#el writes

small huffs left dean’s lips as his chest heaved, hands fisting in the sheets. his eyes, hazy and unfocused were locked on you, your mouth specifically. he shouldn’t have even gotten himself into this situation in the first place. a hookup with a vampire? it reeked of life-long trouble. damn it all, it was dangerous and he knew it very well.

“relax.” you told him simply, your hands sliding to the underside of dean’s thighs, pulling him closer to you. “not gonna turn you.” you grinned, shifting your face lower. “you can handle a little bite, though. yeah?”

dean took a moment to process what you had said. “what?” he spoke, swallowing hard right after, then, furrowing his eyebrows. “what the fuck is that s’posed to mean? hey.” his voice was firm but he was squirming. he propped his palms on the matress and sat up. he was only in his boxers so the sight was.. delicious, to say the least. you meant it in both ways, obviously.

your fingertips slid under the fabric of his underwear, gently rubbing his skin. “what do you think, smartass?”

“uh-uh. you ain’t feeding on me, you leech. that wasn’t what we talked about.” dean defended immediately, his blinking excessive. his skin was hot to the touch though. “you hear me, right? i ain’t gonna have your filthy fangs in my neck.”

“who said anything about your neck?” you look up at him, your fangs visible as you give him a toothy grin. it only made dean stammer as he shifted his hips, his eyes zeroing on your sharp teeth. “..what? where the hell are you gonna bite then?” he questioned, his voice slightly breathless, though you didn’t miss the frustration etched in his face.

“here.” your word was quiet, but serious. dean’s eyes widened imperceptibly, watching as your mouth just inched closer to his inner thigh. “can i?” the question was simple, however dean knew it wasn’t like that. it may have sounded like it, but it was definitely a request.

“are you crazy? you wanna fuckin’ bite my thigh? you have any idea what the fuck you’re asking of me?” dean questioned, his tone taking an offended edge, his fingers gripping the sheets despite himself. “please?” you mutter with a pointed look, mouth open, waiting for the cue to go.

dean sighed heavily, clicking his tongue. he was regretting his decision before even making it. he knew he couldn’t resist you. “just this once. try to bite me again and i gut you.” he flopped back down on the bed, bringing an arm up to sling over his eyes. he didn’t want to watch.

a small, sharp hiss left dean’s mouth and his body twitched on instinct as your fangs sank into his thigh, breaking the skin. “mm.” dean hummed, clenching his fists. he could feel you drinking his blood from his thigh. jesus. when did he get this unhinged?

you didn’t necessarily need to feed on dean because you weren’t that hungry. but hey, why the fuck not? getting a taste of dean’s blood just before you ruin him? now that was thrilling. you hummed appreciatively against the skin, closing your eyes as you felt his blood seep into your mouth, the liquid warm and syrupy sweet. it effortlessly slid down your throat, your hands kneading the flesh of the back of dean’s thighs.

he squirmed again, and started to do so more often, his body twitching at the uncomfortable and somewhat painful feeling of your teeth in his thigh. he managed to stay quiet though, spreading his legs wider to feel more relaxed.

dean let out a small grunt as you finally pulled away and sat up, keeping your hands where they were. he finally looked at you and he really wanted to cringe at the sight—your pupils wide, mouth bloody and the blood smudged across your face, your fangs still visible—but he couldn’t. you were so attractive to him that no matter what you did, he would never think it’s off-putting.

“weirdo.” dean grumbled out, his facial expression a scowl. he moved his face away as you leaned down to try and kiss him. “now that’s a hell no. no.” he insisted, his hands landing on your shoulders to keep you at a distance. “don’t you like the metallic taste of blood?” you grinned. “i personally do. it’s one of my favourites actually. i could drink that shit for life.”

dean made an annoyed sound but quickly got distracted by the feeling of blood trickling down his leg. “you damn motherfucker.” he said breathlessly with no real bite, attempting to look down to assess the damage you had done. he squirmed again when your palm pressed to the puncture wounds, squeezing his leg. “ey—” just as he said that, you captured his mouth in a kiss. long, deep, passionate. you felt dean’s hands moving against your body, but he made no actual move to push you away as he reluctantly melted into the kiss, just slightly though, because soon enough, he let out a pissed off grumble into it. you knew why—it was the taste. the thought of him being pissed because of that made you grin against his lips.

