#Flowerfang

[fosterova]

they are napping! miles here is just like a cat that fell asleep on you, rendering you unmovable ;D and he has someone to watch over him and yeah miles is still 18

[louisandfri3nds]

Ship tags

Ok ok ok I see a lot of ppl asking what tag/label each atsv character has for being shipped Miles = Flower (For his favorite song) Gwen = Ghost (She's called Ghost-spider sometimes) Hobie = Punk (He's legit Spider-Punk) Pavitr = Chai/Golden (Some people prefer not to use 'Chai', as it bases his character around a joke he made) Margo = Byte (She's Spider-Byte) Miles 42 = Claw/Prowler (I think its for his Prowler claws, the other is obvious) Miguel = Fang (This is obvious.) Ganke = Code (He likes computer stuff?? idk I'm not into Ganke lore don't come at me) Ship names I've collected: Miles x Hobie = Punkflower and/or Flowerpunk (Punkflower is more popular) Miles x Gwen = Gwiles/Ghostflower Miles x Pavitr = Goldenflower/Chaiflower Hobie x Pavitr = Punkchai/Goldenpunk Gwen x Hobie = Ghostpunk Miles x Hobie x Pavitr = Goldenpunkflower/Punkchaiflower Miles x Hobie x Gwen = Ghostpunkflower/Punkghostflower (unsure) Miles x Margo = Flowerbyte (I think so??) Miles 42 x Hobie = Punkclaw/Punkprowler (I don't actually know) Miles 42 x Margo = Prowlerbyte ? (I'm kinda unsure of what it is, it might be smth else) Miles x Ganke = Milesganke Miles 42 x Ganke = Clawcode (I think-) Miles 42 x Miles = Milescest (I DO NOT SHIP THIS??) Miguel x Miles = Flowerfang (yes this is a ship. yes I hate it. no don't search it up.) Thats about it, someone plz lemmie know about the Miles 42 x Margo thing (I know its a ship I've seen it)

[darkfoxkirin]

Miles and Miguel going to therapy and flirting- (Fell into the flowerfang fandom... 😩)

[zombu7]

[dumdumraph]

deleted scene

[vissc3ra]

Miles’ new suit design from Malamente, my Miles/Miguel timeskip fic where Miles is 20, a little jaded, and needs an Edgy suit to match. Modified from one of the Kris Anka concepts.

[insomniiyac]

It's been so long since Miggy’s gotten dressed up to go out that he's forgotten how to tie his tie~

(Extra under the cut)

[gorse-bush]

I'm just bored dbjfkd

[whimmywhimwhim]

flash warning.

[scribespirare]

ummm so your bio says requests are open and u were talking about alpha miguel and omega miles could u maybe write about them?

Oh hell yes!! It's been ages since I got a request this is gonna be fun >=3

"Jesus Christ can you chill for, like, two seconds?"

Miguel's gaze snaps away from the man he'd just sent running, down to Miles. His snarl relaxes by the most minuscule of fractions, which Miles takes as a good sign. But his red eyes narrow in annoyance, which Miles knows definitely is not.

"Sorry," Miguel says with zero remorse, contrition, or believability. His voice comes out all gruff and slightly slurred through the barrier of two sets of fangs: one Alphean, one spider. "But you have got to be smarter about-"

Miles flaps an errant hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah my pheromones bring all the spiders to the yard, I know, we've been over this a million times-" Miguel's eyes narrow to slits, the red barely visible now, and Miles quickly tries to backtrack "-aaaand I appreciate that! I really do! You're looking out for my best interests and all that, I just, you know, can handle myself! I mean I beat y'all once and-"

Apparently done with his shit, Miguel leaps down from his work platform, performing a perfect superhero landing that normally Miles would drag him over the coals for. But today he bites his tongue. And is very glad that he does when Miguel stands and immediately grabs Miles by the nape, hauling him in close and leaning down to kiss him.

Miles melts into the embrace with a happy if a bit confused hum. The thick fingers on his neck press lightly at the pressure points there, and Miguel's thumb slides along the curve of his throat to brush his scent gland. It's almost enough to make Miles forget about Miguel's stupid Alpha posturing from moments before.

Almost.

One of the things that most of the spider-people share that Miles does not, is their second gender. Well, those of them with a second gender anyways. Boy what a shock it had been to learn that some universes don't have them.

All of that is to say though that most spider-people are Alphas, through and through.

Not Miles though. Another sign that his is a destiny that he has chosen, not one he was given. And he's proud of that, really! It's just kind of hard to navigate spider society sometimes when few people are expecting the scent of young, recently-presented Omega to waft among them. It's...caused problems.

