Lucien Vanserra x springcourt!reader (Tamlin’s sister)
Summary: after a mortal female is in your court and your brother takes interest. You and his friend and emissary decide to help take your mind off of the curse at hand.
Warnings: forbidden relationship?, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk
Authors note: I’m a slut for the Vanserra brothers, if you can’t tell. I might do a second part to this after everything like during the third book… lmk if you guys would like that.
For centuries, Lucien Vanserra had been in your brother’s court, long before he had even become High Lord. After your brother rose to power, Lucien became the court’s emissary—respected, feared, and endlessly cunning. You, on the other hand, had always stayed in the background. Your family never believed females should involve themselves in the workings of a court ruled by men. Occasionally, you’d join Lucien on hunts, but those moments were rare, stolen slices of freedom that reminded you of a life beyond duty and expectation.
You cared for Lucien more than you ever admitted, even to yourself. Every glance, every fleeting touch, every shared hunt left your heart tightening with a yearning you hadn’t dared speak aloud. You wished, so often, that you could tell him how much he meant to you, how the sight of him still stirred something fierce and tender inside you after all these years. But words had always failed, and the court’s eyes were never forgiving of female desire.
Returning from the village, your thoughts were on nothing more than a simple meal and the quiet of home. The late afternoon sun spilled through the hallways, warm and comforting, until you noticed something off—a figure moving in the shadows.
A mortal female, wandering the halls, paused mid-step when she saw you. Your pulse quickened. Intruders weren’t common here—not of her kind, not within these walls.
Before you could gather your thoughts, you spun toward your brother’s office. But Lucien was there, as if he had known all along.
“You might want to slow down, little fox,” he murmured, catching you against his chest.
The nickname sent a shiver down your spine. Only he called you that. Your fire, your defiance, the spark that had reminded him of home centuries ago—he had never forgotten.
You pointed down the hall, toward the direction the mortal had gone. Lucien’s amber eyes followed, sharp and calculating.
“Might wanna talk to Tam,” he said softly, releasing just enough for you to move but keeping a protective tension lingering.
You nodded, your chest tight, and made your way to your brother’s office. The door swung open before you could knock. Tamlin’s smile greeted you warmly, but his eyes immediately flicked to Lucien’s hand still lingering at your waist. The warmth of that touch and your brother’s sharp glare created a tension that twisted in your chest.
“Who is that female?” you whispered, voice trembling.
Tamlin sighed, his gaze briefly dropping before meeting yours again. He began to explain what had happened—the sacrifices, the choices, the cost that had been paid.
Your eyes widened in disbelief. “He… he died?”
Tamlin nodded, solemn. “It was the sacrifice he had to make.”
You gave a slow, heavy nod, the sorrow pressing on your chest. The loss, though expected, still stung.
Then, the familiar ding of the dinner bell echoed through the hall. You let out a soft, resigned sigh, stepping away from Lucien’s arms, from the protective warmth you’d leaned on without realizing it. Life demanded its rhythm, even amidst grief. You followed the sound of the bell, carrying the weight of loss quietly with you.
A week had passed since the unsettling discovery of the mortal in your home. Feyre, as you’d learned her name, had slowly become part of your routines—sometimes too much for your liking. She now joined you and Lucien on hunts, her presence a constant, cheerful intrusion. You wished it were otherwise, but there was no stopping her enthusiasm.
Still, in the quiet moments, you could see it—a small spark of life behind the fox mask cursed onto his face by Amarantha. You had your own mask, gold with delicate pink flowers edging it. Lucien had once told you how much he missed seeing your eyes widen at his words, the expression now hidden beneath the mask. And yet, even with the barrier, the subtle flicker in his gaze reminded you of the Lucien beneath it all.
The hunt ended, and Feyre went off toward the village path, leaving you alone to tend your horse. Your hands moved automatically, combing through the mane, when you felt it—the weight of eyes on you.
You turned. Lucien stood there, watching, his amber gaze careful and assessing.
“What?” you whispered, heart tightening.
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You didn’t talk much.”
You gave a small shrug, lowering your gaze. “Didn’t have much to say.”
Lucien laughed softly, the sound like wind through the treetops. He stepped closer, closing the distance until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You always have a lot to say, little fox,” he murmured, voice teasing. “What, you’re scared to say it around that girl?”
You shook your head, though the memory of Feyre’s presence made your pulse quicken.
Lucien tilted your chin upward, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Good,” he said, amber gaze sharp and commanding. “I don’t want a mortal girl coming in here thinking she can take away my little fox voice.”
The possessiveness in his tone made you shiver, and the word my wrapped around you like fire, thrilling and frightening all at once. You looked away quickly, trying to steady your racing heart. “We should get some lunch,” you whispered, voice low.
Lucien’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. He held his arm out, patient and steady, and you slipped your hand into his. The warmth of him anchored you, even as your cheeks flamed under the intensity of his gaze.
The world felt smaller somehow, contained between the two of you, even with Feyre wandering in your periphery. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself a quiet, dangerous hope that maybe—just maybe—some things were still yours to claim.
