artemiisx

[artemiisx]

“perhaps in another life”

bellamy blake x reader ᭡༄

summary: a diary entry by gf!reader, wishing the love her and bellamy shared for each other was normal “like in the movies”, and hadn’t been formed on bonded trauma.

cw: heavy angst, jasper being struck by a spear, talk of trauma (the agony the 100 had to experience)

perhaps in another life, fear would be foreign, a phrase we envy. possibly in another timeline, we would have exchanged glances—a flash of remembrance of the reverence and ache we once knew. a flicker of understanding, a chance to salvage the connection we had before.

or perhaps, we’d be hesitant to approach one another. if we were to close our eyes and flicker to another time, another universe of our lives, we’d linger a gaze, but turn, diminishing the fleeting feeling of deja-vu.

unlike now, where limited time dissolves hesitation. for at any moment, danger could arise, and worry would build our walls. for if we imagine this separate life, we meet, and the paranoia we shared seeps through—our new selves mistaking it for danger, not for what it is—an endless connection we once had, lingering. a connection formed from the bonds of trauma.

for if we were never sent to the ground—to earth—a dream we once had, we would have never had to bear the unwavering sense of paranoia, sorrow, ache, torment, or salvage. if it had never started with jasper being mauled by a spear, many had never died, massacres had never occurred, and we never knew of the city of light, perhaps we could reminisce about our love without the reminder of the unavoidable, chest-tightening, shared memories of agony forming our bond.

we wish we could relish our connection, without the pain of enduring havoc and torment. only if our past ancestors had prepared the future for us. instead of destroying any path we pursue. the city of light, and alie, i refer.

[artemiisx]

guidelines ᥫ᭡

requests are always welcome! however, i will NOT write smut, hard or dark kinks, illegal sexual acts, abuse, or anything relating to those. go ahead get off my page if you wish to request those.

what i will write is, fluff, angst, yearners, making out, and suggestive language.

i mainly write for the 100 and teen wolf (stiles stilinski specifically). nonetheless, feel free to request other films or fandoms as long as it follows these guidelines!

additionally, let me make it clear that any racism, homophobia, or sexism, will not be tolerated.

[artemiisx]

welcome to my blog!

navigation ↘︎

masterlist + guidelines

i’m new to fanfic writing, (but not reading) so apologies as not all of my works will be fantastic ᰔ i do not write smutt

[artemiisx]

my account is currently under construction as i’m revising, updating, and redesigning OLD fics of mine. so apologies if some are disappearing! they’re currently privated as i continue to revise them.

[artemiisx]

“perhaps in another life”

bellamy blake x reader ᭡༄

summary: a diary entry by gf!reader, wishing the love her and bellamy shared for each other was normal “like in the movies”, and hadn’t been formed on bonded trauma.

cw: heavy angst, jasper being struck by a spear, talk of trauma (the agony the 100 had to experience)

perhaps in another life, fear would be foreign, a phrase we envy. possibly in another timeline, we would have exchanged glances—a flash of remembrance of the reverence and ache we once knew. a flicker of understanding, a chance to salvage the connection we had before.

or perhaps, we’d be hesitant to approach one another. if we were to close our eyes and flicker to another time, another universe of our lives, we’d linger a gaze, but turn, diminishing the fleeting feeling of deja-vu.

unlike now, where limited time dissolves hesitation. for at any moment, danger could arise, and worry would build our walls. for if we imagine this separate life, we meet, and the paranoia we shared seeps through—our new selves mistaking it for danger, not for what it is—an endless connection we once had, lingering. a connection formed from the bonds of trauma.

for if we were never sent to the ground—to earth—a dream we once had, we would have never had to bear the unwavering sense of paranoia, sorrow, ache, torment, or salvage. if it had never started with jasper being mauled by a spear, many had never died, massacres had never occurred, and we never knew of the city of light, perhaps we could reminisce about our love without the reminder of the unavoidable, chest-tightening, shared memories of agony forming our bond.

we wish we could relish our connection, without the pain of enduring havoc and torment. only if our past ancestors had prepared the future for us. instead of destroying any path we pursue. the city of light, and alie, i refer.