“you’re a great kisser.” you mention, trailing your lips downwards, pressing insistent kisses all over his torso. it makes dean want to writhe but he holds it back. “of course i am. why would you expect any less from me?” he answered, watching you intently, his face a grimace despite the heat pooling in his gut. “come on.” you bring a hand up to lightly slap his face a couple times. “lighten up, you look mad.” your voice comes out as a whisper as you trail the kisses back up. dean grunts, shifting his chest up into your kisses. “i am. you fed on me, from my thigh mind you, like a freak, and then you kissed me with that stupid blood all over your face.” he complained flatly.

“oh, yeah. and? makes it better. i like putting on a show.” you smirk as you kiss him again, pushing him flat down onto the bed. dean’s own reciprocation is sloppy, a half-groan slipping out without his permission. he did cut it off, but as your hands slipped under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down, with the intent to take them off, dean gasped lowly. his reaction made you laugh. “oh? big ladies man stammers when getting his underwear taken off?” you tease. “be honest, do you fuck in the dark so your lady can’t see what you’re up to?”

“shut your mouth.” dean grumbled out, his hands now resting against the sides of your neck. he did, however, lifts his hips to assist you in discarding the piece of clothing. when the words “atta boy” left your lips, dean didn’t know if he wanted to just evaporate from plain sight or beat the shit out of you, so he just settled for flushing red, cheeks burning, though he did try his best to not let you see the results your words provided.

“open.”

“what?” dean questioned as he looked to your face, eyebrows furrowed.

“mouth. open.”

your words were simple. clear. dean watched as your hand inched closer to his mouth, and by some miracle he complied without protest or questions, parting his lips. an almost imperceptible noise left him as two of your fingers slid into his mouth, pressing against his tongue. dean knew how this went, he’s done it multiple times before. he never had it done to him though. maybe it was the need to show you how good he was in bed, or maybe he truly wanted to satisfy you because who would dean winchester be if his partner was left unsatisfied, needs not met and expectations not exceeded?

dean moved his left hand to your wrist, grasping lightly as he sucked on your digits, swirling his tongue around them, coating them in his saliva. he watched your face intently, the crease in his eyebrows still present. you raised your chin up a bit, licking your lips. in anticipation, maybe. “perfect.” you mutter, pulling your fingers out as bringing them down, between dean’s legs, nudging them open with your elbow. the hunter spread his legs a bit wider, looking down to watch your actions.

of course, you being you, you had to tease him a little. just to rile him up. your wet fingers traced the rim of his hole as dean shifted his hips up and away from your touch, though he quickly schooled himself and brought them back to their original position with a quiet wince. “dean.”

“what now?—”

his words are cut off by a kiss, once again, sloppy and messy. he relaxes for a moment before his whole body tenses as you push your fingers inside his hole. fuck, that kiss was a distraction. dean’s hips cant upwards, thighs clenching, hands descending to your chest, fingers digging into your skin with a low mewl. “you’re pretty. so so pretty, such a beautiful sight.” you breathe out with a grin, ducking your head to nip at the skin of his neck. dean threw his head back in response, baring his neck as if on instinct. “keep ‘em still.” you said, fangs grazing his pulse point. with a curl of your fingers, dean’s thighs threaten to close. they can’t, thankfully. you’re in-between them. “dean.” you use his name as a reminder.

”don’t- don’t order me around with your fingers up my ass. s’weird.” his voice was small, whiny even. he was breaking down and it was happening quick. with a twist of your wrist and another curl of your fingers, you got dean to keen and arch his back off of the bed. “good?” you mumbled, your mouth latching onto his pec. dean pursed his lips and then pulled them into a tight line, to keep the embarrassing, wanton sounds at bay as he scrunched his face up, shutting his eyes. eventually, he let out a breath he was holding, feet restlessly sliding back and forth, side to side and mussling up the sheets.

