Christmas Special! Male tiefling x gender neutral reader (sfw) (Patreon)

Merry Christmas and a Happy Festive Season to all of you! Thank you so much for your support since I relaunched in October, and I hope this short, extra story goes at least a little way towards saying thank you. 

Featuring: one grumpy, cat-like tiefling, a gender neutral reader, and an office party that changes some opinions

Wordcount: 2295

“See you later at the party, Nyri?” you asked as you shut down your computer and stood to stretch out the gradual buildup of a day’s worth of tension from your spine. “You are going, right?”

The tiefling looked up at you from his desk and raised a sharp, dark eyebrow.

His eyes were a striking gold with a cat’s slit pupils, and his onyx horns curved back from his forehead over the crown of his head to end in an elegant, upward flick. His skin was a flawless, midnight grey, and across his high cheekbones, you could just make out a dusting of darker freckles that framed his beautiful eyes. As usual, his long, black hair was plaited to fall forward in a long rope over one shoulder.

He was slim and lithe as a cat, and you’d harboured a crush on him since your first meeting with him, but Nyri was cold and dryly sarcastic, and any real attempt you’d made to be friendly with him had been politely rebuffed.

“Only because our dear boss will fire me if I don’t,” he drawled and looked away, apparently bored already by the idea of holding a conversation with you.

Swallowing, you dredged up a little more courage from your sputtering reserves, and smiled. “You wouldn’t be fired for missing it. But is it really going to be that bad? It can’t be worse than the one at my last job… We all got food poisoning right before Christmas because the catering was done on the cheap by a company run by trolls and they didn’t refrigerate the seafood.”

Nyri’s darker lips curled at that, but you weren’t sure if it was a smile or a grimace of revulsion. Perhaps mentioning food poisoning wasn’t the best way to get your crush to warm up to you though.

“I think I can safely say you won’t contract salmonella from the catering here. I should hope not anyway; my sister is doing it.”

“Oh,” you said, shucking on your jacket and picking up your bag. “I didn’t know she has a catering business.”

“She doesn't. She actually runs a restaurant on the other side of town, but occasionally she’ll do something like this.”

“What’s the restaurant?”

“The Silver Crow.”

Your eyebrows shot up this time, and you puffed out a little sigh. “I’ve heard it’s impossible to get a table there these days.”

He just made a little sideways motion of his head, and that was that. Apparently being the brother of the owner meant he could get a table at the most exclusive restaurant in town whenever he liked. Too bad he wasn’t likely to offer to take you any time soon.

“Well… I’m going to nip home and get freshened up,” you chirped. “I wasn’t sure whether to believe Inge when they said people dress up silly for the party though… Is it true?”

Nyri finished what he’d been typing on his keyboard with his long, expressive fingers and returned his cat-like eyes to you. “Unfortunately,” he sighed.

A rush of bravery or stupidity, or perhaps a last gasp of frustration, overtook you for a moment and you blurted, “Well, at least all you have to do is put on a Grinch onesie and you’ll be sorted. See you later, Nyri.”

And with that, before your common sense or self-preservation instincts could return, you left, heart hammering, and totally oblivious to the fact that Nyri was watching you walk away with a very strange expression on his face.

Returning to the office a couple of hours later, you adjusted the hem of your geeky-themed Christmas jumper and nibbled anxiously at your lip before going in.

Beyond the frosted glass doors to the foyer — adorned with glittering garlands of plastic bunting in the shapes of Christmas trees and a sleigh pulled by reindeer — you could hear the sounds of celebration, laughter, and the chinking of glasses, and you let it soak into you for a little courage.

It was about time you enjoyed yourself too. You’d worked hard, you’d seen a number of projects through to a successful conclusion, and you’d made new friends who actually sought out your company outside of work too, which was a first. Things were looking up.

So, in you stepped, full of hope. Even so, the moment you pushed the door open and saw that almost everyone was indeed wearing some kind of silly jumper, you exhaled in relief.

