[Complete] Ch 4 Fate/Charm of the Devil Fae (Patreon)

Fate/Charm of the Devil Fae

This fic is inspired by Sticky Situation by Professor Quill, In Bloom by Flight of Fancy,  and to a certain extent Benefits of Saving a Veela by WD_ONeill. Please check them out.

Story Starts

-=&<o>&=-

Ch 4 - The Boundless Hand

Crosses the Xiangqi River

Disclaimer: Everyone here is at least 18 years of age. 

Shirou sat on the engawa, bare feet on warm wood, a cup of tea growing cold beside him.

The weekend before term started. Or it would have been, had the campus existed yet.

The Gremory-Sitri joint venture—Rias and Sona's personal project—had been ambitious from the start. A secondary academy built into the leyline-rich side of Mount Enzou, the ridge that split the island between Kuoh Town and Fuyuki City. A high school, originally. Then Runeas had involved herself.

Rias had been grateful. Genuinely so—Shirou knew the girl well enough to recognise honesty when he saw it. But he also knew her well enough to catch the slight tightening around her eyes whenever the topic arose.

Having your project swallowed by your first ancestor stung, especially when it was meant to show independence from family influence. Doubly so when your brother was the Lucifer himself—someone who was supposed to be neutral, never play favourites, for the betterment of Devil society.

Though the Leviathan didn’t particularly care what people thought, and doted on Sona regardless—much to Sona’s displeasure.

But Rias was a devil who practised the sin of Pride—well, both she and Sona—and she’d never accept people thinking whatever she’d achieved was down to her brother being the Lucifer.

Though she did have her exceptions. Like when she’d asked him to help with Ris—

Moist lips touched his cheek.

Shirou looked up. Rin stood over him, hip cocked, wearing that smile—the one she reserved for moments she believed she'd won something.

He quirked a brow.

The smile widened.

"Unfortunately"—Rin pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, a gesture that belonged on a kabuki stage—"you won't be able to ravish this body today. I know. Such a tragedy. The Greeks would write entire plays about lesser losses." She dropped the pose. "I've got things to do, so we'll have to suspend our little arrangement."

"What things?"

Rin squatted, hugging her knees, and tilted her head. That wry curl of her lips hadn't budged.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

She crawled forward and straddled his lap. Her body pressed flush against his chest, the thin fabric of her summer dress doing nothing to hide the heat of her skin. Her teeth caught his earlobe, nipped, and then she moaned—low, deliberate, directly into his ear—whilst grinding her hips against him.

She leant back just enough to claim his mouth, tongue sliding against his.

Shirou's hands moved for her arse.

Rin was already standing. She swung her legs back, licked her lips, and wiped the corner of her mouth with one finger. Her other hand settled on her hip.

Shirou groaned. He was hard, and she knew it. She'd done it on purpose.

"If you must know, I'm visiting jolly old England with Ayako. We'll be home tonight, so—see ya."

A swirl of violet light opened behind her. Rin stepped backward into the portal without looking, as casual as stepping off a kerb. The rift snapped shut.

Spatial transference cost Shirou considerable effort even as a devil-fae hybrid—without a medium blade, at least. Rin did it mid-goodbye.

He groaned again. The lust stirred beneath his sternum, a low heat spreading outward through his chest.

Shirou looked across the garden to the neighbouring estate—Rias's residence, a miniature European manor that Sirzechs had constructed at her request when they were children. Blue-green met gold through the second-floor window.

Rias stood there, arms folded. She held his gaze for precisely two seconds, her expression flat, then turned and walked away from the glass.

Behind her, Akeno lingered. Her smirk was visible even at this distance—sharp, amused, and entirely unhelpful. She gave Shirou the faintest wave of her fingers before following her King deeper into the room.

'Still angry, then.'

He couldn't blame her. The agreement bound his hands until—

A crack of displaced magic split the air.