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“m-mm-m-m—” these little hums were what you got from dean as you fucked into him, your hands gripping the back of his thighs to keep him close. “come onnnnn,” you urged him with a breathless voice. “moan as loud as you want to. let me hear how good you feel, baby.”

a disgruntled sound left the hunter due to the pet name, as he turned his head to the side, pressing it into the pillow with continuous gasps, one hand on his chest, fingers clenched tight around his necklace, the other hand fisted in the sheets. his thighs trembled where you held them up, abdomen tense. he was sweaty, flushed from the tips of his ears down to his chest.

“ngh!—ah- fuck.. fuckin’ shi-i-itt..” he moaned, the noise like a melody, a soothing balm to your ears. the sound of your pelvis slapping against his ass was getting on your nerves, to be honest. you loved the way he his hole kept sucking you back in whenever you retracted your hips, lived for it, even. greedy little bastard. “mmh— m-motherfucker..” he groaned, voice low and raspy, barely coherent. dean’s whole body trembled and spasmed as you slid your hands down to his ass, gripping tight to pull him even closer, your cock deep inside, his hips now off the bed. both of his hands frantically moved up, fingers tightening on the edge of the headboard above him as a loud whimper escaped him. poor dean clenched his jaw so hard you swore you could hear his teeth grind together as he straightened his head, slamming it back into the pillow a couple times as your thrusts slowed down to the point where it was unbearable. he choked on your name, opening his eyes to look at you. with a satisfied groan, you guide his trembling hips to move in circles, before pulling him up a bit higher. you shifted the angle, which resulted in your cock hitting his prostate and oh—

“ghhh—god fucking damn it!” dean sobbed in a broken voice with a violent shudder, body twitching and tensing, trying to move away. you kept him in place though. ”uh-uh-uh. it’s okay, you can take it, big guy. you can take my cock like the good boy that you are, yeah?” you praised him mindlessly as you kept drilling into him with those deep, rough, unrelentless thrusts. dean was gasping for air as he sat up, wrapping his arms around your neck to hold onto you. you let him, of course, shifting to sit back on your heels as you just held him up, moving him on your cock. “ahaahahh..ah- oh- my god- oh f-uh-uck- fuckfuckfuckkk—”

dean’s leaking cock pressed against your abdomen as he clung to you like his life depended on it, trembling like a leaf in the wind as his fingernails pressed into your skin, raking them up involuntarily. whenever he fixed his hold, it happen over and over again. the sting of the scratches, his noises right in your ear, the lingering taste of his blood on your lips, his body against yours… it was all so fucking hot.

when your fangs grazed against his earlobe and you whispered some dirty nonsense against it, dean whimpered, pathetically so, thighs clamping down around your waist. “you’re in for a ride, dean. not getting away from this one so soon.”

the implication, the overwhelming feeling he was already getting drowned by made him cling to you even harder, if that was possible. dean’s sounds never came to an end, he didn’t even have a chance to close his mouth, the noises being so insistent, coming out unrestrained, like it was meant to happen. fuck.

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All four members were dead silent as the only sound that filled the atmosphere was the suckling of little fingers. Rippen's father, Axalon more openly gawked at the small thing while Vlurgen and the head of the family, Hedwin, leered at the pitiful lump of ugly genes. That is until their gaze latched back onto Rippen, the stupid brother and son who brought the vermin here and kept it a secret for a whole night, letting it spread its germs and stench within their home.

"Mama, please let me ex—"

"You know what I see?" His dear mother cut him off, eyes still lingering on the thing her son deems a baby. "I see a show of utter insolence on display before me. An ungrateful being blinded with blissful ignorance of what the world has to cruelly offer." She leaned against the island, placing her hands on the countertop yet keeping far from the tiny thing's grasp, "And I see an infant."

That was such a devastating blow to Rippen's character, at least the most devastating this month. Vlurgen grinned all the same at his miserable existence, drinking in the humiliation that tore its way in and out of him.

Rippen patiently awaited for his time to respond, not to counteract his mother in any way, he would never attempt to speak so out of turn with her. He only wanted to explain himself.

Hedwin waved her hand, her visage of detachment faced away from him, and her gaze laid upon her nails, "You may speak. No whinging."

