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rosanna-writer · 4 months ago

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Karma Is My Boyfriend (1/?)

Summary: Elain Archeron saved countless lives by vanquishing Graysen Nolan, her literal demon of a fiancé. She's a hero, but it's just not fair that being a good witch destined to rid the world of evil has left her tragically, painfully single. Enter Lucien Vanserra, the best cupid in the business, who's been sent by the universe to balance the karmic scales and find Elain the perfect new partner…

Happy Elucien Week! A huge thank you to @popjunkie42 for beta-reading, and my playlist for this fic can be found here. I'm so excited to participate in @elucienweekofficial; we're so lucky to have such a dedicated team of event runners!

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

The new energy in Elain's shop was too sweet to be demonic. It set her teeth on edge—artificial strawberry, discount chocolate, cards fashioned out of glitter glue and construction paper. Nothing at all like the gentle, soothing aura created by the plants lining the aisles of Roots 'n Shoots. Elain felt it following her like a bad smell as she repotted new shipments, packaged online orders, and upsold premium fertilizer to customers who'd wandered in.

By lunchtime, she'd resolved to get rid of it.

Whatever magic was hanging around didn't seem to be a threat, but she hadn't survived three years of fighting evil by taking chances.

She had half a mind to call her sisters for backup; even though Elain was a powerful witch, her premonitions of the future weren't nearly as effective for self-defense as Nesta's telekinesis or Feyre's ability to cause explosions with her mind. But whatever was hanging around didn't seem malicious. Just…cloying.

Elain let her intuition guide her and followed the strange feeling to its source. She walked slowly down an aisle of tall, leafy ferns and kept her eyes peeled.

There—through the leaves, a flash of red. Every molecule in her body seemed drawn right to it, like a compass and a magnetic pole. She hurried towards it.

The flash of red turned out to be long auburn hair pulled into a messy bun. Elain couldn't help but notice the way it gleamed in the sun as she gently pushed a fern leaf to the side to get a better look at the culprit…

And found a mechanical eye staring back.

She squeaked in surprise and jumped backward. The leaf rustled gently as it fell back into place. On instinct, Elain reached deep into her well of power, the same way she did just before vanquishing a demon.

"Well, hello there," the man purred from the other side of the fern.

"Can I help you find something?" Elain said.

He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as radiant. He was gorgeous, and the jagged scar running down the side of his face only seemed to enhance his beauty. Before Graysen, Elain would already have been fluttering her lashes at him.

Now, she just glared in suspicion.

"I think I've found exactly what I'm looking for," he said, which did nothing to set her at ease, even though his expression had gone heartbreakingly soft.

Before Elain could demand answers, he winnowed over to the aisle where she was standing. A risky move—he was lucky there were no mortal customers while the store was closed for her lunch hour.

"Not a single butterfly in that stomach of yours. This is going to be a tough case," he said thoughtfully. He cocked his head, staring at Elain like she was a particularly difficult puzzle he was trying to solve.

"I beg your pardon?" Elain said tightly.

He began circling her like a predator, mechanical eye clicking and whirring. Elain huffed in frustration as her hands settled on her hips. Her strange visitor might not have been a demon, but she didn't have time for anything supernatural with so many orders to fill by the afternoon.

"The meet-cute I engineered just now was some of my best work, but it didn't get your heart fluttering at all. That ex-fiancé left you with quite the wound, didn't he?"

For the last year, Elain walked around with a ragged hole in her heart that refused to close, and to add insult to injury, the entire magical world knew everything about her literal ex from hell. "If you're here to discuss Graysen Nolan, get out of my shop," she said with all the venom she could muster.

"I'm here for you, Elain."

"If you're not an innocent in need of protection, it has to wait."

"Put me to work while we talk, then. I can multitask," he said with an elegant shrug.

She hesitated. The smartest course of action still seemed to be ordering this stranger out of her store, but...she could use the help. And at least he wasn't evil.

Gods, had her standards really sunk that low?

"At least tell me your name." It was irritating that he already seemed to know hers.

