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

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Ch. 1.2 

Sheathing Protocols

Disclaimer: Everyone here is at least 18 years of age. In Japan, students are typically 18 years old during their last year of high school. So all scenes of a sexual nature were done between consenting adults. 

But to be safe, let’s add an addendum: this is a major AU. After Senior High School, students generally go to an academy for one to three years to take general subjects, think honestly about what they want, and prepare for higher education, or take vocational courses. This will take place during that period.

Shirou’s base level ' Charm’ is more akin to a Veela’s aura; it lowers the inhibitions of people who are attracted to Shirou, but ultimately, it’s up to them whether they want to act on it. It also depends on their general level of promiscuity.

In this story, both Sakura and Rin are fraternal twins, and I’m not going through the Illya-is-a-legal-loli route, nor will I ever—not that there’s any wrong with young-looking or petite adults. 

To Patreon Staff: Shirou and Taiga aren’t brother and sisters; they just grew up together...

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

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Ch. 1.3 

Sheathing Protocols

Disclaimer: Everyone here is at least 18 years of age. In Japan, students are typically 18 years old during their last year of high school. So all scenes of a sexual nature were done between consenting adults. 

But to be safe, let’s add an addendum: this is a major AU. After Senior High School, students generally go to an academy for one to three years to take general subjects, think honestly about what they want, and prepare for higher education, or take vocational courses. This will take place during that period.

Shirou’s base level ' Charm’ is more akin to a Veela’s aura; it lowers the inhibitions of people who are attracted to Shirou, but ultimately, it’s up to them whether they want to act on it. It also depends on their general level of promiscuity.

In this story, both Sakura and Rin are fraternal twins, and I’m not going through the Illya-is-a-legal-loli route, nor will I ever—not that there’s any wrong with young-looking or petite adults. 

'So… this is awkward,' Shirou thought, the understatement of the century echoing through his mind as he maintained his seiza position. His knees pressed against the tatami flooring with increasing discomfort, the woven straw digging into his skin with every passing second, a constant reminder of the utterly mortifying situation he'd found himself in.

Here he sat, attempting to preserve some shred of dignity after that utterly passionate romp with his former homeroom teacher—the annoyingly energetic pseudo-older sister who had barged into his life, a consequence of Kiritsugu having contacts with the local mafia—and the unapologetic mooch who seemed to think his home was some sort of all-you-can-eat establishment. The memory of what they'd done, of how they'd basically debased the sacred area of his kitchen, sent heat rushing to his face in a fresh wave of mortification.

The way they'd sprayed their release across every surface as if an artery had been severed, marking his territory with their shameless desire in glistening trails that still haunted his imagination despite the magical cleanup…

The kitchen counter, the carefully prepared dashi he'd spent the morning perfecting with such reverence, and even the ingredients he'd already meticulously cut with his best gyuto knife—all of it had been thoroughly contaminated by their unbridled lust. That was putting things lightly, he thought with no small amount of internal despair, the phantom scent of their coupling still lingering in his nostrils.

Thankfully, the situation had been easily reversed when Rin had snapped her fingers—mirroring Runeas's actions a few minutes before—with that infuriatingly smug expression on her face, magic rippling through the air like cool water to cleanse every surface of their mingled bodily fluids, leaving the kitchen pristine once more.

Though, naturally, for Rin's own twisted amusement, she'd deliberately left his own fluid-soaked clothes in their sullied state.

So here he was now, completely naked, his still-stiff member hidden beneath his strategically positioned hands as he clung desperately to some sense of decency in front of this assembled audience. His legs were already turning numb from holding this formal position for so long, pins and needles beginning their cruel march up his calves like fire ants under his skin.

Meanwhile, Taiga remained shamelessly dressed—if one could call it that—in her scandalously revealing lingerie, her modest breasts jiggling with every animated gesture, rosy nipples completely exposed to the air as she cheerfully asked Sakura for another helping of rice as though nothing remotely unusual had transpired.

