It's The Stalker.

felix and his gf being at saltburn and felix noticed ollie acting weird towards her and gets upset at him!!!!!!

The eyes, Chico. || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: YAY TY FOR THE REQUEST! PLS SEND THRU MORE

Warnings: fem!reader, Oliver being a creep, swearing, smoking, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 826

Felix Catton Masterlist

Feeling Felix’s thumb rub circles on your back, you flutter your eyes open and are met with his smile. "Mornin', baby," he greets you, and you respond with a lazy smile, relishing the comforting embrace of his body. His chuckle resonates through his chest, a gentle vibration against you. "It's too early, Felix," you murmur softly, wanting to fall back into slumber.

"Breakfast starts soon, aren't you hungry?" Felix questions, a playful tone lacing his words. You shake your head. "Yes, you are. Don't lie. I can hear your stomach," he asserts with a laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile in response. "Fine," you concede.

You and Felix make your way to the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast awaits. You greet everyone good morning, almost forgetting that Oliver is here at Saltburn too.

You don’t understand why Felix invited him over; they barely know each other. Even when you confront your boyfriend about it, he just says that he feels bad for him, that he's going through some things at home.

Honestly, he's sort of a strange guy. You always catch him looking away from you when you look at him, around school, his eyes widen the slightest when he sees you walking down the corridors, and then he focuses his gaze on the ground. One time, he even bumped into a pole because he wasn't looking where he was going.

But today, he seems even more odd. The unease is palpable as you sit down at the table. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a warm glow on the scene.

As you and Felix engage in light morning banter, you catch Oliver staring at you. His gaze is intense, lingering longer than is comfortable. At first, you dismiss it, thinking maybe he's just lost in thought. However, the oddity of his behavior becomes more apparent as the meal progresses.

Oliver’s eyes follow your every move, and you feel an unsettling awareness of his gaze on you. It’s as if his attention is fixated solely on you. You exchange a glance with Felix, who seems oblivious to Oliver’s strange behavior at first.

You try to focus on your plate, on the conversation with Felix, but the weight of Oliver’s gaze is distracting. It’s not the kind of attention you want or need, especially coming from a guy who's already odd enough.

You try to enjoy breakfast, but the uneasy feeling persists. Oliver’s eyes seem to follow you, and you sense a strange tension in the air. However, as the minutes pass, even Felix begins to sense the unease in the air.

“You alright, Ollie?” Felix's timely interjection is a relief. Oliver shifts his focus from you to Felix and responds with a casual, "Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." A smile graces his face as he savors a spoonful of breakfast as your eyes flicker between the two, watching the interaction. You can't help but wonder if Venetia or Farleigh picked up on the awkward tension in the air.

As breakfast concludes, you can’t shake off the lingering discomfort. “Remind me why you brought Oliver to Saltburn again?” You question your boyfriend beside you as you continue your skincare routine.

Felix, sensing the need for discretion, swiftly moves to the door leading to Oliver's room. "Shh, don't be so loud," he cautions in a hushed tone, closing the door behind him with a sense of urgency.

"Darling, I know he's been acting weird—" Felix begins, coming up behind you, but you swiftly cut him off. "Oh, he's been acting more than weird. I could barely focus at breakfast with his eyes on me," you huff, applying sunscreen to your face, preparing for a day out in the sun by the lake. The tension in the air is palpable as you address the unease surrounding Oliver's peculiar behavior.

"I know, I know. He just has a... tendency to stare. He's probably admiring how gorgeous you are. Aren't you used to the stares?" He bends down to kiss your cheek, and you roll your eyes in response.

"He should know it's rude to stare," you say in a sing-song voice as you pack up your skincare products. "Don't mind him," Felix adds, his large hands wrapping around your bare stomach, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

The hot temperature outside and the high UV ray lead you, Venetia, Farleigh, Felix, and Oliver outside to lounge by the lake. As you settle on the blanket, the odd tension with Oliver becomes more pronounced. He positions himself nearby, and you catch him stealing glances at you.

It’s not the casual glances friends share; they're lingering, intense stares that make you uneasy. You exchange puzzled glances with Venetia, both of you trying to make sense of Oliver’s peculiar behavior.