He sketched a bow. "Lucien Vanserra, at your service."

"The only service I require at the moment is someone to water my pothos," Elain said with a meaningful nod towards a watering can and row of plants towards the back of the room.

To her surprise, Lucien began filling the watering can without a single complaint. For a moment, Elain watched, telling herself it was to make sure he was doing it correctly—and not at all because he was absurdly beautiful.

She forced herself to turn her attention back to organizing the cards with handwritten care instructions that Roots 'n Shoots included with every houseplant they sold. She could have saved herself time and printed them, but the personal touch was exactly the sort of thing that kept customers coming back to her instead of the big box garden supply store down the road. As she worked, they lapsed into a silence that was almost companionable.

But just as Elain started to relax, Lucien went and opened his mouth again."I thought there might have been an error when the file they gave me said you hadn't had any new partners since Graysen, but now I can see why."

She stilled. "What file?"

"The file that every cupid gets when they're assigned a new charge."

A cupid. Well, that certainly explained why his aura didn't feel demonic, just sickly sweet. Elain had never crossed paths with a cupid before, and she'd been under the impression they were supposed to be a bit more…cute .

"I'm one of your charges?" Technically, Elain was already someone's charge—even after Cassian had broken the rules and married Nesta, he'd remained the guardian angel assigned to protect the Archeron sisters after they'd learned they were witches tasked with ridding the world of evil.

"My only charge, actually. The elders insisted I focus on you and only you, Elain."

"And to what do I owe that honor?"

"You saved the world, and what goes around comes around, sweetie. Offing your demonic fiancé earned you the best and brightest cupid's help with finding a doting new partner."

Lucien said it as if she were supposed to fall over herself in gratitude. But she had half a mind to slap him for the audacity to think he could just waltz into her place of business and treat her like a charity case he'd magnanimously offered to take on.

"A partner is the last thing I need." Elain and her sisters had spent the last several nights rounding up a rogue band of crossroads demons that had been plaguing Velaris's intersections. Casting the vanquishing spells on each street had taken hours, leaving her with precious little time to eat, sleep, and run her store.

It had been the same with the succubi last week, the rabid werewolves the week before, and the banshees they'd spent a whole month rooting out. These days, going on a date was unthinkable.

Lucien rolled his eyes. "You're certainly not going to attract one with that attitude."

That, Elain decided, would be the end of the conversation. She was an Archeron, one of the three most powerful witches ever to walk the earth—not someone who'd allow herself to be condescended to.

All it took was one half-hearted wave of her hand, as if she were brushing away a fly, to activate the wards she'd placed around the shop. Twin vines of pure magic grew from the ceiling, hoisted Lucien up by the armpits, yanked him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto the sidewalk outside. The spell wouldn't let him back in until she changed her mind.

Hopefully, that would be the last she'd hear from Lucien Vanserra.

***

As soon as she got home, Elain marched straight up the stairs of the Archeron manor. She and her sisters had inherited the house—along with their powers and mandate to protect the innocent—three years prior, and the Book of Shadows that never left the attic had guided them through all of it. Instructions for spell casting, potion recipes, taxonomies of every magical creature they might possibly come across…the Book contained it all.

The worn leather bindings creaked as Elain opened it and began searching for the entry on cupids. There wasn't an index; the ancient book was a work in progress by generations of Archeron witches, which meant it was a disorganized mess on a good day. Sometimes, wind would gust from nowhere and just so happen to flip the book to the correct page, but today, she had no such luck.

Hello, Elain.

She jumped, nearly dropping the Book. In her rush to find the entry on cupids, she hadn't noticed the bat hanging upside down from a rafter.

Rhysand—her other, non-angelic brother-in-law. He was a bat shifter that roosted in the attic while the manor had been empty, and though Nesta had been fully prepared to call animal control the night they'd discovered him, Elain had felt horrible throwing him out of his home. But since their family had lost their fortune, the manor was badly in need of expensive repairs, so Feyre struck a bargain: Rhys could stay as long as he paid rent and kept quiet.

