꒰👁️꒱ 𝕸𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖆 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

Welcome To Hell | Demon!Reader + Mark

Requested: Unkn0wn_we1rd_c0re

Warnings: Religious stuff? Hell, cussing, suicide mentioned, angst.

[UPDATE]

This series was already pretty platonic so all I needed to do was change the sign. I'll still skim through the text though. It's like picking ticks off of your dog.

Grammar updates because I don't fricken KNOW what I was doing.

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       You sighed as you stamped another piece of paper. It belonged to one of the sinners that was sent down here, and you of course had to fill out their paper work. When a sinner dies and goes to hell, where you currently are, they have to visit you and give you their info. Info such as, first and last name, birth-date and death-date, cause of death, and of course the reason why they are in hell. If they don't know the reason, they were sent to find out. That usually takes an eternity. However, over time there were more suicides coming in so more people had an answer for their death.
        You flipped through some older papers that you had, gathered them up and shoved them into the folder that would go into your iron drawers later. You tapped your pen on your desk, waiting for another sinner to come in. This was the most boring job that a demon could possibly have. and unfortunately for you, you got it. The way you ended up in hell was unknown, but Satan decided to make you do something worse than eternal searching. That's how you ended up here, in an office full of fucking papers. You rested your head on the work desk, rolling your eyes a bit. Just as you were about to call for a break there was a knock at the door. You shot up and said, "Come in," in a tired voice.
       The door opened to reveal a very handsome man, you had to say. "Hi, uhm.." The guy said, you just stared. "His mid-dark brown hair is very fluffy. His face is so adorable," Your thoughts were cut with a hand waving in front of you. "uhm.. you okay?" He quietly asked. You snapped back to reality. "I yes, yes, I am fine," You cleared your throat and fixed your clothes. "You're here for your paper-work to be filled out, right? You asked. He just nodded. "Name, first and last," You said. "Mark Heathcliff," He mumbled. You nodded and wrote it down. "Birth-date and death-date," You spoke. "I died on September 15th 1992," Mark said. "I don't remember....when I was born," Mark admitted. You nodded, you felt bad for him.
       "How did you die?" You asked. "I..I killed..." Mark stopped. He didn't say anything. He was still in a state of shock, so you understood why he was having a hard time. "Hey, it's okay. I understand," You comforted- or at least tried to. "No! No you don't," Mark growled. "Okay," You whispered. You wrote down the rest of the information. "You," You said, "you can go now." Mark nodded and stood up, his head hanging low. "Be careful out there." He sighed and left, shutting the door behind him.
       You looked up at the clock, your shift was almost over. Great. You sighed and packed your things in your little bag and closed up for the night.

.......Part 2 coming soon.