Shirou winced as he brought another piece of the salmon to his mouth. The piece of broiled cured meat was perfect—the taste, the texture, the flaky tenderness—the problem was the lingering traces of devil magic on the fish. Typically, this wouldn't be a problem, but Shirou's nose was particularly sensitive to anything magical, a type of synaesthesia where he associated certain smells with different kinds of magic. And with every bite came a particular sulphuric aftertaste as he chewed the fish, a faint reminder of Runeas's intervention that made his stomach twist and his cheeks burn anew...

Release that Witch…

and Wizard?!

Disclaimer: All characters here are at least 18. Hogwarts starts later, so by the time Harry arrives, he’s 19. Cheng Yen (陈嫣) was in her mid-20s before waking up in the 21-year-old body of Garcia Wimbledon. Witches gain their first awakening upon adulthood, at 18 years of age.

Story Starts

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Chapter 4.2 -

Understanding

and the Start of a New Dawn

A solitary cottage stood in the castle's secluded backyard, its weathered facade clad in rough-hewn planks that creaked faintly. Two small square windows peered out, glass fogged with age and webbed with cracks. An oval pond lay before it, perhaps eight metres across, its surface mirroring the overcast sky in muted grey. River water filled it, carrying a faint earthy scent that mixed with damp moss underfoot.

Beside the cottage stood a splintered wooden table, its surface worn rough by weather. Harry lounged nearby in typical irreverence—long legs sprawled, black coat on his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. His voice carried, too distant to catch words. Smoke tang drifted from Anna's trembling fingers as delicate flame flickered above her palm, shadows dancing across hollow cheeks.

Princess Garcia's retinue clustered nearby, tension thick in the air. The Assistant Minister of Finance, Barov, shuffled his feet nervously on the damp grass, his white robes rustling as he wiped sweat from his furrowed brow despite the morning chill. Chief Knight Carter Lannis stood rigid at attention, one broad hand resting on his sword hilt, his unfortunate chin beard twitching with poorly concealed suspicion. Behind them, the rustle of starched aprons and the faint clatter of silverware accompanied the maids as they manoeuvred their laden breakfast carts around the uneven ground, the scent of fresh bread and smoked meats cutting through the musty pond air.

Then Anna's flames flared wildly, engulfing her body in a column of fire. Garcia rushed forward despite her retinue's protests, and Carter Lannis moved instinctively to follow, one hand already reaching for his princess even as the other drew his sword.

The flames vanished as suddenly as they'd erupted, leaving Anna standing unharmed amidst wisps of curling steam. Her pale skin glowed faintly in the morning light, though there was no trace of burns or soot. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the sunlight with an otherworldly sheen.

Gone were the previous night's tattered remnants of her prison garb. In their place, she now wore a peculiar yet elegant uniform: a crisp white blouse with a short black pleated skirt, a tailored black robe draped over her slender frame, and a scarlet tie knotted at her throat.

At the questioning looks from everyone, Harry explained with a casual wave, "I cast an Impervious Charm on her clothing. Whilst Anna here doesn't particularly care about modesty—though let's be honest, I do have some sense of propriety—replacing her clothes every time her flames flare up is a hassle." His tone was light, almost flippant, suggesting it was a practical solution rather than a genuine concern...

The World of Otome Game

 is a Second Chance for Broken Swords

Story Starts

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Chapter 4 -

The Villainess and the 

Protagonist's Userper

Several weeks drifted past after the entrance ceremony. Since Leon and his companions had made the deliberate decision not to draw attention to themselves, their days settled into a predictable rhythm of lectures, meals, and quiet evenings in the dormitory. Olivia often caught herself sighing as she mumbled about yuri, harems, and being his mistress—but Leon ignored all of it.

Leon, for his part, was perfectly content with their low profile. Without Olivia vying for the prince's and his retinue's affection, the academy remained blissfully free of the dramatic upheavals he'd initially braced himself for when he'd struck out for independence.

Instead, he focused on the predictable comfort of routine—attending classes, discreetly preparing for future dungeon expeditions, and managing estate correspondence with Luxion's help and the two guardian spirits he'd left behind at the barony.