He'd married the youngest Archeron sister within a year.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Elain said aloud. Even after years of wielding magic of her own, she'd never gotten used to Rhys's way of speaking mind-to-mind, a power that allowed him to communicate even when he wasn't in a form with proper vocal cords.

He shifted, wings and fur disappearing as he turned back into a man. The claws stayed in place so Rhys could remain inverted—he claimed it did wonders for his back pain.

"You didn't," he said, "and if there's something urgent, I can call Feyre for you."

"It's nothing demonic. At least, I don't think. Do you know anything about cupids?"

Rhys cocked his head, violet eyes sparking with interest. "I've crossed paths with a few over the centuries. They're harmless."

"Are they all that arrogant?"

"Not in my experience."

Elain bit back a frustrated sigh and turned the Book's pages a little more forcefully than necessary. It was bad enough that the Powers That Be had decided that after Graysen, she was so tragically, painfully single that it required divine intervention, but they'd gone the extra mile and sent their biggest asshole of a cupid to "fix" her, too.

"Hopefully there's still a spell I can cast to keep him away."

"Did someone bother you?" Rhys's voice went cold, and suddenly he sounded less like the brother-in-law she badgered about remembering to recycle and more like the terrifying Lord of Nightmares he also was. Elain smiled; it was sweet, in a way—Rhys was fiercely protective of the people he loved.

"Yes, but not like that. Don't go crushing minds on my account."

"What happened?"

"A cupid named Lucien came to my shop today and said he'd been sent to help me find a new partner."

"And I assume you didn't take him up on the offer?"

Elain shook her head. She'd finally found the entry on cupids, which was barely a paragraph long: Benevolent. Responsible for connecting the worthy with their true love.

The worthy. Elain certainly didn't feel worthy, not after her love for Graysen had deluded her into thinking a demon could change. In the end, she'd done the right thing and vanquished him, but…making that choice had nearly torn her apart. She'd come so close to letting him live.

It had been nearly a year, and the sight of Graysen pleading for his life still haunted in her dreams.

"If you hated him that much, I'm sure the cupid elders could always send you another," Rhys said with a wry smile.

"I don't need a cupid. Business is booming at Roots 'n Shoots, and I have my hands full with protecting innocents and corralling you, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta. That's more than enough for me."

"Being busy is all the more reason to accept expert help."

Elain closed the Book of Shadows and glowered at her meddling bastard of a brother-in-law. Rhys smirked back.

She started to go, but a pair of massive, membranous wings erupted from Rhys's back, allowing him to release his talons from the rafter, glide upwards, then land on his feet in one smooth movement. Elain crossed her arms, waiting for him to get out of her way once he'd shifted completely back into his human form.

Despite the irritation that was probably rippling off her in waves, Rhys's expression softened. "More than anyone else I know, you deserve to be happy, Elain. Even if you don't feel like you do."

A lump formed in Elain's throat. That meant a lot, coming from Rhys, who was always staring at Feyre like he couldn't believe his luck. "Love you," she said.

"Love you, too."

Despite all that love, he still didn't move, continuing to block her path to the attic's only exit. "I'm sensing a 'but,' though," Elain said.

"I should warn you that if you don't give things with that cupid a shot, Feyre might try matchmaking you herself. And if Feyre does, then so will Nesta…" He trailed off, letting the implications of her sisters teaming up hang in the air.

"Blackmail is immoral." She felt obligated to point it out, though pesky little things like ethics rarely stopped Rhys.

"Immoral and effective," he said, flashing her one last grin before disappearing into the shadows with a gentle gust of night-kissed wind.

#elucienweek2024 #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #karma is my boyfriend

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rosanna-writer · 4 months ago

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Karma Is My Boyfriend (2/?)

Happy day two of @elucienweekofficial!!! The people I can't thank enough include both the wonderful event organizers and ALSO the friends who generously allowed me to mine their dating app horror stories for fic potential <3

The whole fic can be found Here on AO3, or you can start with chapter one here on tumblr and read the second chapter under the cut.

