♡ Whittle It Down ♡ // Whitty x reader

Chapter 1

"Same suffering, different day."

With their keys thrown between their hands, y/n set off down the path. Blowing in the wind, their hair brushed over their face, briefly parting to the sight of rushing traffic. Orange leaves scattered the concrete, leaving a nice contrast of colours. Reds, oranges and a few yellows, overlapping and flowing across the ground. The dead foliage, accompanied with a slight crunch at every step, was a calming sensation. 

Concerned if they had remembered everything, y/n reached into their pocket to find a list on a scrap of paper. Additionally, there were two crumbled up plastic bags, a phone and a small amount of money.

Sighing, they pulled out their phone, switching between the same three apps. "Let's hope this time I'll be able to afford everything..."

Their eyes drooped low as they glanced around at the street signs, their breath hesitant. One, an ad for half priced sushi; another, a car sale. In their wake, a strong current of wind sent y/n stumbling into a semi-hidden alleyway. Disgustingly, it smelt of soggy cardboard, paired with a few dumpsters of rotting trash. Abandoned posters stuck to the damp walls like glue, with moss and dewy mold clinging onto the concrete. Groaning in pain, agony coursed throughout y/n's body. An abrupt shaking sound encircled them.

"Shit."

Dragged up off the ground, their eyes shot open. Standing above them was a strange being - tall, toned and tempered -  , his arms crossed. "What are you doing here?" His voice had a rough yet electric feel. Too shocked to realise what was happening, y/n examined the figure. A tall, yet muscular body, barely concealed by a teal hoodie and orange pants. His bright warm shoes looked top of the line. However, his face was unusual. A black bomb, the kind you see in cartoons, sat atop his neck, a rope poking out of an opening. His eyes were sharp enough to stab you with its striking orange glow. Intriguingly, small flickers of flames set alight the rope. A slight hissing sound followed.

"Great. Look what you've done." The strange man turned around and began shoving metallic cans into a backpack, the flames on his head growing larger and louder.

"Wait, what did I do?" With their breath hesitant once more, y/n gripped onto a box, using it as a handhold to stand up. Only now did they realise exactly how tall he was; almost double the size of an average person.

"You interacted with me," he said, unzipping his hoodie. "You shouldn't be here." 

With the hoodie crumpled up in his hands, y/n glanced at his arms. They were shiny, with some parts sectioned off by lines, bolts or cogs. He was some form of mech, most likely.

"Why? Are you a criminal of some kind?" Crossing their arms, y/n looked him up and down. He definitely looked shady but there was something about him that was too odd for it to be true. 

"Not exactly; shut up." He slinged his bag over his shoulder. "We have to get out of here. Now." Grabbing their arm, he pulled y/n further back into the alley.

"What are you doing?" They said, their voice echoing between the two buildings. Cautiously, he covered y/n's mouth, almost fast enough for it to be a slap across the face. Eyebrows furrowed, they pried off his hand.

"Making sure there aren't any more casualties than there needs to be. Come on." He reached over and pulled a tarp off of some form of vehicle. Squinting in the darkness, y/n could make out what looked to be a pitch black motorcycle. Sleek, matte, almost brand new. 

Sighing, the guy pulled out a helmet, presumably custom built for his head. Angered by the situation at hand, he shoved his head into the helmet, sitting down on the seat. His ignition grew larger by the minute, sending small flickers of flames dancing around in the air.

"Wait, why?"

Looking back towards the far entrance of the alley, the ground beneath y/n started to slightly sway.  "What makes you think I have to go with you? Isn't this kidnapping?" they said, taking a step towards the light sprinkling in. With their breath growing quicker, y/n glanced around for a distraction.

"Look. Would you rather come with me and be safer, or go back to whatever you were doing, with the increased risk of being hunted down and killed by the same person who's trying to kill me?" The alleyway grew quiet.

"I think I'll take the former."

"Good." Y/n hesitantly ran back over to him, eyes darting all of the place. "Get on - oh, and use this to cover up the spray-paint on your shirt," He said, abruptly throwing his hoodie at their stomach. "We don't have much time." Looking down, y/n could feel the paint seeping through, sending a shiver down their body. 

Not thinking of doing so before, they looked back over at the dark brick wall, intrigue spreading across their face. Many lines and shapes ran down the surface, intersecting with one another and merging together, creating surrealistic chaos. Returning to the present, y/n's gaze turned low and sharp.

"Wow, first you ruin my day, and now my clothes? I should thank you," they said, exhaling fiercely.

"Ah, how kind! Now piss off."

Quickly pulling the hoodie onto their arms and body, y/n climbed on behind him. Revving the engine, he released the breaks, drifting around another corner and back out of the alleyway. With the drag nearly tearing y/n off the seat, they clinged onto his waist. Strangely, he smelt of gasoline, coffee and honey. A presence loomed over y/n, namely being the slight disgust of the driver himself, glancing back.

"Damn, we've been having so much fun today that I forgot to ask your name. Tell me, what atrocity did your mother call you when you were born?" Surprisingly, a slight laugh emerged from beneath the helmet, strained towards the end.

"Whitty."