And then there's Miguel. Huge and brooding and so fucking territorial that Miles doesn't know if he should kill or jump the Alpha. Maybe both. They haven't been together for very long, but it's long enough that Miguel is getting increasingly incensed at the various spider-people that follow Miles around anytime he visits HQ. It's equal parts hot and annoying. Like, Miles has saved the entire multi-verse. Twice. He can handle a few knothead Alphas!

But tell that to Mr. Snarls over here, still kissing the daylights out of Miles. By the time Miguel pulls back Miles is breathless and a touch lightheaded.

"This," Miles says, panting, and holds up a finger up to motion between them, "does not let you off the hook, mister."

"Cállate, pup," Miguel responds, squeezing at Miles' nape. "If you didn't want to see me be jealous, you should have come in alone. I know you're capable of sneaking around unnoticed, why do you insist on letting half the Alphas here trail after you like lovesick puppies?"

"Maybe because I already have to lie about you being my Alpha, and I don't want to have to sneak around to see you on top of that."

Miguel softens. "You know that's-"

"I know," Miles cuts in, reaching up to touch Miguel's face. And he does. Miles is only fifteen and Miguel over twice that; they know how they look from the outside. So they've kept this under the tables. No bonding, no marking, no scenting. Not until Miles is older and more prepared for the consequences. And he gets it, really, he's as eager as Miguel is to be bonded.

But Miguel growls, suddenly pissed all over again, his teeth visibly gnashing. "No, you don't! You don't get it. Watching all these Alphas flock to you, but not being able to claim you, prove that you're mine, tell them that they need to back the fuck off? It's hell, Miles. ¿Que quieres que haga? ¿Sólo mirar?"

"No!" Miles protests, but Miguel steamrolls on.

"How would you feel if you saw me surrounded by Omegas all the time? Would you want to be told that you're overreacting-"

"Collar me!" The words are out before Miles can stop them and he cringes back, eyes shut tight as if against a physical blow. But none comes, of course. Their days of violence are mostly behind them.

When he opens his eyes, Miguel is staring down at him, brow knit in confusion.

"Collar me," Miles repeats, a little unsure. When his Alpha doesn't respond Miles licks his lips and continues, calming the longer he speaks. "We can get one of those collars for unbonded Omegas, no tag, no engraving. But it'll be yours and we'll both know it. Maybe we could personalize it or something too. And it'll keep Alphas from ogling my neck. Deal?"

Up until now Miles has refused to wear a collar; he finds them primitive and old fashioned. Why the hell should he have to hide his neck? Just to appease the egos of a bunch of Alphas? Fuck that!

But now that it's not a collar meant to protect his modesty or some shit, but a symbol of a relationship? Well. The Omega in him practically preens at the idea of getting to wear a mark of ownership from Miguel.

And if the way Miguel's pupils are dilating he likes the idea too.

"Christ, pup. No sabes lo que me haces," he rumbles, all low and throaty in that way that makes Miles shiver. "Yeah, let's get you a collar. But first-"

Miguel tugs Miles close again and, with zero hesitation, sinks his teeth into Miles' throat. Miles yelps at the sudden pain but it's gone as quick as it came, Miguel's lips and tongue kissing and sucking at the same spot until Miles' knees go weak.

When Miguel decides he's done, Miles is wet and trembling from head to toe. He reaches up to touch what he knows is going to be a massive bruise very soon, "What-?"

"So you can't take the collar off once I've got it on you," Miguel says, his smirk showing off his fangs.

It takes Miles a moment to process, then his jaw drops. "You dick! We don't even have it yet, how am I supposed to go anywhere with this!?"

Miguel just laughs and tugs him close again.

[fosterova]

YASSS I FINALLY DID IT! Although I couldn’t come up with cool dialogues (thank you mr anon for the idea again, love you!). So umm I highly encourage you to help me make the dialogues in replies\comments\asks\messages even idk might as well make a version with the text too :3

Oh yeah, forgot to add that Miles is 18 here

[muchymozzarella]

Very few people understand the unmatched euphoria of having an amazing artist do ENTIRE COMICS of your fanfic unprompted

And that happened to me in 2023. In the same year I finished a long fic for the first time in almost 2 decades of writing fanfic.

One was a comic based on my long fic Gato, where older Miles and Miguel get together

And the other is based on a Gato future/past time travel fic called Bienvenido Arañito, a pure fluff fic where younger Miles meets post happy ending Miguel and finds out he's married to his future self

Art by PIYO @OZ_174 on Twitter! I'll be forever grateful that an amazing artist like PIYO-nim got so inspired by my fics.