Rin hung halfway through a fresh portal, her upper body protruding into the garden whilst her legs dangled somewhere over England. Or possibly Ayako's room. She waved a piece of brown parchment, an opened envelope flapping from one corner.

Shirou gave her a flat stare.

"Oh, right—this arrived by owl. Very pompous owl. Very tired owl." She cleared her throat and read aloud. "Congratulations! You have successfully facilitated the first healthy male births by both a full-blooded Veela and a half-Veela!" She grinned, teeth flashing. "Also, you might want to work through all your frustrations before tonight, because Runeas is picking you up. You're going to the Underworld."

She lobbed the parchment at him. It smacked against his chest.

BAM.

The front door crashed open somewhere behind him.

"Ate-tuh-tuh-tuh—"

Taiga's unmistakable yelp carried from the living room. She'd walked straight into something. A wall, most likely. Or a door frame. Or perhaps nothing at all.

Rin's grin turned predatory. "Sounds like we have a volunteer. Don't miss me too much! Bye!"

The portal consumed her. Silence returned to the garden.

"Shirou!" Taiga's voice barrelled down the corridor, growing louder with each syllable. "You'll be helping Neko-san tomorrow, right? We're welcoming the new transfer teachers and they're apparently from Ko—re—"

She appeared in the doorway. Her eyes dropped to his lap, then rose to his face, then dropped again.

The heat beneath his sternum had spread considerably.

"A!"

Taiga's mouth formed a perfect circle. Pink crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks.

She straightened her back, smoothed her skirt, and lifted her chin in an attempt at dignity that fooled neither of them.

And so the sheathing protocols were utilised yet again in the Emiya household.

-=&o&=-

Taiga's voice cracked on the last word.

"Uhhh—yes! Shirou, right there!"

Her fingers dug into the living-room couch. Knuckles white. Back arched, arse tipped up, skirt rucked to her waist. Shirou drove into her from behind and the wet sound of it filled the room. Her panties hung off one ankle, lace dark where she had soaked them before he got them down.

The tea had gone cold. The cup lay somewhere in the garden, knocked clear when he hauled her off the veranda and onto her hands and knees.

He gripped her hips and pulled her back onto him. She took him to the base. Tight. Slick. Still fluttering from the last time she came. He watched himself sink in, the stretch of her around his cock, her arousal shining on him each time he drew back.

Afternoon sun warmed his bare back. Sweat ran down his spine. Taiga's moans bounced off the empty walls and came back thinner.

She shoved against him, meeting the rhythm.

"Harder—"

He obliged.

His hold tightened. Short, heavy strokes shoved her forward on the cushion and dragged her back. Each one bottomed out. The head of his cock ground against the end of her and she made a broken sound she couldn't swallow. Her thighs shook. One knee slipped on the cushion; he caught her hip and set her again without slowing.

"Fuck—Shirou—"

She didn't tell him to stop.

Her arms gave. She folded forward, cheek pressed to the wood of the armrest, mouth open, breath fogging the grain. Shirou kept going. The new angle let him reach deeper. She cried out. Her hands scrabbled, nails catching in the weave, finding nothing to hold.

"I was—supposed to—tell you—" Each word punched loose between thrusts. "Something—important—"

"Later."

"But—"

He hauled her upright. Her back hit his chest. One hand spread across her stomach, palm flat, feeling the shift of her each time he pushed in. The other cupped her breast. His thumb rolled her nipple until it peaked under his hand, then pinched. She jolted. Clenched. He felt it all the way down his cock.

His teeth grazed her neck. He bit, not enough to break skin, enough that her whole body went tight around him. He didn't stop. Long strokes now, slower, deeper, his hips flush to her arse at the end of each one. Her skirt had twisted. The bunched fabric rubbed his wrist where he held her belly. Her knickers tugged at her ankle every time her foot slipped.

Whatever she had meant to say came apart.

A long, shuddering moan tore out of her. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder. Fingers clumsy in his hair. She held on whilst he kept moving, breath hitching, thighs trembling, the words gone.