"I had no plans in keeping it- I don't even know why I even brought it back home in the first place, honest, Mama..." No lies being passed as half-hearted truths, there was absolutely zero plan of keeping it and he didn't truly understand why he did such a dreadfully idiotic thing. Yet, the one thing that stung worse more than anything, was that he got caught. Proving that his sneaky and tactful side was severely lacking for a soon-to-be villain such as himself.

"So, whut then is your next course of action?" Her attention still on her nails as her thumb traced the painted claw of her middle finger.

Rippen gave his answer some thought before speaking, "... find its parents?" He sheepishly replied, his shoulders tensed and attempting to take the place of his spikey head as his neck sank down.

Every single family member's attention was back on him in a way that really showed that they were casting a considerably closer look at him. Axalon and Vlurgen trying to conceal their befuddlement, his father doing a better job than his sister.

"That is," His mother's face gave way to slight surprise to the response, her rubied gaze slowly moving back to his line of sight. "Certainly an option that you've chosen."

Was that the right choice? It was certainly one that led to the infant's departure. He couldn't just leave it back on the street, imagine the next gullible fool that ended up in his position, not like he cared about this hypothetical person- no, a better reasoning as to why he shouldn't re-abandoned it: he could get in trouble for littering! Yes, precisely! This option simply cuts out all the messy and potentially troublesome bits.

After that, the kitchen fell quiet again...

"Well?" Her eyes were as cold as the blood-encircled obsidian stones that made up her irises and pupils.

Rippen sputtered out, "W- Well?"

"Go."

Ordered him around like some sort of mongrel she so generously let sleep in the old utility room. A mongrel who obediently listened, rising from his seat and lunging towards the redhead, yanking him back like a ticking bomb about to blow in front of his mother, and the other two. Just like he viewed it last night.

"Don't return until you get rid of it."

The little creature cooed, grubby hands latching onto his shirt as Rippen skedaddled right out of the house. Not even heeding thoughts of stopping and changing into some fresh clothes or‐ none of that mattered. Only ridding himself and his family of this wretched tiny thing was the single most important matter in his whole wide world.

The extensive journey ahead will entail great suffering, he knew this as a certainty, remarkably so with the little tot he was toting around. He'll have to endure for the time being, it shouldn't take too long, he'll make sure of it. And the same sentiment about great suffering can be said about the curly-slightly-haired stray as well, being carried around with an empty belly was practically being sentenced to fade away from existence. This cannot stand! Its starvation shall be known to the entire planet!

The sudden noise startled Rippen, him thinking it was some sort of siren going off, but typically those don't sound that close, close enough to blare in his eardrums. He swiftly discovered the source much to his horror. That ugly, wrinkly red face just inches aways from his wailed at him as it grew redder and redder, like it was attempting to match those very few curls that blossomed forth from its big head. Lone buck teeth being unveiled with wobbly, drooly lips. All a sickening sight.

An embarrassing one too as a few passersby locked onto the young man and baby with contemptuous gazes. He acted reflexively by holding its head close to his chest and shuffled away until he was out of public view, hiding in an alleyway. Hopefully not another infant was waiting around for him, he didn't want to deal with a litter.

Adjusting the babe in his arms, he interrogated it, "Why are you causing a scene?"

The answer he received was more of the same, big unsettlingly blue eyes wetly blinking up at him, little fingers ensnaring his shirt and yanking at it. As though trying to communicate, the point came across crystal clear when the runt slammed his face against the man's broad chest and slobbered all over.

"Oh..." The realization finally dawned on him, and then some added disgust, "OH EW!" He held the ever-running drool faucet away from him, surveying the mess made. "Oh, come onnnnn!" He whined, throwing his head back in utter despair. First, a baby and now this? A little stain that'll eventually dry out on its own? Surely he'll be stoned in the streets for such uncleanliness, it truly was the end of his nonexistent social standing as he knew it!

No time was given to rub off the drool as the crying started up again, making his pointed ears snapping back in irritation. "Alright! Alright! You've made your point, you're hungry!"

The wailing quieted, the utterance of that last word really shut the little bugger up and it was like this strange, green person finally understood his tearful prayers. Take that dang shirt off and-

"Now, there's got to be something nearby." Rippen sighed, taking in a last deep breath before he casted himself back onto the streets and marched towards the closest baby store. Easier said than done.