“That Oliver has a staring problem, doesn’t he?” Venetia comments, readjusting her sunglasses that sit on her nose. “You saw the stares this morning right?” You turn your head towards her as she does the same. “I think everyone could sense the awkwardness between you two.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and turning your head back. “He’s so strange. I still can’t wrap my head around why Felix invited him here.” You try to focus on the conversation with Venetia, hoping to ignore Oliver’s odd glances. However, his behavior persists.

As you and Venetia engage in conversation by the lounge chairs, Oliver’s attention seems solely fixed on you. It’s as if he’s not present in the moment, lost in his own thoughts. The picturesque surroundings lose their charm as the atmosphere becomes charged with an unspoken tension.

“Is he looking,” You say lowly to Venetia, who discreetly looks behind you before humming. “Fucks sake,” You groan, turning your head only to find his eyes looking at his hands. Rolling your eyes, you gravitate your gaze to Felix right beside you.

Felix, sensing the unease, stands up to move his chair closer to yours, a protective gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when he places his large hand on your thigh. You appreciate his presence, but the situation with Oliver casts a shadow over what should have been a carefree day by the lake.

The discomfort peaks when you decide to take a break and lie down on the blanket, soaking up the sun’s warmth. Venetia joins you, and you both close your eyes, attempting to find solace in the peaceful surroundings.

However, Oliver’s peculiar behavior doesn’t wane. As you lie there, eyes closed, you sense his eyes on you, a prickling awareness that mars the tranquility of the moment. You open your eyes to find Oliver glancing at you again, a furtive gaze that makes you uneasy.

Venetia, too, notices the strange dynamic and shoots you a concerned look. You spot Farleigh and Felix in deep conversation, Farleigh glancing at Oliver from time to time before giving you a look, silently communicating the shared discomfort.

“Fuck this, I’m going to take a bath,” You mutter annoyed as everyone watches you get up from your towel. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you walk over to Felix. “I’m going to take a bath,” You lean down to kiss him as he hums.

“I’ll come join you in a sec,” He says, his hands toying with the strings on your bikini bottoms. With a brief exchange of nods, you make your way back to Saltburn and to Felix’s bathroom, which connected to Oliver’s room.

The cold water is already calling your name, promising respite from the tension that clings to the air. Closing the door behind you, you take a deep breath, hoping the solitude of the bath will provide the sanctuary you need.

Little do you know that the shadows of unease follow you into the bathroom. As you start to run the water, the events of the morning replay in your mind. The odd glances, the tension at breakfast—all of it weaves into a disconcerting tapestry.

Stripping off your bikini-clad body, you let out a moan of relief when your warm body makes contact with the cold water. Lighting up a cigarette, another sigh of relief escapes you.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix decides to retrieve something from Oliver’s room. As he opens the door, the scene before him freezes him in his tracks. Oliver, standing too close, is peering through the crack of the bathroom door, watching you in the bath.

Felix’s initial surprise gives way to a flash of anger. “What the fuck, Ollie?” he exclaims, his voice cutting through the silence. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the commotion outside. You hear Felix yelling as you quickly get out the tub, wrapping a robe around your naked body before emerging from the bathroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams as Oliver stammers, caught red-handed, unable to form a coherent response. You move beside Felix, rubbing your hand up and down his arm, trying to ease him down.

“You can’t just invade someone’s privacy like that,” Felix continues, his tone sharp. “What were you thinking, watching through the door like some creep?” His eyes were blown out, his face red as Oliver just stood there distressed.

“That’s so fucked up, Oliver.” You say quietly, though your tone and glare were ice cold. Oliver, looking sheepish and guilty, attempts to explain himself. “I-I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

Felix’s frustration deepens, and he points out, “Sorry is going to cut it, mate. What’s been going on with you? The staring, the weird glances—it’s not normal, man. We’re supposed to be friends. She’s my girlfriend, and you’ve been creeping her the fuck out!”

The room is charged with tension as the two friends face off. Felix, normally calm and collected, is visibly shaken by the breach of trust. You stand there, wrapped in a towel, feeling a mixture of concern and disgust for Oliver and an urge to comfort Felix.

Oliver, fumbling for words, finally admits, “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I messed up, and I completely understand if you’re mad.” Felix lets out a dark laugh, throwing his head back as Oliver gulps.

“Mate, we’re more than just mad. What you did is so fucking wrong,” Felix spat as Oliver says nothing but nods his head lightly. "I think it’s best if you leave, Ollie," you tighten the robe around your body as Felix lets out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair as Ollie nods, his gaze on the ground.