Lucien was waiting with his feet up on her desk in the back of Roots 'n Shoots the next day. After her conversation with Rhys, Elain had loosened the wards around the store, though she hadn't expected Lucien to just…winnow directly into her office before she arrived.

But he already had steaming cup of her favorite herbal blend ready, so Elain decided not to give him an earful, even though she disliked being relegated to the spare chair she kept for guests.

"Are we on some sort of deadline?" she said, dropping her bag on the floor. "It's still quite early."

Lucien gave another elegant shrug. "I hate burning daylight."

In the past year, the Archeron manor had been full of…well, night people. Elain appreciated that Lucien seemed not to be another one. "Likewise," she said, taking a sip of tea.

He'd stirred in the amount of sugar she preferred, and she decided not to ask whether that information was contained in her file as well. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Lucien produced a cell phone seemingly out of nowhere and held the screen up for her to see. "I've already gotten started on making you a Tinder."

If Elain had been any less of a lady, she would have spat her tea all over him. Lucien was supposed to be an expert at helping people find love—but apparently all he had too offer was a dating app she was perfectly capable of navigating herself.

"It's quite helpful of you to be so on top of it," she said, though the icy chill in her voice made it clear she wasn't grateful at all.

"We'll cover more ground using an app. And with a cupid helping you screen your matches, you're guaranteed not to meet up with any douches, dirtbags, or demons."

Elain hesitated, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. It was true that she'd sworn off dating since Greysen—no matter how much Nesta and Feyre reminded her that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. With a busy shop to run and innocents to save, she'd insisted that she'd rather spend her precious few nights out catching up with friends.

Which was true, of course. But it wasn't the whole story, and the way Lucien's smirk melted into something softer told her he knew it. "You'll be safe with me," he said more gently. "I promise you're in good hands, Elain."

"Thank you," she said, taking the phone from him with a sigh.

Elain scrolled through the beginnings of the profile he'd set up for her. The photos of her seemed to be stolen from Feyre's private Instagram, but her artistic little sister had such a knack for finding good lighting that Elain decided not to question how Lucien had gotten them. His information was accurate, too: 5' 9", interested in both men and women, looking for something serious, plant mom, avid baker, all of it.

"I think this will do," she said.

"Is there anything else I should know before we get started?"

Elain took a moment to consider it—he'd covered everything. Well, almost. "No women named Elaine with two e's."

"Understandable. When I dated before becoming a cupid, I wouldn't touch a Lucian with an a. Moaning your own name in bed feels wrong."

"Exactly," Elain said with a laugh. It was a relief he understood, but at the same time, a bit irritating to find herself warming to him after what an ass he'd been the day before. But then, she thought again about what he said, and… "Cupids can't date?"

His mechanical eye clicked a few times, and she didn't know what to make of it. "It's not strictly forbidden, but that's…not something that's in the cards for me anymore."

There was a finality in his voice that Elain wasn't brave enough to question. Besides, Lucien's love life was hardly her concern, anyway. She handed the phone back to him and let him finish setting up the profile.

Something in Elain's chest went uncomfortably tight as they began looking through matches. Maybe this was a mistake. Surely it was better to stay single forever than to risk another disaster…

Not that she'd be going anywhere with the first man whose profile appeared. His face was hardly visible under the brim of an ill-fitting camo baseball cap, and he was holding up a fish.

She swiped left. And the next profile belonged to another man holding up a fish. And the next. And the next.

After five near-identical profiles of would-be fishermen in a row, Elain was beginning to wonder if there was anyone out there even worth messaging.

She let out a huff of frustration. "Do these people have any other hobbies besides fishing?"

"Clearly none of them are getting assistance from a cupid. Any of us would tell them there are better ways to give off the impression that they're well-endowed," Lucien said, picking at his nails.

"Is— Is that what they're doing?" Elain felt her cheeks go pink despite herself.

"Trying to, at least. And speaking from experience, it's really only impressive when that fish was caught with your bare hands."

Lucien was so….well-groomed that Elain struggled to picture it. He struck her as the sort of person who'd insist the Sidra was disgusting even though plenty of people happily swam in the clear blue river every summer. She couldn't imagine him just wading right into a lake or a stream. "Is it?"

