#basic bitch bugs au

[zippers-flowers-and-wine]

So like- What if Moth Bruno found a tiny moth (Caterpillar???) reader and said “Welp, time to adopt a child”

👀👀👀

Bruno blinked, compact eyes locked on the odd. . . tree limb? He squints from his upside down position, twisting his flexible upper body around to try and face the odd. . . What was it, actually?

Mista, the freshly molted grasshopper still unsteady on his newfound feet, shakily leans over him slightly, long and spiked antenna curling and flicking in an attempt to make sense of the weird object.

Dropping down onto a tree branch adjacent to the weird bit of bark, the larger black and white moth reached out with one clawed hand.

He reels back though at the sudden influx of aggressive pheromones that flood his scent receptors, blindsiding him. Mista buzzes in alarm, dropping down like he was back in his grub from and scrambling higher up the tree, wings and powerful legs forgotten in his rush.

High above, Bruno hears Abbacchio oscillate, hissing and snarling while his shadow unfurls into the telltale threat posture, four legs spread out and ready to strike.

The moth can't exactly blame him either. The pheromones reek of something bigger and more dangerous, yet the longer Bruno endures the scent, the more he realizes that something is amiss. Whatever that bigger and badder thing was, it would be making some serious sounds, yet he hears nothing.

Abbacchio seems to come to a similar conclusion, the massive net caster no longer hissing.

Bruno flutters his wings, a thought building up in his mind.

Stepping forward on light, padded feet, he reaches out once more for the oddly shaped tree branch.

The scent spikes again when his nails brush it's surface, flooding Bruno with a mass intake of panicked thoughts and the overwhelming urge to drop everything and flee.

In the same breath though, it amuses him, as the little creature unknowingly just tilted its own hand a fraction too far.

Now sure there was no real danger, and even more certain of the "tree branch's" mimicked identity, Bruno peels the little thing off with minimal effort, only amused when he's met with indignant screeching. The small caterpillar, no larger than his arm and worryingly thin, finally starts thrashing in earnest once it starts realizing its jig was up.

Mista hops down to ground level, long, bulky legs easily absorbing the shock of impact. His clawed toes hook into the soft Earth, ripping up chunks as the youngling hops over to start leaning over his adopted father's shoulder. His antennae stretch out, slowly reaching for the small caterpillars'.

By now, the young thing had tired itself out, and was too tired to respond to the careful inspection. The ground shudders behind him, shifting beneath their resident spider's weight s he approaches slowly. Looking back down at it, Bruno feels his wings shudder, reminded of Narancia's first moon with them.

How deathly thin the dragonfly larvae was, and how dirty and terrified he was, barely able to smell them with his antennae snapped in half.

Bruno runs his talons down her rough side, the tough, bark-like skin not even denting under his sharpened claws. Mista slowly looks up at him, and Abbacchio sighs from behind him, roughly muttering that Giornl and Bruno would have to care for it, since it was a caterpillar.

Flashing a dazzling grin, Mista taunts, "But Bruno didn't even say anything." Abbacchio grunts, but give no response as Bruno turns around with a similar look of amusement, his compact eyes shining in mirth.

"Don't fucking look at me like that." The net caster snaps, accidentally oscillating. Abbacchio huffs and turns his eyes away, glaring up at his hunting net with slitted eyes. "Besides. . . The last time I tried to convince you not to take in anymore strays, you directly ignored me and adopted two."

Mista smirks, shifting back while Bruno opens his wings, taking off with a small flip of his thick wings and a powerful jump

Abbacchio grumbles loudly, walking away to find a tree big or close enough to another for him to climb comfortably.

Mista watches his Dad's, then glances back at the tree, one worried question drifting through his mind:

Why were they just abandoned right there?

[zippers-flowers-and-wine]

"Go visit family in Oregon, they said. It'll be a blast, they said!" You hiss, hustling a little faster through the light rain with your arms ineffectively attempting to shield your thick hair.

What a crock of shit.

What they didn't tell you about this fucking place was that it rained every.

Fucking.

D a y.

...

Okay, you may be exaggerating juust a tad, you'll admit to that.

But still! The high humidity sucked for your already frizzed hair, and the rain usually rolled in out of nowhere!

As if to prove your point - or maybe even mock you, Oregon was a little bitch like that - the sky rumbles threateningly, darkening to a near black. The few drops that had been landing against your neck, speed up and you wail a dramatic curse.

Throwing your comfy coat over your head, you start hustling your step a little more.

Moving here hadn't been that much of a mistake, despite what you may complain. It was really pretty, with so many mountains that had good hiking spots, and rivers that provided you with relaxing swimming pools. Plus the always chilly water was a definite bonus, a complete step up from the metallic tang that always permeated the water in some of the hotter spots you've lived in.

The only problem you really had with Oregon was...

A low, clicking rumble from above. Your hair stands on end, and you take the steps up to your apartment three at a time, barely pausing to pull out your keys. You hear him click behind you, closer than you were comfortable with. It makes you miss the keyhole a few times, but the sound of him landing roughly on the metal railing behind you gives you small bit of extra coordination and you swiftly shove your door open.

Slamming it shut, a nervous eye peeks out of the peephole, flinching when it clashes with an overly wide, slightly compound, black eye.

God-damn-it.

Fucking... The bug beasts that liked to hang around were another factoid about Oregon that... Well, they didn't piss you off. It was just a huge leap from your last home.