[artemiisx]

a reblog for my most popular fic (totally not just reposting fics cause i haven’t written any new ones lately)

Do you feel Bonita?

stiles stilinski x reader

c/w: kissing, fluff

───────────────

ᥫ᭡

You’re kissing Stiles, well aware of the lipstick on your lips being transferred to his.

You snicker at every peck—lipstick reddening his lips. Stiles was too into the makeout to realize your ever so often giggling. Until now, where he’s about to faint from being so flustered. He parts his lips from yours, leaning back on his elbows.

You snicker once again, the lipstick shade matching his flushed cheeks. He raises a brow, confused.

“What?” He says.

You take your phone out of your pocket, showing him his reflection.

“Oh.. my god.” He says, attempting to wipe the color off—but instead smearing it.

You laugh, trying to compose yourself to help him out. You lift your thumb to his lips, cleaning up any color that’s out of his lip-line.

“Much better,” you respond.

Stiles puckers his lips, looking into the camera.

You snicker once again—“Do you feel.. Bonita?”

Stiles’ eyes quickly look to you, playful disappointment on his face.

You lose your composure, busting out laughing.

Stiles smiles, laughing with you.

“Yes, I feel very Bonita. Thank you.”

He kisses your cheek, planting a stain, and chuckles.

[artemiisx]

Thanks for making that post about censorship made it a lot easier to go through and block all of you

Censorship is just a threat made by the dominant political power, and it’s a promise of violence against those who wish to speak out against them. You do recognize that censorship in fandom has been deeply fought against since the 70s for this exact reason Because people were conflating queerness with pedophilia.

I think it’s really important for you to do a little introspection and understand that censorship truly only affects minorities. POC’s, women of color, queer people those are the people who get targeted first. Cis straight white men will not be held to the same standard they literally never are. 

And I never see you guys talking about censorship in mainstream media y’all could be fighting against HBO and Game of Thrones or that Yellowstone show that glorifies the rape and assault of indigenous people. If you truly care about that stuff being put out there for everybody to see then you should be going after these big corporations that are basically forcing it into the homes of everybody, not niche little Internet creators were the only people who are reading that stuff are the people who are actively seeking it out. Or why not go after all those weirdo horror fucks on YouTube they make videos, glorifying, rape and assault and child sexual assault. I don’t see y’all talking about them. Or all those horribly disgusting misogynistic podcast Bros you could be directing your energy towards them. You know the ones with millions of young impressionable male followers. 

I’ve been raped my 5 different men I was raped from the age of nine until 15 by my father. Not a single one of them knew anything about fanfiction or fandom spaces, but they did watch Game of Thrones. I may not read non-con or dub con stuff, but it’s not actively harming me so why should I care. what is actively harming me is mainstream media red pilling all these boys and making it seem normal to rape and assault I guarantee you the people who are actually out on the street doing these heinous crimes are not reading fanfiction.

Take your energy and apply it somewhere that actually matters because I guarantee you these people that you’re complaining about are more likely to be the ones to help you when shit hits the fan than anyone else

Just like, a lot of the stuff you said, was very similar to Nazi rhetoric and extremely similar to stuff that the current American dictatorship is trying to do.

Pls read 1984 by George Orwell

Hi, I want to start by saying I’m genuinely sorry for the horrific experiences you’ve been through. No one should ever have to endure that kind of trauma, and your voice—and your pain—deserve to be acknowledged with care and respect.

That said, I want to clarify a few things about my post and where I’m coming from. I wasn’t advocating for state-mandated censorship, nor was I aligning myself with any authoritarian regime or fascist ideology. My concerns weren’t about silencing queer voices, POC, or marginalized creators. In fact, many of the people speaking up about harm in fandom spaces are queer, POC, survivors, and women ourselves.

The discussion around certain kinds of content in fandom isn’t about moral panic or policing thought crimes—it’s about how trauma, abuse, and violence are depicted and consumed in ways that sometimes normalize or romanticize real harm, especially when it’s divorced from context, nuance, or critique. It’s fair to ask questions about that. That isn’t censorship—it’s accountability.

