#and neyhehehehe Diarra

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Synopsis: You go on a date with Fuegoleon, a man, who dresses smart, but is being vague about a lot of things. Like he can’t tell you something. Through an event, you learn that he is a leader of a biker gang, and is using the money he’s making with his company to fund it. But. He can’t mix these two worlds. Too much at least. Perhaps you are the one to entice this mysterious, gentlemanly and alluring man.  

Pairing: Fuegoleon Vermillion x f!reader

Type: Biker!AU mini series

Warnings: eventual smut, suggestive themes, sexual themes, otherwise general/angst/fluff at a canon typical level

Chapter length: ~1.1k

Tag list: @spark-gem  @just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @hybridanafrost

Chapter 2: The King of Fire

Cool air. Silence. Everywhere but the one coming from my heels hitting against the asphalt of the road underneath me.

There’s the metallic, popping sound as I open the hood of my car and look inside. Yeah… the engine is still in there… I sigh.

That’s about what I can see from looking at it. Actually, I have no clue about why I had to open the hood in the first place. The user manual didn’t provide me with any answers, and … I guess I was hoping that there was some magical button hidden at the side of the engine saying ‘press here’.

But. No such button exists. And so, I close the hood.

I close it and curse.

I curse because I have never been in this situation. My car has been working flawlessly, and now, all of a sudden, it decides to just slow down and die on me.

Well, suppose it’s better than crashing into something.

I sigh again. And I place my hand onto my temple. Because of course my phone ran out of battery 15 minutes ago.

Damn that prolonged meeting… I curse to myself again, because I wasn’t supposed to be on my way back home at this time. That’s why I didn’t bring a charger. I was supposed to be back home hours ago. And because I live alone, no one’s missing me until for work tomorrow morning.

There are no cars going by… but then again, I’m not that far from home either… It’s… half a mile, I think. It absolutely sucks having to walk it in heels at this hour, but it’s doable.

It’s doable… I shake my head, open the passenger side door to grab my bag and manually close the doors.

I can do this, I tell myself again. Most likely I’ll get home without seeing anyone, it’s a quiet neighbourhood, after all.

But the idea does very little my annoyance, or the soreness of my feet.

It’s… been such a long day already. I was just looking to get home, take a bath… I don’t have to be in the office before noon tomorrow, luckily, but that… doesn’t do much now. Though it means that I still have time to sleep, even if getting home takes longer.

My thoughts are interrupted by the growl of an engine. Not one of a car, this one is more aggressive; sounding much like a starving beast in the dead of a night. But the light behind me isn’t gleaming eyes, it’s the headlight of a motorcycle.

Though… as the sound begins to come closer, while growing more quiet, there’s tension building up in my chest that makes my heart race. Because, what the approaching sound tells me, is that the motorcycle is slowing down, next to me.

I try to calm my breath. I try to concentrate on my racing heart. And I try, I try so very hard to think about what to do, as the vehicle slides past me, slowly, and stops just a few feet in front of me.

And I stop too.

The motorcycle is deep red, almost black in the faint, almost none-existent light around. It’s of a modern look, fine make, and on the side, there is an image of a dragon, golden lions on the rims.

Those images, symbols, they tell me all that I need to know. This particular bike belongs to the Crimson Lions motorcycle gang, led by the King of Fire. And their reputation is… it largely depends on who you ask.

Some say that they’re good people, trying to just do their fair share to keep the streets safe. And some say that it’s just a lie, to try and aid them in getting away with their crimes.

Me, I don’t know what to think. I know the rumours, and the stories; and I think there are stories about their good deeds, and gossip about how the stories are just that: stories.

But. Stories can be fables.

However, the man, dressed in black leather and a black helmet that covers his entire face, isn’t a fable. He’s very real. And his shoulders are broad, muscular, judging from the way his jacket fits him. It seems to hug him, but not squeeze. It allows him to move, while showing what his physique is made of.

He is strong.

I am not.

I don’t know what to expect.

And then he gets off the bike, standing on the road, rather than on the sidewalk, like I am. His bike is left between us, which, in all honesty, makes me feel slightly better. Because there is that barrier.

But my heart is still racing. Because this situation is odd. It really is.

I don’t like this, but it’s… I’m not running. Yet. Though I’m not sure what good it’d do, and I’m fairly confident that I could take a run for it; I’m not frozen in place. I’m still standing.

His hands rise to his helmet, as if time was slowing down. Or maybe it’s just because of how I’ve been breathing; forgetting to take breaths.

There’s… long hair, falling from inside the helmet. Like brilliant copper, or perhaps vermillion…

It-, can’t… be… I manage to think as the locks, fall onto the black leather of the jacket.

But. Once the helmet is off, I do recognize the man in front of me. And it’s not because of the rumours I’ve heard of the King of Fire. It’s not because I’ve heard that he is tough, as if he’d be forged in the very flames that kissed his hair. It’s not because of the stories I’ve heard about how his eyes are dark and unwavering; that the King of Fire is truly a king. Prideful, determined, and driven.

It’s not because I’ve been told that he fights like a ferocious lion. That he won a fight against 10 men, singlehandedly. That many have tried to take his life, but still he lives. Because he is forged of fire itself, and he cannot be killed. The man’s a myth, a legend, more than anything.

It’s not because of the stories I’ve heard… about how he is dangerous.

However, it is because he sat in front of me, just a few days ago.

It’s because a few days ago, he sat there, in his suit, without a tie, wearing a golden wrist watch, and introduced himself as Fuegoleon Vermillion, the CEO of the Lion King Enterprises.

#fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #black clover fanfiction #the knight in a leather armour #and yes Carmen with this I decided 'both' when thinking about if it's leather or a suit #because. the. man. can. have. both! #he is a leather jacket and a silk tie #and neyhehehehe Diarra #and oh yes I did #glad to hear that you both like it