After all his youth being spent upon these streets and roads, he never bothered to really get to know his surroundings. Only knowing a few notable places and stores that mainly revolved around his interests and curiosity. Wait, why was he ragging on himself for not knowing the exact location of a godsforsaken store for babies?! He wasn't planning to find some stray on the street since the age of eleven! This whole thing was ridiculous, he should just focus on finding the parents, no pit stops!

No, no, that'll cause more trouble down the line. What if seeing their infant acting up and fussy would make them no longer want it back? Or they think that Rippen was purposely starving the thing and trap him in their basement and starve him to death? Anything could happen, no half measures. Food then continue searching.

Asking for help could be very beneficial for the two, too bad that Rippen was too haughty to even entertain that thought. He can find it on his own, he deemed his internal compass top notch and infallible.

That mindset was probably put into question after hours of scouting for the proverbial store. If it was one hour longer, the infant that his tired arms carried around would've bitten a chunk out of Rippen in an astonishing leap in development from milk to flesh.

Wicked by Nurture

Baby Boutique

Going inside and getting a good gander at the place made him want to double over in revulsion. Yet, he carried on, scanning around for a bottle and formula enough to last the day.

While trying to ignore all the sideways glances he received, an idea came across his mind. He enacted it by getting the attention of another man, "Hey, do you know anyone—"

The man noticed Rippen, his eyes widened and violently shook his head, not even letting the younger man finish as he sped walked away with the numerous items in his basket.

Rippen tried again, asking a woman with a toddler this time, "Excuse me, Miss, do you know anyone with a baby that looks—"

"Diseased like yours?" She sharply cut him off, "Thank the gods no." The toddler strapped with a leash stared up at the weird looking baby as her mother brought her closer out of fear of being infected. "I pity you and your wife's situation though."

"I- I don't have a wife, I'm not even married."

This seemed to strike a nerve with the woman, her response to that was to sneer and walk away, pushing her shopping trolley. The toddler lingering for a bit until she was yanked away by the leash.

The failed interactions were perfectly punctuated by the oncoming storm the one might call a tantrum that was building up in the runt in his arm, slapping something off one of the shelves and shattering across the floor. It took every fiber in Rippen's being not to yell at an infant in public.

He had to go numb, that's all, just shut out all the boiling emotions and thoughts and deal with the mess. Breathe in, take a step away from the shelves to avoid further destruction, breathe out. Close your eyes, breathe in-

"Pups, huh? Always keeping you on your toes."

"Huh?" Rippen opened his eyes to see a woman cleaning up the glass mess near his feet. "Whut are you doing?"

"Helping." She answered it so casually, like it wasn't any trouble at all even though the smelly, fussy brat made it everyone's problem. Observing the woman below him, he noticed how covered up she was: something with long sleeves with what appeared to be a handmade sweater poncho over it, a headscarf hiding her probably tied up hair and to add to the extraness, sunglasses. Concealing herself head to toe. He wouldn't have questioned it if it wasn't for the sunglasses. Those rang as highly suspicious to him.

He didn't go out of his way to help the strange woman, letting himself stand there and stare down at her like an asshole. Once finishing up and holding the glass in her hands, she peeked around for a trash bin to deposit. After taking all the proper precautions and tossing the shards, she turns back to the young man, who in turn, was about to sneak away.

She obviously caught him in the act and tried to ring him back into a conversation, "Finding everything okay?"

"Oh gods, do you work here?" He whipped back around, using the boy as a shield from potential ridicule. While yes, it is the worker's job to clean up after others, he knew first hand how pissy it can make people be. He's been on both sides, neither are fun.

"No," She shook her head and arms, "I just noticed you peeking around, you look a little lost." Even with sunglasses concealing her eyes, she was still quite expressive.

Rippen arched a brow, "Oh, so you're spying on me, huh? Weirdo."

"NO- No, I am NOT spying on you." That made her shake her head and hands more rapidly than before, looking like those parts were about to screw off and fly onto the floor.