“Of course. I’m sorry again,” he apologizes as you give him one final look, grabbing Felix’s arm and pulling him with you back into the bathroom. Felix looks over his shoulder at Oliver, slamming the door shut and locking it.

Sibling Reader imagines

Fem!Reader

• Sickeness upon you

• Sickness upon you (A/e sad ending)

• Sickness upon you (A/ae heartbreaking ending)

• Bee stings

• Brotherly duty

• Stained blood

• Boxing grows charachter

• Home comes when you call 

• Haunted houses

• Follow me down 

• Burst like a glass balloon

• On thin ice

• Shattered dreams

Male!Reader

• When darkness comes

• Persevering love

• Mallet of honey

• What family is for

• Flowers & paper boats

• Concealed love (male!Lover)

• To be heard

• Humming bees

• Hungover

• My deepest regret

• The hunt

• The burden you carry

---------------------

Reader x Bridgerton list

Episode 18 + Megumi Fushiguro being pretty

I knew it! A Hashira... So a Hashira did come, after all! That’s great! That will certainly please my master!

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL 3

The name's Rocket. Rocket Raccoon.

“Because you’ve got me feeling some type of way and I really, really hate it and I wish that feeling would just leave me alone.” with Laurent maybe?

This turned both kinda angsty and very sappy. I hope you can forgive me, anon. I didn't make this horny even if it's Laurent 😔 (because we all know that that man is a slut)

The Fool

Send me a prompt from this list + a character and I'll write a short reader drabble

tags: love confession | fuck buddies to lovers (kinda) | a little angst | gn!reader

ships: Laurent LeClaire/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

“Because you’ve got me feeling some type of way and I really, really hate it and I wish that feeling would just leave me alone.”

The two of you had met regularly even outside these painting sessions. Until you didn't anymore. Heated kisses stolen in dark corners were replaced by the cold bite of loneliness. You don't know why Laurent has been avoiding you, maybe he had found someone new that fueled his passion. You'd be lying if you said that wouldn't hurt you at least a little bit but you knew where you stood. When you started this passionate affair with the artist you knew what kind of man he was; you were under no illusion that this could ever be more than a conduit for your and his desire and lust. Laurent LeClaire was the type of man to fall in lust, not in love.

To put your mind at ease you decided to simply ask him the next time you model for the painting he is currently working on.

As you lounge on the settee, bare as the day you were born, you take a moment until the question finally falls from your lips.

"Tell me, why have you been avoiding me?"

You see him still behind the canvas, the hand holding his paintbrush hovering uselessly in the air.

You wait a few beats before you continue: "Do you deny it? If you have found another just say so, Laurent."

The only answer you get from him is a sigh. It vexes you that you can’t see his face, that you have no way to at least decipher his expression to find an answer to your question. After a long pause he finally speaks.

“There is no other. Only you.”

You roll your eyes and with a groan you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Trying to get an explanation out of the man felt like pulling teeth.

“Why avoid me then, Laurent? Just tell me and don’t leave me in the dark like this.”

You were starting to feel irritated, having to beg for what you are sure is a rejection biting at your heart. The sound of his palette and brush hitting the wooden table beside him makes you look up. You still can’t see him. It feels intentional now, him hiding behind his work. The coward.

“Because you’ve got me feeling some type of way and I really, really hate it and I wish that feeling would just leave me alone.”

He sounds pained, his voice like a freshly sharpened knife plunging into your heart. If you weren’t already sitting down, the weight of his words would drag you to your knees.

As Laurent finally reveals himself behind the aisle, his lips pulled into a pout you would normally find rather charming, you can do nothing but stare at him. You still can’t believe what he is telling you. Maybe you are misinterpreting things or maybe Laurent has fallen ill or is speaking in tongues. Anything would make more sense than this. It simply cannot be the truth.

“Have you fallen ill? You must have a fever-” Laurent laughs almost manically, not leaving you any chance to continue your sentence. “I am! I am sick, you beautiful, terrible creature.” He looks at you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Lovesick is what I am. And believe me I would rather it be a simple fever than this.” He walks over to the settee with a hand over his heart, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He looks like a tragic figure from a play and you wish for nothing but to hold him, to tell him that you return his feelings and that all will be well.