"Those big fishing poles are a crutch for people who aren't skilled with their hands."

Elain couldn't help but glance at his hands. She hadn't quite noticed how big they were when he'd first come into her shop the day before, but now that he was closer, she found herself wondering how much they'd dwarf hers if she interlaced those long, elegant fingers with her own…

Not that it mattered. Lucien was there to help her find true love, not hold her hand.

"I see," she murmured, swiping to the next profile. This man, at least, wasn't holding a fish, which would have been a relief if it wasn't something a million times more mortifying.

Tamlin Springfield—Feyre's ex-fiancé.

He was staring into the camera, a violin tucked under his chin. Elain supposed the expression on his face was meant to be soulful, but truthfully…he just looked constipated.

"Please tell me you aren't insane enough to seriously consider your sister's ex," Lucien said, wrinkling his nose. "I'd rather not deal with the drama."

Elain stilled. "How do you know he's my sister's ex?" There was no way that file was extensive enough to list out her sisters' dating histories, too.

Oh gods, had she been too quick to trust him?

Annoyingly, Lucien just smirked despite the suspicion that had crept into her voice. "Most cupids stopped using arrows a long time ago, but we still learn to shoot because the elders grumble about tradition. Feyre's the most patient archery instructor to come along in centuries, so of course we all pitched in to help her out with Rhysand after that nasty business with Tamlin's curse."

Whatever the cupids did had worked. Last night, Nesta and Cassian were out teaching their weekly judo class, so it had just been Elain at home with Feyre and Rhys, who'd cuddled up on the couch, his wing wrapped around her shoulders while they made disgustingly cute heart eyes at each other. She'd retreated to the kitchen to bake and avoid them.

It still seemed too much to believe that with Lucien's help, she could find love like that, too.

"Well, I'm not matching with him, but hold on a second," Elain said, taking a screenshot and sending it to her sisters.

She quickly muted the chat before Nesta or Feyre had a chance to ask how things were going with Lucien. The last thing she needed was an interrogation.

The next profile after Tamlin's was a woman—and finally, someone who looked promising. In her picture, Briar was standing in a greenhouse, and her smattering of freckles, floppy straw sunhat, and fresh-faced beauty were exactly Elain's type.

There was some sort of audio player embedded on the page. Odd. Elain hadn't seen that before, but perhaps Briar was particularly conscious about making her profile accessible to the visually impaired.

She looked a question at Lucien, who just gave another one of those elegant shrugs she was beginning to suspect were his calling card.

Elain hit play. And the sound of Briar, greeting visitors to her page in a voice that sounded exactly like Kermit the Frog, filled the room. Elain clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. Her eyes slid to Lucien, silently asking him if he was hearing this, too.

He somehow managed to keep a straight face until Briar began to sing, and his shoulders shook with laughter as she painfully warbled her way through "One More Sleep 'til Christmas." Elain couldn't hit pause fast enough.

"I know the conventional wisdom is that you'll have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, but…" Lucien said, trailing off as Elain's giggle grew in to out-and-out laughter.

The fist that seemed to always be clenched around her chest these days loosened just a bit. If Elain wasn't mistaken, she was having…fun. Since Greysen, she'd felt that way so rarely that she'd almost forgotten what it was like.

After a few more quick swipes left, Elain finally paused on the profile of a man who had the kindest blue eyes she'd ever seen. Tarquin Sommers was an oceanographer who spent his free time attending beach cleanups and teaching children to surf.

And it certainly helped that he had a gorgeous, muscular swimmer's body, too.

Elain's finger hovered over the screen, and Lucien noticed, his mechanical eye seeming to whirr with excitement. "Tarquin is a sea witch," he said gently, "so he'll be perfectly understanding of the whole slaying demons thing, if that's your concern."

"That's good to know," Elain said. "He's— He's very pretty."

"And not on the cupids' no-fly list, either. I recommend you start with him."

Elain told herself that the knots in her stomach were just excitement and swiped right.