Those guys weren't as prevalent in the other places you lived, most non-mountainous places only really having the arachnid-type beasts. In fact, when you lived in Texas with your cousins, the only insect based one you had ever seen was this one fluffy, brown and black... Caterpillar? He'll, he may be a fully grown butterfly at this point.

But he was a kid who had a nasty attitude, dyed his hair blue - according to rumours - and was always yelling at the humans he usually stuck around.

This place though? Practically crawling with them, no pun intended.

Beastfolk weren't new, but they were very few and very far inbetween. In fact, a lot of people had been questioning if they could really be considered "sentient"...

Well, they were swiftly shut down by a feisty tarantula, that looked kinda like an Arizona Blonde, that had become a lawyer and completely shut down a court case.

Another soft clicking makes you jump, shooting a look at the door. "Chill your thorax, fuzzbutt."

An offended click, and you smirk.

The only thing that kept a lot of people from considering most beasts as sentient and free thinking people was... Well...

You hear him jump over the railing. The heavy, almost lethargic sound of his wings flapping makes you hop to attention, darting through the house to swiftly shut your window with smug whoop.

He's gotten you like that too many times.

You see, beasts haven't fully gotten over their base instincts, and the month leading into spring was were all anti-beastfolk arguments got their evidence. Said that beasts clearly can't be sentient, they succumb to those based urges so easily!

Not because the folk felt any urge to fuck like rabbits, as was the common misconception.

He chitters at you through the window, feet thudding against either side of the - now shut - window for mere seconds before he kicks back off. His clicks fades as you grin giddily, dancing in place. You might actually win this one!

The only reason most speciests would give for being so against beastfolks was the fact that they were "too base instinct" and it made them "feel unsafe".

And in a way, they were right.

Your grin fades when you realize you can't hear him anymore.

It's dangerous to get between any spider-types and their chosen.

The hairs on your body raise, your mind scrambling to figure this out.

It's foolish to keep a centipede-type away from their loved ones.

A soft shuffle has you whipping around, hands up in a comical karate motion.

It's down right ridiculous to separate ant-types from their mates.

Suddenly, you remember: you didn't lock the bathroom up.

"You're asking for a death sentence if you get between a moth and his love." The voice slides between you shoulder blades, accompanied by four large arms wrapping around you.

Screaming in delight, you curse, "Oh you sneaky fuck!"

Bruno laughs, allowing you to whip around and hit his shoulder. His hand comes up, wringing out some of his neck fluff while he flashes you a smarmy grin. "What? It's not my fault you didn't check the bathroom first. I didn't even land at your window!"

You gasp, pushing him away with a look of mock horror. "Yo-you..."

He leans in, large black eyes shining teasingly. "Come on, you can say it."

"I can't!" You cry in the most over the top, Trans-Atlantic accent possible, draping yourself across the bed.

Bruno huffs a laugh, antenna flicking as he quickly shucks his slightly damp over shirt. With a quick hop, courtesy of his powerful legs, he lands on top of you, grinning at you scream. "What, is it a bad word?"

"Yes! You foul man, begone He-Who- Says-Bad-Words! Begone!" His eyes light up, a near maniacal grin stretching across his usually serious features.

(You'd never say it out loud for fear of emotionally wounding him: but you kinda liked how he acted pre-spring. He was so goofy... Although serious, intense Bruno is just as pleasant.)

His wings flare up, engulfing the room in a shadow of white, black speckled wings. His upper set of arm catch your hands and you're, quite rudely, made aware of your mistake of allowing him to straddle you.

"Bruno..." You warn, wiggling to pull away from his grasp.

His grin stretches wider, fangs hooking just slightly over his bottom lip as Bruno teases back, "(Y/N)..?"

Whatever threat you were gonna say is lost as his second pair of hands - the wicked claws clipped precisely for this reason - dive in, wiggling furiously against your ribs.

Screaming, you thrash, kicking out and laughing. His hands hold you steady, with just enough give that you're continuously given hope that you can escape, but you know better.

"Saaaay iiit~" He croons, slowing so you can speak.

Wheezing a few wet coughs, you smirk at him. "N-Nuh uh. I-I don't cuss like you do."

His antenna flick up, shivering as his grin gets wider. "Me? Cuss? Now that's just slanderous talk my dear."

"N' slander, cuz' it's true."

"Hmm, I think you can speak far too well my dear." A part of you immediately regrets talking back, especially when he shifts both of your hands into one of his, the other migrating down to hold your chest down.

Flashing you a smirk, he wiggles his fingers near your kneecap.

"Now, what am I?"

You keep stubbornly quiet. Humming, the large moth brushes his fingers down the back of your calf, chattering at the full body jerk you give.

"Once again, what am I?"

"A liar, because you lied!" You squawk mid-laugh, playfully gasping in mock horror. Bruno chirps in laughter, releasing you to flip over.

"Haha, now you're a filthy cusser like me!"

You groan, rolling over to nudge his wings so you can snuggle beneath. He lifts it without fuss, purring when you nuzzle your face into his chest fluff.

"Mmmn, love you B."

His chest vibrates with a fierce purr, and you grin. Grumbling past the motor in his chest, Bruno mumbles, "You only love me for my purring."

"Well, the fuzz is a nice addition."

"I will throw you off this bed, don't try me."

"Bet."

You found yourself face down n the floor less than two seconds later and not at all pissed.