"That's exactly whut a spy would say." He accused as he held his head high, knowing he was right. That high horse he was sat upon bucked him off in the form of the grumbly sprog somehow managing to get a grubby hand full of Rippen's hair, yanking in impatience.

"I- you know whut? Fair enough, they do say that." That odd little comment flew past Rippen's notice, but her peeking around for something or someone didn't go by overlooked, "So you don't need help then?"

Rippen wanted terribly to say no, that he had everything handled. The tot tattering the ends of his luscious hair betrayed that notion, he was clearly struggling with the most simplest of tasks. So, he sighed and asked in a monotone voice, "Whut's the best, cheapest formula that'll last me a day?"

That spun into a whole dialogue about the nutritional needs of pups, how often you need to feed them, and that led to how often you should change their nappies, have you changed it yet? No, actually, he hasn't and he didn't at all feel shitty for not even checking until now. Oh, but don't worry, she'll do it for him and continue to go on and on about every necessary thing he needs to care for a pup. He averted his attention as she set the little "cutie" on a changing table and did the deed and- oh...

It was a boy.

The whirlwind of information seemed to no longer pound against his skull and merely entering through one ear and stayed within his mind. Something about the fact that it was a boy seemed to matter to Rippen for some reason. That sliver of relief faded as the little detail added another thought to his overanalyzing mind...

What if he was left there because he was a son, not a daughter?

A concept not unheard of yet one that sank Rippen's heart from his chest way down to his ass. Not out of heartbreak or sorrow, but out of fear of a potential fool's errand. That this was all for not.

"And here's all you need!" Her cheerful voice broke through his thinking. Baby boy all cleaned up and a little less cranky, along with a diaper bag picked out and full of day's worth of everything Rippen needed. A bottle, ready-to-feed formula, nappies, wipes, clothes, some toys, and what looked to be like some sort of small med kit. The whole shebang!

A whole shebang's worth of money that Rippen did not have.

Before he could speak up, "So, if you don't mind me asking," He always minded people asking him stupid questions, "Whut's the little pup's name?" She crooned, playing with the curly red tuft on the boy's bulbous head.

"Name..."

Dear gods, why ask him such a question? He could feel those scrutinizing eyes laying their sights upon him once more, being judged for not being able to provide a simple question. His sights blinked around him, waiting for people to come out of the woodwork and accuse him of numerous falsehoods. A baby snatcher, a terrible father, a wantwit child who couldn't do what he was told, dilly-dallying the day away! He wasn't even allowed to name him! He wasn't keeping him, he wasn't... his.

"It's alright, finding the right name takes time. I spent sooo much time mulling over my wee Z- ... my wee gloop's name." Seeing her reminiscing over her own child made Rippen's chest feel... gross. But it did put his mind at some ease.

"Do I really need all of—"

"WELL! I hope you find everything alright! I hope you and your son have a lovely day! Don'tbeastrangerbyeeeeeee!" She abruptly fled the door, waving a frantic hand towards him as she rushed to the outside world. The store's windows she walked past showed her cheery expression shifting to a more panicked one as she adjusted her speed from a light jog to a marathon run.

"Whut the f—"

Someone shoulder checked Rippen, marching past him and out the door before the young man could give them an earful and bark at them for their rudeness. Only a few hostile words spewed out of Rippen's mouth once the door swung open and shut back in place. He huffed and his attention returned to the boy and bag full of things that were apparently essential. Not knowing that the stranger was most definitely tailing the kind woman.

"Alright... let's see how much you're costing me, you money leech." Heaving out what must've been the fiftieth sigh of the day while he scooped up the freshly changed baby and grabbed the bag, heading over to the checkout desk.

Placing the items on the surface gained no response from the worker, only scanning everything and making no attempts of small talk. Rippen dealt with the bugger's tiny grippers as each item beeped and beeped. That is, until they noticed something in the bag, sneaking a hand in and pulling it out. "You forgot your money in here, sir."

"Money?" Rippen's focus snapped onto the work holding up a roll of cash. Most definitely not his. No, it couldn't be... why would she do that? "Oh, right, my money." He tentatively took the roll and looked over it as the worker wrapped up scanning and started to bag.

