an issue.

The man placed her arms behind her back and leaned forward, tilting her head as she smiled sweetly.

"You gonna take me back, sire?"

"For sure! Why not? I'm lonely anyway... oh! Just one little thing I needa tell you about..." She hummed in response, closing her eyes, very pleased her plan worked.

"I might've lost, like... I don't know, half? of my powweeerrrrsss--"

"What!? How?!"

"Shush! No time to question! We need to make plans."

she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose in aggravation, before throwing her hands up in the air, "My brother can help... He's, uh, talented with... Kidnapping people."

"Good. I'll tell you the plan once you get him to agree."

And with that, she bowed, before leaving calmly, being escorted by two young servants.

<||||||||||||||||||||||| >

"Fuck you, damned whore. Ain't no way in hell I'm doing your dirty work for you."

The elegant woman rose her eyebrows as if to say, 'are you done yet?', crossing her arms as her younger brother glared at her.

He was a boy of leaner build, along with messy, dirty blonde, nearly brown hair and dark, hazel eyes. He was tan and wore a simple hoodie and skinny jeans with black boots, laced up by the hands of a perfectionist.

One thing they have in common, you could say.

He was leaning over his knees, dangling his legs dangerously over the top of a tall building, careless to whether or not he would fall or not.

His sister was behind him, the wind blowing through her hair slowly; the streets below filled with constant ruckus of car horns blaring and music.

Typical city night.

He glared down at the bright lights, beautiful yet still pissing him off with its blinding glory.