A hand clapped you on the shoulder almost immediately, and you looked up to find Em, the huge orc who worked at the desk opposite yours, beaming down at you. She had a three piece suit on as usual, but this outfit’s tweed waistcoat was adorned with a surprisingly tasteful pattern of snowflakes and snowmen. She’d also braided tiny blue and silver baubles into her twin plaits, and between those, were silver, jingling bells.

“You look amazing,” you smiled, cursing yourself for sounding a little winded. It was hard not to be attracted to or intimidated by Em (or both).

“So do you! I love that jumper,” she said, eyeing the reindeer that were prancing around the Fairisle style jumper in a continuous loop. “You’d better show it to Inge — they’re collecting a tally of all the reindeer that people are wearing tonight. I think they’re on fifteen so far.”

Laughing, you looked across the room and saw the reindeer cervitaur scribbling something down in a little notebook before stuffing it back into the panniers they had like saddlebags over their withers. Beside them was your immediate boss, and beside her, Nyri stood looking like a supermodel, and bored.

He was wearing a dark suit that looked no different from his usual work attire, and his hoofed feet were as immaculately polished as ever. Behind him, his tail lashed idly back and forth and he had a general air of disdain on his strikingly attractive face.

“Old misery-guts over there looks even more cheerful than usual,” Em whispered in your ear, leaning down so as not to let her voice carry. “Who spat in his mulled wine?”

“He always looks like that,” you replied in an undertone. “Maybe we can cheer him up a bit?”

“Vampires may walk in broad daylight before that one cracks a smile,” she muttered. “But suit yourself.”

Undaunted by her lack of faith, you boldly closed the distance between you and the miserable tielfing, and he met your gaze with his usual, indolent stare.

“Hey,” you smiled when you joined him. “You didn’t come as the Grinch then?” you asked, and Em barely managed to turn her surprised snort into a cough.

“I already had an outfit,” Nyri said dryly.

“Oh?”

“Can’t you guess?” he said.

“I… No?” you said, a little thrown by the almost playful light kindling in his eyes. That was certainly new.

“Krampus. Didn’t the cloven hooves and horns give it away?” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow and you deflated a little. He was mocking you. Of course he was.

“You always have the horns…” you said flatly.

“Mm.”

Beside you, Em said, “And he’s always a short-tempered Grinch who’s allergic to fun, so yeah, I’d say it tracks.”

“You see?” he said acerbically, gesturing faintly with his half-empty glass of wine. “Perhaps you haven’t been with the company long enough to figure out the fact that I don’t do ‘fun’. It’s abhorrent, and I’m allergic.”

“Ever?” you asked and became painfully aware that a few people around you had stopped talking to observe the exchange.

“Come off it,” Em laughed. “Nyri’s idea of fun is filing tax returns.”

With a scowl, you turned to face Em and said, “I don’t believe that. He brings in a takeaway cup from the same shop every morning, and he always throws a brown paper bag into the bin in the kitchen, so he must have some kind of pastry to go with it. He enjoys the small things in life… so stands to reason he knows how to have fun too.”

The tiefling in question was watching the two of you argue about him with an odd expression on his face. It dawned on you then that perhaps people had stopped making an effort to be kind to him.

“Go on then,” Em said to him. “Prove me wrong. What do you do for fun on the weekends, Nyri?”

“My private life is none of your business,” he said tartly, but he was still looking at you, and he added, “You’re more observant than I gave you credit for. I’ll forgive you if you can guess my favourite pastry.”

Rising to the challenge, you thought back to all the times you’d seen him ball up and toss the bag expertly into the bin in the corner while making himself another, infinitely more disappointing, coffee from the office machine. There was always the same smell in the air before it was obscured by slightly burnt coffee, and you smiled.

“Cinnamon Danish.”

He raised his eyebrows, but the sarcasm was gone, replaced by mild but genuine surprise.