"That'll be a hundred five notes and twenty-seven cents."

"My bloody head on a pike..." He mumbled as he counted through the roll of money with a nosey nipper trying to get at the cash. Counting a generous eighty in total. An amount that would be great to put away for a rainy day, but couldn't due to his current situation. He slid it over on the desk and went to grab his wallet... his wallet was at home. "Uhhh, one moment please!" He sheepishly grinned, placing the babe next to the bag. Lowering himself down to his right shoe and slipped it off, digging under the insole and slipped out twenty-six wrinkled notes.

Shoe back in place, albeit slightly off with every step due to the disturbance, he handed over the rest. The worker tapped the desk, not wanting to touch the foot-notes. Rippen dislodged a strained chuckle, "Sorry about that... and you can just put everything in that bag."

Finally, everything was said and done! A bag on his back and a baby boy in his arms, who began to get grouchy again. Rippen paused his stride and sat down near the store on the, thankfully, empty pavement to prepare a bottle.

No bottle warmer, which is apparently a thing, so the hangry brat would have to deal. Like the starving stray it- he was, he instantly latched onto the bottle and suckled on it greedily. Unholy grumbling sounds of feeding grated on Rippen's ears, pinching back from the sheer awfulness of it. "And whut do you have to say for your antics? For my generosity? An apology and thank you, perhaps?" Sneering over the noises, trying to let himself be unfazed by it. After every single drop of the formula was sucked dry from the bottle, a disgusting burp was the answer Rippen got. Along with a sudden sneeze to the face.

"............. wonderful."

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Knock knock knock.

The home's door opened, the owner being greeted with the sight of a young man and a strange baby at their doorstep.

"Evening," He politely said, shifting the baby in his arms to give the onlooker a better view of the little guy. "Is this your baby, or do you happen to know anyone with this baby?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, apologies for—" The door so happened to shut between them before he could finish his apology. No worries, he moved on to the next house. Then to the next one, then the one after that and the other one after that. Hustling down the street. Fitting in a quick break once the grumblings of a hungry were made known to him.

Sit. Bag. Formula. Shake. Bottle. Feed.

Knock knock knock.

"Evening! Is this your baby—"

"Uh no?"

"Do you know anyone that has a baby that looks like—"

"No?"

"Right then, thank you for your—" Door to the face.

Hours upon hours of door after door after door after door to the face, there were those few times no one answered the knocking. This suburban venture was turning into a real trip through a hellscape, especially with the bag and babe he was lugging around, arms growing tired of the responsibility of holding the formula-full tot. That one pram he spotted at the boutique would've done wonders for this endeavor, he could set the bag in the storage basket and have nothing weighing him down, nice and breezy! .... wait, what was he doing?! Why even entertain thoughts of such an expense he'd only use once! Constantly being on his feet must have been driving him to lunacy!

Sit. Bag. Formula. Shake. Bottle. Feed.

The numerous doors slammings and constant interruption was driving up a wall, people all day barely let him get a full sentence out. He probably hasn't blown up at anyone yet because he was too damn exhausted to get his blood boiling.

About to sit his tired ass down on the pavement for himself this time around, his ears pricked up, hearing some voices in the distance. Curiosity and hope got the best of him and he shambled towards them. Near a park with one of those trademark dangerous playgrounds and obstacle course, almost looked like the one he and Vlurgen grew up with... what horrible memories the sight drummed up.

"Luv, I can't seem to find his teether." One said, and the other piped up with, "Whut? Really?"

His mind began tuning out losing their baby's teether and the other part about losing something else or maybe someone? It didn't matter. His eyes were fixed onto the very nice-looking pram they had. He paid no mind to the worried mother going off, scrambling to find the teether, attentively watching the larger of the two take the fat baby out of the pram and bounced him around in attempts to soothe his bawling wrath. Walking around, singing some sort of tune... was that what lullabies sounded like?

When both were a good distance from the pram, Ripoen made his move. He scoped around the area for any witnesses before gunning for it, clutching his baby so as to not drop him along the way, bag shuffling side to side on his back. When reaching it, with unnatural care, he laid down the confused baby boy and yanked down the canopy. Getting behind to snatch the pram's handle, he felt like he elevated his peak speed to that of a rocket ship with a pram duct tape to it.