You’re absolutely right that mainstream media deserves just as much, if not more, critique for the way it platforms violence, misogyny, and racialized harm. I do speak up about those things, and many of us can hold both ideas at once: that fandom is important and not above critique.

I also want to say that telling people to “go fight the real enemy” can unintentionally erase the way niche internet spaces shape people’s views. Just because fanfiction isn’t mainstream doesn’t mean it exists in a vacuum. Culture is formed in both big and small spaces, and both can reinforce harmful narratives if left unexamined.

You don’t have to agree with me, but equating my concern with “Nazi rhetoric” or calling it a threat to free speech isn’t accurate or fair. The point is to protect each other, not silence. And I think we both want a world where people are safer, not more harmed. That’s where I’m coming from, even if our paths to get there look different.

(and I have read 1984 twice in fact.)

[artemiisx]

ok sorry but why are we writing “sexist” au’s of characters 😭😭😭 women did not fight for this pls this is where i draw the line i #lovewomen and #lovewomensrights

[artemiisx]

g’morning

cw: pure fluff (no smut)

stiles stilinski x reader

──────────────────

You wake up, the sun glaring through the windows.

The sheets were warm with sleep, clinging to your skin like a second embrace.

Beside you, the bed dipped where Stiles lay, propped on one elbow, his fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes into your shoulder.

His thumb would graze your temple, slow and reverent, like tracing the edge of a prayer.

A soft dawn light would radiate off his skin, and his eyes—honey brown.

"Morning" he smiles.

You could hear the birds, sure—but also the faint creak of the bedframe as he shifted closer, the sound of his breathing syncing with yours.

It was soft. Real. Radiant. Like something out of a movie—except it was yours. Stiles saw all the beauty in you, and you loved him for every bit of it, and more.

You’d had mornings where waking meant panic. Rushing, Silence. But this—this was stillness wrapped in honey.

The way his tone always had a gentleness to it, the way moles and freckles scattered along his skin—and the way his eyes twinkled. His love, almost intoxicating.

"I’ll make breakfast," you say, asking if he wants anything special.

Sitting up with you and lifting your hand to his lips, he'd kiss your hand.

“Could I help make it?”

You muttered a soft curse under your breath, too overwhelmed by how gentle he was with you. Your finger twitched against the sheet, as if unsure whether to hold him or hide, amid his apparent perfection.

"No. Let me do this for you." You'd quietly laugh, only to cover your incomposure.

He fakes offense when you refuse.

You'd get out of bed—ever so slightly too fast, a brief showing of the vulnerability you were attempting to hide.

In a moment of assurance, you'd turn back around, placing a kiss on his cheek before scurrying off.

a/n: i would like to thank @lov3lyl3tters for helping/collabing updating this old fic! be sure to go read her debates and fics :)

(updated and revised)

[artemiisx]

Do you feel Bonita?

stiles stilinski x reader

c/w: kissing, fluff

───────────────

ᥫ᭡

You’re kissing Stiles, well aware of the lipstick on your lips being transferred to his.

You snicker at every peck—lipstick reddening his lips. Stiles was too into the makeout to realize your ever so often giggling. Until now, where he’s about to faint from being so flustered. He parts his lips from yours, leaning back on his elbows.

You snicker once again, the lipstick shade matching his flushed cheeks. He raises a brow, confused.

“What?” He asks.

You take your phone out of your pocket, showing him his reflection.

“Oh.. my god.” He says, attempting to wipe the color off—but instead smearing it.

You laugh, trying to compose yourself to help him out. You lift your thumb to his lips, cleaning up any color that’s out of his lip-line.

“Much better,” you respond.

Stiles puckers his lips, looking into the camera.

You snicker once again—“Do you feel.. Bonita?”

Stiles’ eyes quickly look to you, playful disappointment on his face.

You lose your composure, busting out laughing.

Stiles smiles, laughing with you.

“Yes, I feel very Bonita. Thank you.”

He kisses your cheek, planting a stain, and chuckles.