“Was I right?”

“You… were,” he faltered. Then he raised his glass in a toast in your general direction and drained it. “Excuse me.”

You watched him go, and then turned back to Em, who was instead watching you. “What?”

“He’s… different with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He talks more, for one,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’m going to go and try those mini steak sandwich things over there. You want one?”

You shook your head and waited for her to go before following Nyri across the room to the drinks table.

As you sidled up to him he shot you a look and your mouth went dry. In the softer lighting of the party, he looked almost ethereal, and his eyes glowed like polished, back-lit amber.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

For a long moment, he stared at you, and then his shoulders dropped a little and his pupils dilated a fraction.

“You didn't,” he said in a low, velvety voice. “And nothing that was said back there was untrue. I don’t do much outside of work, and quite honestly, the idea of coming to this thing tonight gave me hives.”

“You’re still here though,” you said. “And don’t give me that ‘the boss would fire me’ bullshit.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see what you looked like out of your work clothes,” he fired back defensively.

“A baggy Christmas sweater wouldn’t be my outfit of choice to impress you, Nyri. Not with your fashion sense,” you added, eyeing his snappy suit up and down.

“Oh?” He turned with a little flare of interest in his golden eyes, and cocked his hips to one side. “Humour me.” Apparently he was back to being prickly and defensive.

A wash of unexpected sadness swirled across your emotions, and you shrugged. “I don’t think anything would impress you, Nyri,” you said quietly, and walked away.

His hand snatched your wrist before you could leave, and your heart leapt to your throat. You turned back to him and he let go of you, but only slowly. You missed the soft warmth of his hand instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I — I’m sorry.”

You regarded him for a long moment, then smiled softly. “What do you do for fun, Nyri?”

“Ballroom dancing.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I like you? Because I want to prove to people that you’re not really a grumpy old Krampus? Because I don’t believe that you don’t know how to have fun? Any of the above,” you said.

“Flower arranging,” he said, in a quiet voice. “I teach flower arranging at the local community centre on the weekends. Does that count?”

You regarded him. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“Then it counts.”

Nyri blinked, and then, for the first time in your frosty acquaintance of six months, he smiled.

It lifted one side of his mouth and created a dimple in his dark cheek, and he looked away with a bashful expression. “Thank you,” he said, murmuring your name afterwards. “I… It will come as no surprise to you that I find it hard to let people in.”

You rolled your eyes in the affirmative, but said nothing, sensing he was speaking from a place of vulnerability, and aware that anything you said might bring up his walls again.

“But you’ve been… relentlessly kind to me,” he went on, with a small degree of self-effacing sarcasm lacing his tone, “And I’ve been nothing but appalling to you. I’m sorry. The more I like a person, the more awful I am to them, it seems. Which is no excuse, obviously.”

“You… like me?” you blurted.

“Very much.”

“Oh.”

“You’re kind, patient, thoughtful, sweet, funny… And all I’ve been is rude.”

“That’s not entirely true,” you countered with a little smirk. “You've also been ‘relentlessly’ sarcastic.”

“‘Relentlessly sarcastic’ is my default,” he said with a roll of his eyes as well. “But yes, I have. Will you forgive me? Christmas miracle, and all?”

You smiled. “I think I might.”

“Thank you.” Nyri paused then and let his gaze drop to his dark, polished, cloven hooves before looking back up at you through his lashes. He murmured your name, swallowed and then asked, “Is it too much to ask for a second miracle?”

Intrigued, you tilted your head playfully. “Dunno. Depends…”

With another uncharacteristically open and bashful smile, he snorted softly and shook his head, the long braid swaying across his back. “Would you perhaps like to join me for dinner at The Silver Crow some time after Christmas?”

Your heart leapt and you laughed, nodding. “Yes, Nyri, I’d love that.”

_

Hope you enjoyed it!! Link to my masterlist of stories is pinned on Patreon and linked here.