A few days later, Elain found herself waiting outside a coffee shop—one of the cute local ones that advertised fair trade beans and used biodegradable cups. She was so out of practice that Feyre did her makeup, and her lavender romper had needed several rounds of Nesta's wrinkle-removal spell after being relegated to a heap at the back of her closet for so long.

But Elain made it. She was going to do this.

Lucien was already inside, sipping a dirty chai while pretending to read a book but really keeping an eye on her through the window. He'd offered to keep his distance and give them some privacy, but there was something about his presence that Elain found incredibly reassuring. She'd asked him to stay.

And honestly, he was probably the only reason she hadn't panicked and cancelled at the last minute.

Tarquin greeted her with an easy smile. He'd swapped out the board shorts in his picture for jeans that hugged his ass and a crisp white t-shirt that matched his hair and made his dark skin glow. Elain let him lead her inside.

They ordered their drinks, and somehow, the world didn't end as they made conversation. Elain had been good at this kind of thing, once. Before her life had been demonic crisis after crisis, she'd hosted parties and loved flirting and getting to know new people.

But now, she hardly spent any time with anyone who wasn't Feyre, Nesta, Rhys, or Cassian. She loved her family, but…she'd shut herself away.

It helped that Tarquin seemed like the sort of person who was easy to love. Barely a few minutes into their date, they'd already found common ground in a shared interest in aquatic plants.

In fact, Elain was so interested in coastal seagrass that she excitedly gestured with her cup. The lid went flying, and suddenly Tarquin's white shirt had a bright green matcha stain that extended all the way from his collar to his hem.

Elain wanted to disappear on the spot. She should have just accepted that she couldn't date without mucking everything up, and it was better to cut this short while the mess was still small enough that it could be taken care of with bleach instead of a vanquishing spell so complex it drained all of her power for weeks afterward. She'd been so monumentally stupid for—

Lucien caught her eye from across the café. "Elain," he said gently, but still loud enough that his voice carried to her. "It's quite alright."

Something inside her settled. She managed a weak smile in his direction. Lucien grinned back, snapped his fingers, and then Elain found herself in the same spot she'd been thirty seconds prior.

Their drinks weren't finished yet. Tarquin's shirt was still perfectly clean.

Lucien had turned back time to fix her date.

Elain repeated what she'd already said about seagrass meadows, and Tarquin didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. This time, she was careful not to spill her drink as they talked.

The whole thing was…nice. Tarquin's stories about swimming with dolphins back home in Adriata were charming, and he listened with intent, genuine interest as Elain explained how the ratio of white to brown sugar in a cookie recipe affected the texture of the final product. And he was even better-looking in person.

But still, a spark was missing. When it was time to leave, Elain turned her head at the last moment so that the goodbye kiss intended for her lips landed on her cheek instead.

Lucien was already in the living room of the Archeron manor when Elain winnowed home that evening—somehow, he'd secured a dinner invite from Nesta. He was lounging on their sofa, looking strangely at home as he fixed the fletching on one of Feyre's arrows. His auburn hair looked molten in the golden hour light streaming in from the windows.

"Well?" he said, looking up as she walked in.

"It was good," Elain said.

Lucien turned to face her fully, placing his feet flat on the floor and his hands on his knees. He tilted his head, and the glint of metal in his golden eye looked strangely predatory. "Just good?"

A pleasant shiver skittered its way down Elain's spine. "Yes."

"We should be doing a hell of a lot better than 'just good.'"

He stood, tapping the arrow on his palm as he approached her. His gaze traveled slowly down her body, and Elain's throat bobbed. Lucien came closer and closer, until she could feel heat radiating off of him.

A spark had been missing with Tarquin earlier, but Lucien was a gods-damned inferno of a cupid.

"Should we?" Elain breathed.

"I'm not giving up until you've been thoroughly swept off your feet. You deserve nothing less. But I think you're blocked, and it's time to try a different approach."

Before she could ask what that meant, Feyre called them into the kitchen for dinner.

#elucienweek2024 #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #karma is my boyfriend

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