She came against his thrusts as he picked up the pace fluid coating her inside.

It wasn't the last climax for either of them.

She reached back and pulled Shirou into a kiss as she braced herself for the next hour.

-=&o&=-

Shirou followed Runeas through the corridors of Beelzebub’s estate, their footsteps echoing against polished obsidian floors. Crystal sconces cast pale blue light across tapestries depicting the Great Satan’s various achievements—diagrams of the Evil Piece system, portraits of significant reincarnated devils, and paintings that looked like artists’ renditions of scenes from the Great War.

Runeas had arrived, of course, whilst he was mid-thrust into Sakura. Taiga had been sprawled naked on the couch, nursing an energy shake with a glazed yet satisfied expression, thoroughly worn out. Sakura had joined them after returning from the grocer’s—one moment she’d been putting away vegetables, the next she’d shed her clothes, handed Taiga the shake, and climbed onto his lap.

Runeas hadn’t even blinked. She’d simply told him to finish quickly, and when he had, a wave of her hand swept away every trace of sweat and fluid from him, Sakura, Taiga, and the surrounding furniture. He’d felt refreshed, as if he’d stepped out of a cold shower rather than a three-hour session.

He’d kissed both women goodbye. Taiga had reminded him about his shift in Copenhagen before he’d stepped through the teleportation circle.

Runeas had brought them to the Gremory territory train station rather than directly to Beelzebub’s domain. Devil society maintained strict protocols about inter-territory teleportation—partly a matter of courtesy, partly practical law enforcement. Local authorities tracked magical transit within their borders. Adding foreign teleportation signatures to that web would make their jobs considerably harder, and showing up unannounced in another lord’s domain without passing through proper channels was considered anywhere from rude to hostile, depending on who you asked.

Despite the delay he’d caused, Runeas remained in excellent spirits. The letter from Apolline had confirmed her experiment’s success. Both Apolline and Kalina had required artificial insemination to guarantee the selection of male sperm—his role had been to prime their eggs, not provide the genetic material—but the results spoke for themselves. The first healthy male children born to full-blooded and half-Veela mothers in recorded history.

Kalina had been quite the experience. The older Veela had lost her husband decades ago—caught in the British Dark Lord’s sole attack on French soil during his reign of terror. She’d said it was a long time past, and having lived in the coven since, she’d accumulated considerable experience. Shirou had learned things from the mature Veela that he was sure everyone would appreciate. It was the least he could do.

He felt less guilt about Kalina than he had about Apolline, though he questioned whether guilt was even the appropriate response anymore. Was morality the correct framework for a Devil-Fae hybrid whose home had been officially designated a den of debauchery? Did he have any ground to stand on when the Emiya estate now operated under ‘sheathing protocols’?

Shirou shook his head. The letter had detailed how happy Apolline and Jean were, how they’d already begun discussing a second son once their baby was a bit older—

A shoulder collided with his.

“Hey!” Shirou turned toward the figure who’d passed him.

The devil was gentle-looking, with dark hair that gleamed almost green where it caught the light. He wore the formal attire of old nobility—fitted coat, high collar, a cape draped across his shoulders with fur trim at the mantle. His companion was a blonde woman in a nun’s habit, hands clasped before her, expression blank, staring into the distance. The outfit was notably missing any cross—obviously.

The nobleman offered Shirou an amicable smile. “Apologies. I was so focused on my destination that I failed to notice you.”

Something about the phrasing struck Shirou as wrong, though he couldn’t identify what. He let it pass.

“No, I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

The devil’s smile widened, revealing a sliver of teeth. His companion’s expression remained unchanged.

“And what an honour to encounter one of the original pillars.” The nobleman executed a graceful bow toward Runeas. His companion mirrored the gesture without a word. “Lady Gremory.”

“Diadora.” Runeas inclined her head. “Leaving already? I would have thought Ajuka would keep you longer.”