When the two of you finally made it to the dinning hall, you noticed that Feyre had decided to join you all for lunch today as well. Feyre had now joined you and your family at every meal—breakfast, lunch, or dinner. You took notice of the small but definite weight she was gaining and felt a quiet relief. She no longer looked as sickly and fragile as when she first arrived.
But you couldn’t help noticing the way your brother’s eyes lingered on her. The kind of gaze that made your chest tighten, the kind you wished someone would give to you—especially someone with a certain fox mask and long red hair.
After lunch ended, you helped the servants gather the plates and clear the table. Just as you set the last one down, a familiar, sharp voice called your name.
Sighing, you walked toward the sound, only for Lucien to catch your arm and tug you into his chambers.
Groaning, you dropped onto his bed and watched him pace, hands clasped behind his back.
“Can you stop pacing? It’s making me feel sick just watching you,” you grumbled.
Lucien stopped mid-step, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Have you noticed Feyre?”
Your stomach lurched. Not your brother… not your long-standing crush too, you thought. Surely he wasn’t…
“It’s hard not to,” you admitted, voice quiet. “A mortal girl in Fae lands…”
He nodded slowly, amber eyes sharp and calculating. “And have you noticed how Tam looks at her?”
You nodded again, unsure what he was getting at. “Where are you going with this, Lu?” you mumbled.
Lucien held his hands out to you. You hesitated, then took them, standing at his side.
“What if Feyre is the one?” he whispered.
It took a moment for your mind to catch up. The one to break the curse. The Fox-mask curse that had hidden so much of your life, your voice, your joy.
Your eyes widened. A smile spread across your face, brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window. “We could be free!” You threw your arms around him, laughing and gripping him tightly.
Lucien held you close, nodding once. “We could.”
When you leaned back, still flushed with excitement, he pulled you closer again, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me no, little fox.”
You shook your head, whispering breathlessly, “Please…”
The hesitation, the longing, the decades of almost-kisses—all of it vanished as he closed the gap. Lips met yours, slow at first, testing, tasting, then with growing urgency. You moaned against him, heart racing, hands threading into his hair.
Finally, after years of restraint, the fire between you ignited. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, every inch of you pressed against him. Every touch, every moan, every whispered plea released decades of tension, the walls you both had built around your hearts crumbling in the heat of the moment.
Your lips crash together in a frenzy of pent-up fire, tongues battling as hands roam wild. Lucien's fingers yank at your blouse, buttons scattering like stars across the floor, fabric tearing free to bare your breasts. You shove his tunic up and over his head, nails raking down his scarred chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the rapid thump of his heart.
Pants next—yours shoved down your thighs, kicked away; his belt unbuckled with frantic tugs, cock springing free, thick and veined, flushed dark with need. Boots thud off, undergarments flung aside. Naked now, skin slick with sweat, you straddle his lap on the bed, grinding your dripping pussy against his cock—hot, hard length sliding through your folds, coating him in your arousal.
“Fuck, little fox,” Lucien groans, hands gripping your hips, guiding the slick grind. Both of you moaning low and filthy, the friction building that delicious ache, your clit throbbing against his shaft.
In a blur of motion, he flips you onto your back, settling between your spread thighs. His amber eyes rake over you, his fox mask mirroring your golden one in this wild secret. “Gods, what would your brother say?” he mumbles, voice rough with lust, “seeing you all spread out like this for his best friend... pussy glistening, begging for it.”
You moan, arching up, tits bouncing as his finger brushes your swollen clit—light, teasing circles that make your hips buck. Sparks shoot through you, core clenching desperately.
Lucien chuckles, dark and smug, leaning in close. “You want this so bad, little fox. Dripping for me already.”
You nod wildly, panting. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. “You’re gonna get it, you needy fox,” he growls against your mouth, nipping your lip.
“Lucien,” you moan, voice breaking. “Fuck me... please.”
He coos softly, thumb still circling your clit. “Oh, baby, gotta stretch you out first. Can’t have you breaking on my cock too soon.” Two fingers slide into your soaked heat—easy, slick—curling deep, pumping slow. You clench around him instantly, walls fluttering, and he chuckles again, breath hot on your neck. “Eager little thing.”
When he adds a third, stretching you wider, the burn so good, you buck up, begging. “Lucien—fuck, let me come—”
He silences you with a deep kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in rhythm with his fingers. “Baby, gotta be quiet,” he murmurs, smirking. “Can’t have anyone hearing how much of a needy slut you are, huh? Moaning like that for me.”
You shake your head, whispering desperately, “Fuck me, Lu. I need you.”
Lucien nods, eyes blazing behind his mask. He slips his fingers out—wet, glistening—and lines up his cock, thick head nudging your entrance. Leaning down, he kisses you slow and deep as he thrusts in—both of you moaning into each other's mouths, the stretch exquisite, your pussy gripping him like a vice, pulling him deeper until he's seated to the hilt, balls pressed to your ass.