[darkfoxkirin]

The second picture I made of my Android Apocalypse AU. Miguel thinks Miles is dead, mirroring the scene from The Iron Giant since Miguel goes apeshit after this. (Miles is fine, just hurt and knocked out.)

[flowerbitezubbie]

doodle dump pt.1

[kb-mon]

Bottom miguelitos

[towine]

jealous!miguel seized my mind and wouldn’t let go. i wrote this to get it out of my system (it’s 1.5k) but then i went ‘hmm this could be a 5+1 wouldn’t that be funny hahahha.’ said me, who has negative free time.

anyway. 

this is vaguely post-canon somewhere. rated T at most. jealous!miguel. oblivious!miles. posting this here because i don’t know for sure that i’ll write more, and i don’t like leaving a WIP up in the air on ao3. hope you enjoy it <3

-

-

Miles is at a backyard party talking to a girl—an older girl he recognizes from his school’s robotics club, who just won State this year—and she’s laughing at his jokes, touching his arm as he speaks, tilting her head to the side as she listens to Miles fumble through an anecdote from his physics class.

And Miles dares to think… she might be into him? In the back of his mind he hears his uncle saying, I cannot have a nephew of mine on the streets with no game.

He looks at her shoulder, right there within reach. He lifts his hand and readies a, Hey, on his tongue—

The watch on his arm flares to life.

“Whoa,” the girl says, blinking. “Cool watch. What brand is that?”

“Uh—!” Miles claps a hand over the screen, which doesn’t stop the orange light from spilling through his fingers. “It’s, like, some foreign brand, you probably don’t know it.”

“You hit your steps goal or something?” she jokes as the watch continues to buzz.

Miles laughs weakly. “Yeah, something like that.”

Cupping his hand over the screen, he takes a glance to see what the alert is.

ANOMALY DETECTED. LOCATION: EARTH-1610. INCOMING ASSISTANCE: MIGUEL O’HARA.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Miles says.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Miles tugs his jacket sleeve over the watch. The girl looks at him with a hint of concern, head tilted, earrings shining from the lights strung up all around the backyard. She’s really pretty. “Nothing’s wrong, I just, uh…” He sighs, drags a hand over his face. “I… have to go. I’m really sorry—it’s, like, an emergency, and I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t really important.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” She looks a little disappointed.

“No, I mean it,” Miles says. Mentally, he’s screaming at himself to rein it in because it’s not that serious, but he just hates the idea of her thinking he’s running away because she’s somehow less than. “You’re like, really cool and I like talking to you and if you’re still around when I’m done and want to hang out, I’d be down for that, but if you’re not around or just don’t want to, that’s cool too—”

A pair of lips press against his cheek.

Miles shuts his mouth.

He can feel the waxiness of lipstick imprinting on his skin, and hears the gentle smack when the lips pull away.

“I’d like that,” the girl says, grinning now. “But right now, relax and go deal with your emergency.”

The earth is spinning. Miles can’t tell up from down.

“Okay,” he says dumbly, fingers touching his cheek. “Cool.”

“Cool.” She gives him a little wave.

Miles stumbles on his shoes on the way out, waving back at her like an idiot.

He’s so high on cloud nine that he nearly forgot what the emergency was in the first place.

“Miguel,” he says, tapping on the watch. “I’m here, where you at?”

“Oh so now Spider-Man is open for business?” Miguel grouches, voice tinny over the speakers. His projection flares up from the watch. His mask is on, the red outline of his eyes bunched up in annoyance.

“Not my fault I have a life here!”

Miguel shakes his head. “I’m in Queens. Sending coordinates. Apúrate.”

The call ends.

“Nice to see you too,” Miles mutters and pulls his mask over his face.

He and Miguel have worked together on a handful of occasions, with Miguel sounding greatly put upon each time. It’s not really fair—Miles likes to think he’s gotten pretty good at this Spider-Man stuff by now—but from what he’s heard through the gossip at HQ, Miguel is just kind of like that with everyone. Blunt. Snappish. Open in his preference for working alone.

If Miles had any say in it, he’d leave Miguel well alone. But their paths keep crossing somehow, and truth be told, there are far worse partners to have in a fight than the ninja vampire Miguel O’Hara.

“About time you showed up!” Miguel says when Miles finally makes it to the coordinates he sent.

Miles is about to respond when a blast of electricity snaps through the air, and Miguel leaps out of the way, catching the next building with his clawed hands. Miles swings after him.

“You know New York is big, right?” Miles says, following Miguel as he bounds over walls and rooftops. “And that we don’t have the same technology as, oh I don’t know, Nueva York eight decades in the future.”

“Yeah, well, while you were taking your sweet time, this guy’s been blasting through the neighborhood.”