You can feel your hands tremble with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside your heart. Eyes filled with unshed tears, you look at him. “If it is your wish then I will refrain from seeking your company in the future.” you mumble, your voice and heart cracking with every word.

He falls to his knees in front of you. “I am a fool, my darling. I have been a fool trying to starve my feelings by avoiding you.”, he kisses your bare legs from your ankles to your thighs, “Give me one last chance and let me be your fool.”

You feel dizzy, overwhelmed by emotion, tears rolling down your cheeks while Laurent’s gentle caress makes your heart beat faster. Slowly you reach down and cup his face, your thumb softly stroking his cheek and you nod.

“Be my fool, Laurent.”

Kimetsu No Yaiba Yuukaku-hen Episode 09 Gifs

Holy shit I hit the 1k mark and didn’t even realise. You guys are all bonkers I started this to just keep track of my prompts! Thank you very much!!! To celebrate, have a short story about how writers are awesome and different ways of seeing the world that none of you will probably read, but I hope those who do will enjoy it :)

How Beautiful the World Is

Andy had always admired writers. They were the only people who could manage to make the world sound so beautiful, he thought. The way that even beautiful things could be made more beautiful; the way every sunset blossomed on the clouds the way that sweet, wild clover blossoms in a meadow, hues from burnt orange flame to heather told in soft rolling verse, the way every field was a luscious bounty of daisies and sun-strengthened grass, and every sky was rolling blue like the foam and ice of breaking waves on the winter coast. They had a habit of making each detail wonderfully beautiful, filled with unparalleled splendour.

However, in all actuality, the world was rather dull. Grass was a limp, pitiful green, sunsets were often mild, mostly unnoticed, not worth being looked upon, the sky was grey, clouds floated gloomily like lost, empty ghosts, the night sky was just a dull, navy sort of blue.

Perhaps it was the cold sadness that hung over him that dampened the world into a flattened grey emptiness, an expanse of tarmac and concrete, weather stained and foot-beaten, lacking in any and all beauty, but perhaps books were just optimistic ways of helping children get through the day.

He could still accept that there were certain beauties to the world, there was no denying that, but often the bad outweighed the good. He remembered someone telling him once that everything was made from a pile of good things, and a pile of bad things, and the good didn’t always make the bad better, but the bad didn’t necessarily sour the good, but he thought that even that was being optimistic.

And then he met Jet.

Johnathan Charles Morrow. When he first heard of him, a transfer student who was arriving in a few days, Andy laughed at the name. They speculated as to who the kid was, weaving tall tales about some rich man’s son who had been pulled from some posh private school after his father had lost all of his money to a gambling addiction, or something else that the particularly high-end community would frown upon, who would turn up with an attitude that turned the world around him foul, and who's accent would be so incredulously opulent that it would be an immense source of entertainment for the rest of the time he was in their lives. How unbelievably wrong they were.

When he first arrived, there was one main surprise to him; Jet had had cancerous growths on both of his optical nerves, not that Andy had known that specifically at the time, and had been forced to have both eyes removed at a very young age. He was completely and utterly blind.

The kid had a wolfish grin that he wore on his face almost every second of the day, and accompanying it was a face that smiled with it, all the way from his chin to his hairline. The smile lines of his face stretched from the corners of his sightless eyes like the magnetic poles of the world he couldn’t see, casting shadows across the smooth golden skin of his cheeks. It was infectious. The joy that cascaded across his face leaked onto everyone and everything around him. It was impossible not to be drawn to him.

Andy first spoke to him on the second day he attended school. It was raining, the grey clouds hung like melancholy sorrows, and it was cold enough that his breath danced across the morning air, spinning like a dancer caught in a moment of time, but the air seemed to warm around Jet, around his resplendent smile.

They began to chat, talking about anything and everything, contrasting opinions giving way to arguments that usually would've angered Andy to the point of storming off, but instead it instilled an almost healthy sense of competition in him, and before he realised, Jet had become one of the best friends that Andy had. And then Jet was the best friend that Andy had.

Then one day, one boring, mundane, Thursday evening, as they were making their way down yet another generic suburban road, on their way back to Jet’s house, and Jet told him he thought the world was beautiful.

Andy was so taken aback that he stopped still where he stood, dead on his feet, and it took a few steps for Jet to realise he’d stopped walking. A crumpled look crossed his features like broken waves crashing over rocks. “How? How on earth can you say that? You can’t even see!”