Diadora Astaroth, brother to Ajuka Beelzebub, one of the Four Great Satans. Shirou had never interacted with him directly, but he vaguely recalled Rin’s opinion of the man. ‘Something off about him,’ she’d said once, her nose wrinkling. Sakura had mentioned feeling uncomfortable in his presence, though she’d never elaborated.

“Unfortunately, my brother had company and was rather consumed by his current project.” Diadora’s tone carried theatrical disappointment. “I doubt he would make much of a host at present.”

“It is fine. He expects me.” Runeas gestured toward the corridor ahead. “My apologies for cutting this short, but we must be on our way.”

Diadora bowed again, deeper this time. “Of course, Lady Gremory. A pleasure, as always.”

Shirou and Runeas continued toward the Great Satan’s laboratory. He glanced back once. Diadora and his silent companion had already turned a corner, vanishing from sight.

Something about the devil didn’t sit right. The smile had been pleasant enough. The words had been correct. The bow had been properly respectful.

But Shirou couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just been examined rather than greeted.

-=&o&=-

“Ah, Runeas! Welcome, welcome!” The voice carried through the laboratory’s antechamber, warm and theatrical. “And little Shirou is not so little anymore.”

The man who emerged was bewitchingly beautiful in the way old devils often were—ageless features frozen somewhere in his early twenties, light blue eyes that gleamed with perpetual amusement, and green hair slicked back from his forehead. The resemblance to Diadora was unmistakable now that Shirou thought about it. Brothers, obviously, though Diadora’s hair ran darker, almost black, whilst Ajuka’s was a lighter, almost pastel shade.

Ajuka Beelzebub. One of the Four Great Satans. Creator of the Evil Pieces system that had revolutionised devil society. And, more relevantly to Shirou, one of the few researchers who had been granted access to study his unique condition over the years.

At least Ajuka asked permission first. Unlike a certain cro—

A hand clasped his shoulder. Shirou blinked, looking up to find the Satan standing directly before him, having crossed the room in the space between his thoughts.

“Sorry.” Shirou shook his head. “Lost in thought.”

“Clearly.” Ajuka’s grin carried something mysterious, almost impish. “Though I must say, you’ve grown quite manly since our last meeting.”

His eyebrows wagged.

“Lady Gremory.” The Satan’s attention shifted, though his hand remained on Shirou’s shoulder. “Have you perchance sampled the goods already?”

Heat rushed to Shirou’s face. He shot Runeas a look.

Runeas returned it with naked amusement. “Ah, little Shirou here probably doesn’t see me that way.” A pause, deliberate. “That, or he’s still shy about it.”

Shirou resisted the urge to groan aloud.

It wasn’t shyness. Runeas was busy—always busy, managing territories and politics and whatever schemes she had running at any given moment. He didn’t dare impose on her time. Even Rin had been occupied lately; they hadn’t managed an encore of their first night together despite living under the same roof.

Ajuka chuckled. Runeas joined him. Shirou felt distinctly bullied.

And how did Ajuka even know about his recent activities?

“Oh, is Shirou here?” A melodious voice drifted from the adjoining room.

Lady Avalon emerged a moment later, her smile sly.

Shirou’s expression flattened. The mischievous fae met his gaze without a shred of shame.

That answered his question, then.

Lady Avalon winked.

“Runeas, do you have the report?” Ajuka released Shirou’s shoulder, his attention pivoting abruptly.

“Here.”

A thick stack of papers materialised in Runeas’s hands with a casual wave—documents bound by a metal fastener, dense with text. Shirou caught his own name on the cover page before Ajuka claimed the bundle and began flipping toward the end.

Lady Avalon circled the room and bumped her hip against his. “Today’s the day.”

“Today’s the day?” Shirou echoed.

“You’ll see.” She draped her elbow across his shoulder, leaning against him lazily.

“Excellent.” Ajuka’s voice carried satisfaction as he scanned the final pages. “This is a boon to our Nighthollow Directive.”