Said guy possesses the power of electricity, it looks like. Kind of cool, Miles has to admit, until he throws an arc of lightning Miles’s way and Miles has to yelp and duck.

“Okay, I can see why you needed me,” Miles admits.

Miguel scoffs. “Right. Follow my lead, then do your thing.”

His thing. As if Miles hadn’t used it in the not-so-distant past to leech the very suit Miguel is wearing.

“You’re the boss,” Miles sighs.

Miguel doesn’t respond, just heads towards today’s villain with a powerful leap and a blur of red webs.

Miguel draws the fight away from the residential buildings and into a factory yard by the waterfront, arcs of lightning following him all the while. Electro, Miles learns from a handful of villain monologues later, doesn’t go down easily, especially after siphoning energy from the nearby power lines to make himself faster and more agile. But his fatal flaw seems to be his ego—Miles latches onto him mid-rant about some company called Oscorp, and in the ensuing tussle, Miles lays his hands on Electro’s shoulders and starts to drain him.

“What are you doing?” Electro demands, watching in horror as all the energy he gathered flows out of him and into Miles.

“Sorry, man,” Miles says. “Nothing personal.”

The ensuing venom blast is the strongest Miles has ever done. It leaves a smoking crater in the ground, Electro lying unconscious in the center of it.

Miles shakes out his hands, jittery from residual static.

“Finally,” Miguel says, landing on the ground next to him. He drops his mask, and Miles can see the disgruntled look on his face. “Thought he’d never shut up.”

“You’re welcome,” Miles says.

Miguel shoots him a glance before bending down to wrap Electro in webs. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Just saying, you’re lucky he ended up in my dimension.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, but it isn’t with quite as much annoyance as Miles has seen in the past. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“You want a gold star or something?” Miguel says.

Miles shrugs. “Just a ‘thank you’ would be nice. Or even ‘good work.’” The smell of charred villain is cloying in Miles’s nose, so he tugs his mask off for some fresh air.

Miguel straightens, looking down at his watch to type in coordinates, and he says offhandedly, “Alright, alright.” He turns to Miles. “Good work—”

He stops.

Miles raises an eyebrow when a few seconds pass and Miguel doesn’t say anything. “What?”

Miguel points to his cheek. “Your mom kiss you before you left?”

“What?”

And then Miles remembers.

The lipstick.

“Oh!” he says, face turning so hot. “No, ’course not. That’s just, uh—”

—a girl he was trying to get lucky with. But there’s no way Miles is going to admit that to anyone, let alone Miguel.

“I told you I have a life, man. I do see people outside of Spider-Man stuff.” He brings a hand up to wipe the lipstick away.

A warm hand takes his chin.

Miles’s breath stops in his lungs.

He didn’t notice Miguel had gotten so close. His grip is firm, but not ungentle. He turns Miles’s head to look at him, and his face is… Miles doesn’t even know how to characterize his expression. Miguel has gone very still, his breath coming in and out of him in deep, even exhales. He’s staring fixedly at the kiss. His eyes are dark.

He rubs his thumb along Miles’s cheek in a slow, heavy drag. Wiping the kiss away. Replacing it with the burn of his own touch.

Miles’s stomach jolts, and his skin goes hot all over.

What is happening?

“M-Miguel?” he says hoarsely.

Miguel doesn’t hear him. He’s still looking at Miles’s cheek, and his lip curls slightly in disdain, enough for Miles to see the hint of a pointed canine. The grip on Miles’s chin digs in a little deeper.

“Miguel,” Miles says again, louder.

Miguel blinks. Clarity comes back to his eyes.

He drops Miles as if burned.

“Shit,” he says, stepping away. Miles’s skin feels cold without his touch. “I— Sorry.”

Miles opens his mouth to say it’s okay but the words get stuck in his throat.

“Are you okay?” Miles asks instead. His heart is hammering in his chest, hard and loud enough that surely Miguel can hear it.

“Fine,” Miguel snaps. He has one hand on his head like he’s fighting off a headache. “I just— I gotta go.”

He calls a portal. It bursts open in a familiar cacophony of orange light.

“Okay,” Miles says faintly, watching Miguel grab Electro with a handful of webs.

Miguel spares him one last look. Again, Miles can’t tell what emotion to read from his face. He’s struck by the urge to move closer, to find what Miguel keeps from him.

But then Miguel says quietly, “Good work today,” turns around, and disappears through the portal.

Miles is left alone in the cold night air, the silence heavy all around him.

He brings his fingers to his cheek, where his skin still throbs from the memory of Miguel’s touch. His stomach squirms.

“What the fuck?” Miles says.