There was the smile again, intoxicating as ever. “Sight is not what makes the world beautiful.”

“I beg to differ. What else is there beyond sight? Corruption? Pollution? People?”

Jet paused, a quizzical look polluting and distorting his smile, Andy felt a twinge of regret coil its way up his throat, which he swallowed back down again, but feeling a little bad for what he’d said.

“When the sun is shining, I feel the heat on my skin, the soft warmth that makes my skin tingle like I am being enveloped in kindness and love. That is beautiful. When I dip my fingers into crisp water, and I feel the brisk, omnipresent coolness, the relaxation of bracing water on your forehead that balances the sometimes stickiness of excessive heat, that is beautiful. I hear the birds chirping in the morning, whistling their own personal symphonies, singing at the top of their lungs, I am safe, I am awake, I am alive. I think that too, is beautiful. When I walk home from school with you and I hear mothers picking up their children from primary school, their children babbling about whatever it is that children find important at that age. That is beautiful.” He paused, putting a hand on Andy’s shoulder, shuffling his stick awkwardly under his other arm and smiling softly. “When I hear the cheerful voices of my friends in the morning, or their laughs, it reminds me that I am not, nor will I ever be, alone with any sadness that I have, and that, above all else is beautiful.”

“But you're never sad, you smile like every day is a celebration!”

Another conflict of emotion flickered across his face. “Just because you can't see something doesn’t mean it's not there. When you go to the seaside, you can't tell what lies in the depths by standing in the shallows.”

“But you're my best friend! You – I,” A strangled sound ripped itself from his lips and he stepped out of Jet’s grasp, letting his arms fall limply in the space between them. “I should know if you're unhappy, Jet.”

“Andy - I didn’t mean anything of it.”

“So, that smile, it's not really a smile?” He folded his arms across himself and rubbed a hand under his chin. “It's a mask? You – you're hiding behind it?”

“Not in the way you’re implying.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jet didn’t add anything to his previous comment, only turned his head away, sucking his teeth. He mumbled something under his breath that Andy didn’t catch and sighed. There was something bubbling beneath his usually calm composure, not quite irritation, but leaning in that direction, it was quite strange, Andy thought, to see such different mannerisms in his friend, and it made him almost uncomfortable.

Jet began to walk away. Andy had always admired that even though the boy lacked vision, he always went in the right direction, never into traffic, or off a pavement, he was surprisingly like a Canada goose in that respect, had an internal compass that was completely reliable, even more so that sight itself sometimes.

Andy rubbed his thumbs against his fists, but before he had a chance to retaliate in any way, Jet turned back around.

“You are stupid sometimes, you know that?”

“Hey-”

“Happiness only comes when you accept that there are some things that you can't change, I learned that a long time ago,” he gestured to his blackened glasses, “and one example of this is that you can never live in a state of complete happiness. There is no such thing as utopia, as heaven on earth, because there is always going to be something with the potential to ruin your mood, your day, or if you're really unlucky, your life.” Andy watched as he carefully removed his glasses, folded the arms and tucked them into his breast pocket. For the first time, he could see Jets prosthetic eyes, they were a rich hazel, like sun shining through a glass of whiskey, staring emptily at the ground in front of them.

“It all depends on whether you let the things ruin you. I have spent my life trying, desperately, to make sure that the things don’t ruin me, so I smile, and I look specifically for the good things about the world. Whereas you, you look for the sadness, and the grief, and the misery, that covers the world like a depressant, forcing everyone into a constant state of frustration that does nothing but make their life a misery, and then you wonder why you can't see the good in the world.”

“So yes, I think the world is beyond beautiful, and I understand that it is also an awful, awful place, but I choose not to dwell on that, because accepting your fate never gets anyone anywhere. You can't change the problems in the world if you’ve already given up. Life can be beautiful if you let it.”

Andy thought about this for a moment, dumbstruck by the fact that a sightless boy saw more beauty than him.

“And even then, not all beautiful things must be seen. Some beautiful things are the small nothingness that you hold close to your heart and make life worth living.”

Andy nodded, awe filtering through him like adrenaline, filling him up. “You’re right.”

Jet sniggered, that signature Cheshire grin splitting his face ear to ear, “I know.”

And maybe, just maybe, the sunset was just a little brighter that evening