Shirou shot Lady Avalon a questioning look. She shrugged, unhelpful as ever.

“Serafall named the directive, actually,” Ajuka offered, unprompted. “The original title was considerably longer, but it was vetoed.”

Information, given freely. Yet the actual explanation, nowhere in sight.

“How are the talks progressing?” Runeas asked.

“Well enough.” Ajuka set the documents aside. “Every representative has been receptive to a point, though some of those recently brought into confidence may require additional convincing.”

Runeas sighed. “Understandable.”

“Patience.” Ajuka’s shrug was elegant, unconcerned. “As discussions progress, everything shall resolve itself.”

“Apologies for being late.”

Vivian materialised between them without warning.

Shirou had long since stopped questioning how she managed it. Teleporting between territories was taboo, and teleporting straight in from the Nevernever should have been an incident—yet no one ever called Vivian on it.

But, according to her, people had simply grown tired of objecting to Merlin, who operated by rules that applied only to him—not that it answered why no one had ever objected to her.

“Have you not presented Shirou with his pieces yet?” Vivian asked.

His pieces?

“Not yet.” Ajuka passed the documents to her. “Here—Runeas’s report on the experiment.”

Vivian accepted the bundle and flipped to the final pages, nodding as she read. “This is good for your Nighthollow Directive.”

“That’s twice now.” Shirou looked between them. “What is the Nighthollow Directive?”

“A directive,” Ajuka said pleasantly.

“Named Nighthollow,” Avalon supplied.

Shirou turned to Runeas. Runeas had discovered a sudden, profound interest in the laboratory’s far wall.

“I shall inform both Mab and Titania of this development,” Vivian declared, as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

Right. He wasn’t getting anything out of them. He filed the name away—Nighthollow, Serafall’s naming, representatives being ‘brought into confidence’—and let it go. For now.

Then everyone turned to him.

He looked back, wary now, as Lady Avalon seized his arm and dragged him toward the arrangement of couches at the laboratory’s centre.

“I’m excited.” Her voice bubbled with barely contained enthusiasm. “I worked quite hard with Ajuka on this project. Well—Rin helped as well.”

“Ah, yes.” Ajuka settled into the opposite couch with the fluid grace of old nobility. “Little Rin is a testament to the Evil Pieces system. Quite an amazing find, Runeas. A genius who could rival my own.” He paused, considering. “She’ll only need a few more centuries to match my experience.”

Runeas shrugged, accepting the praise on Rin’s behalf without comment.

Shirou looked at his own hands. Ajuka had run him through enough tests over the years, and the result never changed: the Evil Pieces simply weren’t compatible with him. Whatever he was, the system wouldn’t take it. He’d made his peace with that.

Mostly.

Everyone arranged themselves around the low table. Ajuka produced two small bags from somewhere within his coat and set them aside—and then the Satan’s manner changed. The showman’s warmth didn’t vanish, exactly. But the room had gone quiet, and Shirou could feel everyone’s anticipation pressing in.

He placed two objects on the polished surface before Shirou, one after the other.

The first was a flat circular disc, crimson in colour. It met the table with a solid thud, denser than it looked.

The second was pentagonal, tapering to a point, carved from pale jade.

Something stirred in Shirou’s circuits.

He leaned forward. On the red disc, a single character: 帥. Shuài. The commander-in-chief.

On the jade: 玉將. Gyokushō. The jewel general—though this one was carved from actual jade instead of the usual lacquered wood.

These weren’t Evil Pieces. The characters belonged to different boards entirely—different games.

“Congratulations.” Ajuka spread his hands in a gesture of presentation. “We have finally solved the Evil Pieces problem for you.” A pause. “Well—‘Evil Pieces’ isn’t exactly accurate. We haven’t settled on a name yet.”

“Serafall’s suggestion was vetoed,” Avalon said solemnly. “Twice.”

Shirou barely heard her. He reached out, and his fingertip came to rest on the jade king.

It was warm. 

-=&o&=-

End

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