You reach up, tugging his long red hair hard, yanking his head back to stare into his eyes through the masks—fire meeting fire. He smirks, wicked, and starts fucking you—hard, relentless snaps of his hips, bedframe slamming the wall. His mouth descends, sucking bruises into your neck, collarbone, tits—marking you up, teeth grazing. “Everyone knows who you belong to now,” he growls, pounding deeper, cock dragging over every sensitive spot.
You nod, lost in it, and he pinches your clit sharply—zap of pleasure-pain. “Who do you belong to, little fox?”
You squeal, back arching. “You, Lucien! Fuck—always belonged to you!”
Lucien kisses you fierce. “That’s right, baby.” His thrusts turn brutal, grinding against your clit with every plunge.
It hits like wildfire—you both shatter at once, your pussy clamping down, milking him as you come with a muffled cry, gushing around his cock. He roars low, flooding you with hot spurts of cum, hips stuttering, bodies locked in trembling ecstasy.
After a minute, panting, Lucien slipped out of you, leaving behind the slick evidence of your shared release. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, amber eyes soft even behind the fox mask. Rolling onto his side, he tugged the thin covers over your sweat-slick, naked bodies, his arm draping possessively over your waist. “Mine,” he whispered, the word heavy with everything he had held back for centuries. The fox mask caught the dim light, glinting as he pulled you closer.
Morning came slowly. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, and you stirred, opening your eyes to find Lucien still beside you. A smile tugged at your lips. Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to the bridge of his mask-covered nose, inhaling the faint scent of him.
As you leaned back, your chest tightened and your eyes widened—the bond between you had snapped into him.
Your soul started to scream out loud. Mate, mate, mate.
“My mate,” you whispered, brushing his long hair behind his ears.
Lucien’s amber eyes shot open, a flicker of shock crossing his features. “What?” he breathed.
You felt the tug again, warmth and certainty threading through you. “It… it snapped,” you whispered.
His lips curved into a slow, victorious smile. Without a word, he leaned down, capturing yours in a deep, consuming kiss. You moaned, pushing against him briefly. “What about my brother?”
Lucien paused, gaze serious beneath the mask, before murmuring, “We can keep this to ourselves, if you want. But you’re my mate, little fox. You come before anyone.”
You nodded, still trembling from the revelation. “I… I can’t believe…”
“Gods, I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with relief and possessiveness.
Your eyes widened, tears of wonder prickling at the corners. “I… I love you too,” you breathed back, the words tasting like freedom.
For a long moment, you simply held each other, letting the weight of centuries melt away. Outside, the world continued, problems and expectations waiting—but here, in the quiet of the bed, nothing else mattered. You were his, he was yours, and the bond between you was finally whole.
You settled back under the covers, wrapped around one another, bodies and hearts entwined, letting the warmth and certainty of the connection between you shield you from everything else.
The day stretched lazily around you both. Even as the world outside waited with its duties and expectations, you and Lucien remained cocooned in the quiet of your chambers. He was gentle yet possessive, every touch, every brush of his fingers along your skin a reminder of the bond you now shared.
He teased you endlessly, brushing your hair back with fingers that seemed to memorize every strand, letting his lips graze your neck just enough to make your pulse spike. You laughed, a sound free from the caution that had marked decades of restraint. Every stolen glance, every whispered word, every small touch was electric, and the weight of centuries of longing dissolved in the warmth of his presence.
You played with the fox mask he wore, running your fingers over the curve, and he caught your hand mid-motion, amber eyes twinkling beneath the mask. “Careful,” he murmured. “That mask hides centuries of fire… but it doesn’t hide your voice from me anymore, little fox.”
You shivered at the possessiveness in his tone, leaning into him, letting him pull you closer. He kissed you again, slow, insistent, grounding you, claiming you in every way that mattered. And you responded in kind, pressing your body to his, the world outside fading until it was only the two of you and the heat of your shared bond.
At one point, you paused, hearts still racing, foreheads pressed together. You traced the line of his jaw, voice soft and awed. “This… us… this is how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”
Lucien’s smile was slow, content, and entirely sure. “Yes,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “After centuries of almost, after everything, this… you being my mate… it’s the only thing that’s made sense. Even if we must keep it a secret, it’s ours.”
A thrill ran through you at the thought—Lucien as your mate, his possessiveness, his warmth, his fire… all yours. The secrecy didn’t scare you; it only made every glance, every touch, every whispered word more exciting.
You pressed a lingering kiss to his mask, then nestled against him, the rhythm of his heartbeat syncing with your own. “I’ve waited centuries for this,” you whispered, voice soft. “And now… now I can’t wait for the days to come.”
Lucien pulled you impossibly closer, amber eyes glowing with amusement and desire. “Nor can I, little fox,” he murmured. “Nor can I.”
And in that quiet, in the intimacy of your hidden bond, you knew that for the first time in centuries, something—someone—made perfect sense.
The world outside could wait. You had each other, your mate, and that was enough to make everything right.
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