(updated and revised)

[artemiisx]

heaven

c/w: heavy yearning, fluff, bellamy blake x fem!reader

If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it - shakespeare

collab with my pookiedoodle @lov3lyl3tters

━━━━━━━━━━━

The first time he sees you after the drop, you’re covered in soot and blood—not yours, he hopes—and barking orders at people twice your size.

Bellamy doesn’t know it yet, but he’s already ruined.

You challenge him. Every damn day. You call him out when no one else dares to. You see through him, through all the walls and bark and armor he throws up around himself, and it infuriates him. It scares him. It draws him in like nothing else ever has.

You don’t belong in this place, not really. Not in the dirt and the war and the hunger. You talk about the sky like it’s poetry and hold dying kids like it doesn’t break you inside. And he knows—he knows—he’s the wrong kind of person for someone like you.

But that doesn’t stop him from looking at your mouth when you talk. From dreaming about your voice. From thinking about what your skin would feel like under his hands, what your laugh would sound like if you weren’t constantly worried someone was going to die that day.

It’s late when it happens.

The fire’s dying down—the others are asleep, and you’re standing just outside the camp with your arms crossed, watching the trees like you’re waiting for something. For someone.

“You know it’s not safe out here alone,” he says, coming up beside you.

You don’t look at him. “Since when do you care if I’m safe?”

He flinches, just slightly. “Always have.”

You glance at him then, eyebrows raised like you don’t believe him. Like you’re used to him pushing and pulling, throwing barbed comments, and then bleeding behind closed doors.

“Then why do you act like you hate me half the time?” you ask, voice low.

He exhales through his nose. Looks down. “Because I do.”

That makes you blink.

Bellamy lifts his eyes to yours again. There’s something raw in his expression. Unfiltered. Wrecked. “I hate how you make me feel—I hate that I want you when I’ve got blood on my hands—That I think about kissing you when I should be thinking about how to keep you alive.”

You stare at him, breathing shallowly.

He takes a step closer.

“If I were to kiss you,” he says, voice quiet and rough, “then go to hell for it, I would.”

You swallow hard.

“I’d go gladly,” he adds, eyes locked on yours. “So I could sit there with the devils and brag that I saw heaven… without ever entering it.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Not with the way his words split you open.

You stammer, trying to brew up a response. This was—unexpected, but in the best way possible. For someone to say that they’d love you to the ends of the Earth, and beyond heaven or hell,

Who wouldn’t wish they had that? Such a love that was soft and surprising, not loud—but enough for people to hear.

This was Bellamy Blake.

A man you’ve been tied to since you landed here. Someone who may seem strict, or rude to others, but looking past the quick responses and orders, lay someone with care in their heart.

Bellamy Blake, who would rather yell at people for their safety—than take a risk that could kill them. Someone who genuinely cared for the lives of his people.

You inhale sharply, reminding yourself to breathe.

You exhale a laugh of relief, dropping your head down to rest on his chest.

He goes to speak—but you interrupt

“You—you don’t need to say anything else. You’ve already won me over, Blake.��� “Just, give me a second.”

The late-night ‘high’ sending a confession through. You and him were alone together, suffocated by the overwhelming realization of confession. Of love. A peaceful and quiet night despite the ruckus that occurs every day.

You sigh, looking up at him.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna kiss me already?” You smirk.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Smiling into the kiss, he grabs you, pulling you in.

Who knew Bellamy Blake was such a yearner?

[artemiisx]

princess

bellamy blake x fem!reader

summary: you’re dating bellamy. he’s helping you get ready for a clan meeting in polis.

cw: overprotectiveness, fluff, no smut

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ᥫ᭡

as bellamy is helping you get ready, you ask if he likes your dress. after all, this clan meeting is very crucial and having the wrong first impression could be unavailing.

you exhale in contentment.

“how do i look?” you say, turning towards him.

he stands up from the chair he’s sitting in and walks towards you.

“you look beautiful, princess.”

you smile.

he bends down in front of you, slipping your heels on your feet.

“however," he says, looking up at you and tugging at the hem of your dress— "I wish it were longer.

you roll your eyes playfully.

“but you can wear whatever you want princess.” he says as he leans forward kissing your thigh, then standing back up.

“i can fight.”

wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you chuckle.