Marriage lingered at the back of his mind, a necessary obligation rather than a romantic pursuit. He wasn't naïve enough to expect love, but mutual respect—or at least a pragmatic alliance—would suffice. Not that he wouldn't want to experience love again, but even eighteen years after their deaths, he wasn't certain he'd ever move on.

His guardian spirits didn't help matters. A pang of guilt lanced through him at the memory of their dejected faces when he'd explained that he couldn't bring them to the academy until he'd secured a wife.

The imbalance in the treatment of the sexes at this academy was absurd. A woman could maintain countless male attendants and guardian spirits without reproach, but a man with even a single female guardian spirit risked scorn. In fact, most contracted guardian spirits in the kingdom were primarily male, given that contractors could choose the form their spirits assumed upon sealing the contract.

As for him, he hadn't forced his guardian spirit into anything; he'd simply allowed it whatever form it preferred.

Leon shook his head as his thoughts wandered. Olivia, by his side, tilted her head in curiosity, but he waved her off.

Anyway, his new title as a Rank 7 Baron complicated matters. Social expectations dictated that he find a wife befitting his station, though the options were... peculiar. At the lowest rung, he could consider the eldest daughter of a baronet; at best, a viscount's illegitimate daughter might be persuaded, provided the family didn't find the match beneath them. The whole system baffled him—how was a non-hereditary barony more prestigious than an inheritable baronetcy? Then again, nobility thrived on such contradictions.

At least dormitory life offered some respite. Much to his surprise, Daniel and Raymond had gradually shed their initial wariness, bonding over their shared predicament as minor nobles navigating the kingdom's marriage expectations.

Their tentative friendship even extended to Olivia now, despite their earlier disdain for a commoner infiltrating their ranks. Leon caught them more than once seeking her advice—whether about coursework or magic, she was easily top of the year in the latter.

Still, as days bled into weeks, Leon couldn't ignore the nagging sense that this peace was just a prelude. 'We've kept our heads down. Olivia's staying away from the prince and his friends. So why does it feel like something's coming?'...

The World of Otome Game

 is a Second Chance for Broken Swords

Story Starts

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Chapter 5.3 -

Cosmic Dungeon

Angelica surveyed the vast expanse of the sixth floor, and the sheer scale of it struck her with renewed force that made her breath catch in her throat. Unlike the previous chambers, which had towered vertiginously overhead—fifteen to eighteen kilometres of vertical space that made her head swim and stomach lurch when she'd first taken the reckless dive alongside Olivia and her group, that initial plunge into the dungeon's depths that had felt like falling forever.

Here, the ceiling loomed only about three kilometres distant, yet the horizontal stretch sprawled across fifteen to twenty kilometres. The proportions felt somehow more oppressive despite technically containing similar volume to the previous floors—as though the weight of all that space pressed down sideways rather than from above.

Leon had already begun marking the perimeter with his bow and arrow, establishing the boundaries of the battle to prevent anyone from being suddenly boxed in during the chaos of combat. Each arrow he loosed embedded itself in the crystalline, transparent walls with perfect spacing, creating a visible boundary line that glowed faintly where the projectiles pierced stone.

She watched him work from her position near where Olivia was organising their supplies—provided by the floating ball of lost technology who didn't want to be called a familiar, who insisted on being addressed by name as Luxion despite the clear parallel to contracted spirits.

She noted the sheer size of the bow—easily as tall as he was, possibly taller when fully extended—and the strain it placed on the one wielding it, muscles in his arms and back visible through his tight-fitting black coat that left his arms bare, the reinforced material clinging to his frame in a way that suggested it was designed for mobility rather than protection. The coat's high collar and silver clasps caught the chamber's ambient light with each movement, whilst the crimson inner lining occasionally flashed when he drew the bow, revealing the contrasting colour beneath.

His clothing had been torn badly in the aftermath of the second-floor boss—she remembered the shredded fabric, the blood—but was now repaired through his magic, restored as though the damage had never occurred...