ettrick x doorwoman
dedicated to fossilgummies on twt
In a dimmed room, the ginger sat on a luxurious bed, naked. She backed against the backboard of the bed. Her lap was full of a mortal. His lips were around her nipple, face practically glued against her chest. Writhing against her in pleasure. Fingers deep inside the mortal’s holes.
She cradles the mortal with faux tenderness. Just another faceless mortal to service. Nothing more; she felt very little, but this one was willing to worship her. A temptation that she admittedly still craved.
The undying devotion- she's a god to be worshipped. The idea of being the center of a mortal's life broke her carefully curated resolve. Being off the clock meant she was able to indulge safely without the possibility of compromising her job. The worst that could happen now was a slap on the wrist. As she wasn't currently representing the Baroness.
You might ask yourself, how did she get here? It was the middle of the night, right as she was about to clock out and go 'home', a coworker asked her to check upon a guest. One asking for her by name. She knew who it was, a pathetic mortal, one smitten with her.
She mistakenly caught the mortal's attention. Well, it was grieving. The mortal drank its woes away, blubbering and whining about a past relationship that had crumbled, something arbitrary to the god. She gave the customary song and dance she does with guests, smiling and refilling its cup. Hours passed, and it kept drinking and drinking until it was unable to stand straight. Practically falling on its own feet.
She politely asked another co-worker to take her place at the bar, briefly stating she was worried about this guest. Escorting the drunken mortal to its room wasn't easy, but it had to be done. This guest was one of the 'VIPs', paying for premium and top-quality care.
This isn't her job, but it was making a scene, and she had enough. Her patience wore thin after listening to the mortal cry and talk in circles and speak nonsense. Annoying but nothing unusual, but today hasn't been great, and even gods can have off days! Even so, she decided she'd deal with this mortal herself.
She had the barely coherent mortal leaning against her side, her arm tightly around its waist. It was mumbling pathetic apologies and saying it wasn't like this usually. Excuse upon excuse; she didn't care. She summons a door, one that takes them to the penthouses, the mortal residing in one of the more expensive suites.
She guides the fumbling, drunken mortal to its room. She balances the mortal on her hip as she unlocks the door. Guiding it into the dark room. She carefully helps the mortal lie down, discarding its obnoxious hat and shedding its glasses.
She summons a water pitcher and a cup, leaving a cup of water on the bedside stand. She goes to leave before the mortal grabs her wrist, warbling about not wanting to be alone, calling her by another man's name.
Pathetic, truly.
She sighs and soothes the mortal, saying she'll leave her card just in case he needs further assistance. The customary script. Typically forgotten by the guest after she left. She didn't expect the next morning to be asked by name and to find the once drunken mortal, put together and cleaned up, with an embarrassed flush on its face. But here she was. She was given an apology and an introduction.
The mortal was named Ettrick, a man of extensive knowledge of the newly found magic that plagued the city in recent years. A proper mage as well, which piqued her interest; mortals don't typically have the body to host such volatile elements, let alone have the knowledge this one does.
This started a pattern. The mortal would stay for long periods of time, just to be around her, talking to her during her shifts at the bar, asking for her by name to deliver food and wines to his suite. If she were a mortal herself, she would have been flattered. But it was an inconvenience; no matter how many times she blew off the mortal, he would persist.
Over time she had received grand bouquets, premium chocolates wrapped in gold, coffee before her shifts, shiny trinkets from his travels when he wasn't around. She was familiar with the way mortals showed their affections, and he was no different. Courting her like a maiden rather than treating her as the service worker she was.
Her coworker would coo and tease her about her admirer. It was becoming increasingly more frustrating; he was disrupting her working life with his attempts to woo her. She barely tended to others with him around. The quality of her work was suffering because of the constant harassment. How could a mortal get under her skin? She was a GOD!
Having had enough of this, she goes to confront the man. She needs to put a stop to this before it gets worse; she puts on her best customer service smile and goes to have a chat with him.
She ends up in bed with him, hickies mark her pale skin, her groin sore from the man’s desperate mouth. He slept soundly, nestled between her breasts. Her hands idly ran through his hair. This wasn't the outcome she thought would happen: a dead body and some blood. But not this; after the physical relationship, it seemed to lessen his obsession, at least in public.
It's transitional. The relationship means nothing to her but a transition. Poor Ettrick thought she loved him; he believed the flowery, artificial, and empty words she spoke to him, but she truly couldn't bother with the simple-minded concept of love.
However, he was hers. Held by invisible chains. Unknowingly trapped himself in a web with a hungry spider, wrapped in a delusion of love and affection which never truly occurred. Waiting to be devoured again and again. She owned him; she was his everything, and she couldn't ask for more. She was content. She wouldn't let him go now. Forever trapped in a never-ending mind game until his last dying breath.