“you sure?” you say sarcastically.

he makes a snarky remark, before leaning in to kiss you.

kissing him, you relax in his arms.

[artemiisx]

thanks

bellamy x fem!reader

summary: reader gets into a fight, bellamy helps to take care of her

warnings: blood, small amount of angst, fluff, kissing, no smut.

(this was a collaborative, co-written fic with my pook @lov3lyl3tters ღ)

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You hiss under your breath as you dab a damp cloth against the cut on your cheek, the sting sharp enough to make you mutter a curse. The makeshift tent around you offers little comfort—just a flimsy barrier against the chaos of camp outside. The fight had been… stupid. Some girl had decided she didn’t like your tone, and fists had flown before either of you could think better of it. You weren’t even sure who won, but judging by the throbbing ache in your ribs and the bruise forming on your jaw, you didn’t come out unscathed.

“You look like hell.”

The deep, familiar voice makes you groan before you even look up. Bellamy Blake is standing at the entrance of your tent, arms crossed, head tilted just enough to make it clear he’s been watching for a second.

“Thanks, Bell. That’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.”

He steps inside, ignoring the bite in your tone as he crouches down in front of you. His gaze flickers over your face, assessing, calculating. It’s not the first time you’ve been in a fight—hell, it’s not even the first time he’s found you in this exact situation. But there’s something different about the way he looks at you now, something softer than the usual expression.

“Here,” he says, pulling a damp cloth from his belt. “You’re doing a crap job. Let me.”

You hesitate, but before you can argue, he’s already reaching for your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, fingers brushing against your skin as he wipes away the dried blood near your temple. The warmth of his hand lingers, a stark contrast to the cold air sneaking through the tent’s flimsy walls.

“You should see the other girl,” you mumble, watching his face.

Bellamy chuckles, shaking his head. “I did. She looks better than you.”

“Ouch.” You place a dramatic hand over your heart. “That’s not very leaderly of you, Blake.”

“Leaderly isn’t a word.”

“It is if I say it is, grammar police.”

Bellamy scoffs, a slight smirk on his face.

Despite the bickering, Bellamy continued to be gentle—patching up the gash on your face.

The air was silent, the tension increasing when Bellamy made eye contact with you. A stare that lasted a little too long for the both of you. Bellamy quickly broke the silence when clearing his throat.

“Okay. You’re all patched up.” He says, stepping back and discarding the gauze.

Avoiding eye contact, you respond. “Thanks.”

You can feel Bellamy’s gaze lingering on you, the awkward tension in the air increasing once again.

You look up at him, gaze not falling. Neither of you speaks—the air engulfed in stillness.

He steps closer, movements careful—gentle, like you’re something fragile.

He smooths his fingers over your temple, brushing hair out of your face. He’s close enough that you could feel the warmth of your breath reflecting off him.

Your lips part slightly—looking down at Bellamy’s. Looking into his eyes, they're filled softly with yearning.

“Bellamy..” you whisper.

Placing his hands in your hair, Bellamy leans in, closing the space between your lips.

A moment of silence that confessed everything. A moment that told the untold. The confession of glances that were too long, or the stubbornness that was really care.

You part lips, foreheads resting on each other. The flush of cheeks and pants of breath overwhelmed the atmosphere in the tent.

“Try not to get in any more fights, yeah?” Bellamy smirked.

You scoff, a smile on your face. “I got in a fight and it led to this, why wouldn’t I do it again?” You smirk, leaning your head back to look at him.

“You won’t need to.” He addressed, reconnecting your lips to his.

[artemiisx]

does anyone have any ideas on who i should write fics about? i mostly do bellamy blake and stiles stilinski, but im looking to write for more ꨄ

ps, i have a bunch of ffs coming out soon, so stay tuned ᵕ̈

[artemiisx]

ෆ

ur bellamy fics have me glued to my phone bae omg

AHHHH TYYYY

there were almost no new bellamy fics so my pookie bookie bear and me got to work🧎‍♀️

[artemiisx]

WHY IS EVERYTHING CIRCULAR????? BRING MY SQUARES BACK

[artemiisx]

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WHY IS EVERYTHING SO LARGE