"Whu- EXCUSE YOU, YOU LIL' PUNK!" The larger, buffer woman hollered, her voice striking terror into the Rippen's heart. But he didn't dare look back.

Since he chose to only look ahead, he didn't realize the danger he was almost in. The woman snagged a sizable rock off the ground and adjusted her aim until her sights landed on her target: the dirtbag thief. She hefted her son slightly onto her shoulder so he wouldn't observe such needless violence. Aim, ready, fire—

"WAIT! STOP! HE'S GOT A PUP!"

The buff woman beefed it and missed him, thankfully. If not for the interruption, his skull would've definitely been caved in and the pup would presumably be fatherless.

He's lucky for the kindness that persists to thrive under the harsh conditions that is their planet.

Mewling underneath the canopy slipped out, making his infant's fear of the situation be known. "Shhhh‐shhh-shh, you're okay, I'm okay, we're okay!"

▲ø▼ø▲ø▼ø▲ø▼ø▲ø▼ø▲ø▼ø▲ø▼ø▲ø▼

Knock knock knock.

"Evening..." Rippen tiredly spoke, "Is this your baby?" The pram presented to the homeowner, that was clearly carried up the steps, showed off an odd looking creature with the peeling back of the canopy like it was a worthwhile reveal.

They closed the door with an audible lock right after.

"Yeah, I figured..."

Sit. Bag. Formula. Shake. Bottle. Feed. Gotta change soon.

Knock knock knock.

"Even—"

"BOMB ME, I DARE YOU! I HAVE YOU ON CAMERA!"

"BOMB YOU? NO! THIS IS A BABY, LOOK—"

"I AIN'T FALLING FOR THAT! PISS OFF OR I'LL CALL THE SENTINELS!"

"OKAY! OKAY! I'M GOING—"

"GO ON AND GET!"

"I AM, YOU CODGER!"

Knock knock knock.

Door open, Rippen, pitch your pitch. "... evening... thisyourbaby?" After that word vomit, he realized he was staring at an empty doorway, his eyes flicking around for a person until he looked down and found him. A small, stout Underling stared back up at him.

He answered with the usual, "No."

With the grab of the pram's handle and a sigh, "Appreciate your time—"

A sudden jerk prevented Rippen from backing out, the cause being the Underling grabbing onto the bassinet part, "Wait." He stood on his tiptoes and peered inside to see a strange, blue-eyed pup that stared back in quiet alarm. He didn't know why, but just the audacity of this guy just crossing their boundaries made his throat and chest feel as tight as his grip around the handle. He couldn't tell if he was vibrating with rage or something was wrong with his upper respiratory system.

"Have you tried Progeny Services?" The little man asked. Rippen's response to that was a slow head shake, clearly not understanding what exactly he was talking about.

The Underling hung off the pram, gesturing a hand as he explained. "Y'know, Progeny... under-something or other Services?" Again, Rippen shook his head. The guy hopped off and made it back to the door, "I don't know, It's somewhere in the middle of the district, ain't too hard to miss. They deal with strays."

And nobody told him?! It couldn't be because Rippen was too haughty or embarrassed to even ask around for such pertinent information! Obviously he was gatekept from that knowledge, especially from that supposedly kind lady.

"Oh," Rippen was quite stunned by how thoughtful this man was being, telling him the perfect place to go. "Thank you—"

"Eh, I just don't wanna deal with finding your corpse on the pavement just because you were seen as a nuisance." The Underling started to close the door, muttering out before it fully shut, "It'd ruin my morning walk."

Rippen took his leave and strolled down the pavement, letting a beat of peace and quiet passing by in the darkened street. "Hear that, boyo?" Rippen jittered with hope, pulling back the canopy, "Almost done. Just gotta find Progeny... something something Ser—" He paused as he saw the little guy passed out after quite the long, excitement-filled day. "—vices." He fixed the canopy back in place and kept walking, heading towards the center of the district. He needed to make it before closing time

.

.

.

Progeny Undertaking

&

Processing Services

This will certainly be an undertaking.

Rated E