Skippin' The Hard Part | Skipp x Reader

Chapter 1 - Scraps

Y/n's POV

Walking through Entertainment Square was a feat you've done thousands of times. The bustling streets with the humbling rich folk, the flashy stores selling overpriced merchandise, and the meticulous scraps watching for an opportunity to commit crime. You were used to all this noise and commotion. This... This was the city of Ramshackle. The city with the highest crime rates in the nation. The city with the worst poverty rates ever. The city with the most snobby 'lootbags' in the world. Your home.

You and your mother were on your way to a fancy restaurant for supper, as the private chef had hurt his hand and couldn't cook anything for tonight. That lousy chef. He's been working for your family for years, how did he slip up with a simple butcher knife?

None of your business anyway. You were starving and your mother was busy talking on the phone with some important businessman. Anyone could've guessed it was turning into a heated argument, because the tension in her face was growing with each second. The way her lips curled and her eyes widened were a sign for no one to bother until she's cooled down.

"What do you mean you can't sell us the property?! My husband has filed all the paperwork already, what more do you want from us? I want to speak to your manager!" You managed to tune out her 'yapping' and focus on your measly daydreams. It was exhausting, really. Your mother has such a short temper.

While you were walking past a cart with expensive cotton candy, you felt something tug at the back of your neck. Almost like someone was trying to unchain your necklace. You looked behind you, but no one was there. Then you self-consciously feel around your chest where your chain usually resides. There was nothing.

Someone must have stolen your necklace! Turning around to scan the streets for the potential perpetrator, you noticed a figure following your mom. They had their hand on her purse, unlatching the leather to poke around. You halted. Both of you are getting robbed in broad daylight!

Your brain went into panic mode, your instincts insisting you to scream. You looked closely at the figure pilfering your mother and realized it was a girl, a scrap about your age. Her face was smeared with dirt and her hair was mussed and tangled, but before you could say anything a hand covered your mouth.

You jumped, making muffled sounds calling for help. Then another hand covered your eyes and your whole body sprung in alarm. This was all happening so fast. Were you going to die? Is your mom going to be okay? Are these scraps about to kidnap and murder you? You considered elbowing whoever's behind you in the gut, but your arms were being restrained by yet another person. You wished your parents taught you more self-defense lessons.

Then, you heard scuffling, and the hands restricting your body let go. When you could finally open your eyes, a scrap with blond hair stood right in front of you. He cupped your jaw with one hand and put a finger to his lips with the other. He didn't say anything, but he winked and scurried away.

Your brain was fuzzy. One blink, and all the scraps were gone. You caught a glimpse of them rushing into the alleyway before you squeezed your eyes shut.

Ow. What was that? Your throat was clogged with words, and all that came out was a croak. Your hands felt around for your necklace but it was still missing. Then you remembered your mom was being robbed too, but when you spotted her, she was way up ahead.

You stumbled towards your mother, panting, still alarmed about the fact that you just got mugged in the open streets. Your mom was still talking on the phone, much less aggressive than before. "Oh, that's wonderful. Please check my account and see if my funds are still in my balance. I am utmost delighted to work with you."

Baffled, you put your hand on her arm, catching your breath. "Mom... didn't you just see what happened?" Sparing a glimpse at her bag, you saw some bills poking out. You knew your mother carried a lot of money around, so it's a good thing the scraps didn't take all of it.

"Tch. See what, honey? Can't you see I'm on the phone right now? Why are you so out of breath anyway?" Her lips snarled at the sight of your disheveled state. Bewildered, you stammered incoherent words. "B-But, the scraps- they- didn't you notice- your purse-"

She scoffed and rudely snubbed you. "Quit your yammering. You'll wear out your vocal chords," she snorted as she continued her chit-chat with the person on the other side of the phone.

Flabbergasted, you stood there dumbfounded, wondering how the flip she didn't realize she got robbed. She didn't notice the 2-3 scraps mugging her daughter either. What the heck?! Was she that indulged in her conversation to not notice her valuables getting purloined in broad daylight!? How?!

With a groan, you looked back one last time to where the scraps dashed off to. They were probably back in the slums, counting the wads of bills they pilfered from your blind-as-a-bat mother. They probably planned to sell your necklace to a pawn shop for more than it originally cost.

You then remembered the blond scrap who cupped your face and signaled you to hush. You only looked at him for a mere two seconds, so you couldn't recall much about him. All you can remember was that he had blond fluffy hair, sky-blue eyes, and a red hat. You also remembered he had a matching scarf that dragged along behind him. You could still recall his gentle touch, those scratchy gloves leaving a warm sensation on your chin. For some reason it gave you the butterflies.

Your cheeks turn pink when you realize you've been thinking about this scrap for far too long. He's a scrap! You didn't know anything about him, but your mom would have a fit if she found out you were feeling this way. If she knew a scrap put his tender hands anywhere on her daughter's face, she would hunt him down with a shotgun and he'd be gone before you could count to 10.

You gulped as possibilities flooded your head. You tried not to think about it as you sat down in the restaurant across from your mom. She had her usual permanent scowl, and you hoped she couldn't read minds. Thankfully, her eyes were glued to the menu, and you could let out a sigh you've been holding.

You're a 'lootbag'. He's a 'scrap'. There's an obvious contrast between the rich and the poor. You both loathe each other. The scraps steal from the lootbags to make a living while the lootbags continuously point their nose down on scraps. All scraps are unwanted. No lootbag wants them around. It's a cruel society you live in, but what can you do about it?

All you know is scraps don't belong here and you shouldn't interfere with them. But maybe, in another universe, things could be different. A universe where lootbags and scraps get along and there's no need for thievery or discrimination. A universe where maybe you, the rich, could befriend those scraps, the poor.

You rest your head on your palm, frowning. You knew that could never happen. After all, crime and hatred is the soul of Ramshackle.

Author's Note: Imagine the phone that the mom has is one of those bulky cordless telephones with a tall antenna invented in 1956 and introduced in the 1980s. This is still in a vintage setting, sorry for any confusion!