How Old Are They? (best Friend!felix X Reader)

how old are they? (best friend!felix x reader)

short answer: felix is late 19/20, reader feels late 17/18 (i like the thought of reader having skipped a grade bc one of her main insecurities is constantly wanting to seem older bc being mature is the one thing her dad prasied her for)

elaboration below the cut!!

i saw a picture of Saltburn's script that says felix is supposed to be 20,, ig that could be wrong bc of editing/verification,,

i don't remember his age ever being explicitly stated in the movie though, but i feel like it's implied (through his status/familiarity in an on campus routine) that he's not a first year/a little bit older than oliver, but i do picture felix as 20 (maybe late 19 if i ever want to write a blurb where reader and felix are celebrating his birthday)

also it just feels like a good age for him! just starting to get his foothold in the adult world, enough youthful idealism still in his system to want to make someone as "tragic" as oliver his project when a safer choice would have been someone a little shinier,, and just as he's leaving his teenage years behind, he dies (ironically and arguably bc of the youthfully naive concepts his family life would have encouraged him to keep into adulthood) :(

so now instead of being forever 20 bc of his comfortable life style, he's forever 20 bc he has to be,, in a way oliver got to know the only version of felix he would ever know but i digress

bestfriendreader feels like a 17/18 year old freshman to me (hear me out),, i like reader as a freshman bc it's one more thing that should make reader feel closer to oliver,, but she just doesn't, which adds to their dynamic that i haven't shared much of but i will!!

also,, i see bestfriend!reader as someone that's spent their entire life hanging out with people a little older, constantly striving to seem more mature/be a grown up bc her mom's a free spirit and her dad only praises her when she handles his disappointments "like an adult"

also something about bestfriend!reader being on campus for like two weeks, hearing every story on earth about felix and his friends that he's more of an enigma than person (campus celebrity vibes) that she doubts is that impressive until he sits down next to her in class and starts talking is cute idk,, like reader not even realizing how big a deal felix's interest in her is until one of her friend's is like dude.

it's the kind of luckiness that oliver originally hates her for,, reader walked onto campus,, new to oxford,, new to the country, and still manages to snag felix's attention without even trying

idk if the age gap is weird tho😭 (i'm 20 rn and would never date a 17/18 year old but my best friend is 18, started college at 17 bc she was ahead a year and when she was that age she dated 19/20 year olds that went to school with her and that didn't feel weird bc they have enough in common bc of their setting) sooo i'm open to reader having an early enough birthday that she's 18 by the time her and felix get close,, i like the idea of writing a birthday fic anyway lol

could maybe possibly do a blurb of farleigh being protective of bestfriend!reader like maybe someone was talking shit about her and before felix can even defend her farleighs beating him to it? idk if that makes sense but i love love LOVE your fics you’re SO GOOD at writing felix

this is the kind of thing farleigh would do by accident while drunk and then the reality of the situation would hit him so hard he'd decide to be sober for at least a week 😭

sidenote this was sooo fun to write omg

"Okay so it's--" Lacy (or Lizzie, or maybe even Lyla, Farleigh lost the girl's name at some point between between round 3 and 5) giggles as she squints at the tab. "It's--if we want to do an even split..."

She had been so happy to race to the bar when Felix first brought up leaving and continuing the night elsewhere. As if being the one to physically pick up the tab and hand over cash and cards to the clearly irritated bartender would cement her place, would make her a part of the night's inner workings.

The desperation had been so apparent that when Farleigh nudged your arm, you immediately whispered a sharp, "Stop it." You only react that strongly when you're already fighting for your life to keep your halo shiny.

"Hey." You extend the single syllable, voice hinting at a tipsiness that could explain your boldness. You're not exactly shy, but you tend to let the main group do as they please, content to do whatever as long as Felix is by your side. It's nauseating, but reliable.

"Do you mind if..." You trail off, lifting a hand to gesture towards the receipt. Lacy blinks, giving you a look that Farleigh's gotten used to. A subdued, jealous disdain.

Your ignorance would be endearing if this was some made for TV romcom. But it's not, so even though Farleigh knows that you mean your end of night comments that reek of insecurity because the new girls never like you, he'll still poke fun of you for it.

You let go of Felix's arm, walking forward until you're close enough to Lacy to read over her shoulder. You glance at the receipt, and then at the group. In less than a minute, you're announcing, "47 each."

Farleigh has been around you long enough to no longer be surprised. Tipsy division loses its shock value after awhile, and if Farleigh knows you well enough to no longer think twice about it, Felix definitely has no reason to be impressed. That doesn't stop Felix from beaming at you, expression truly lovesick. It's sweet enough to make Farleigh's stomach ache.

"A genius," Felix breathes, extending his arm as far as he can without falling off his stool, "My girl's a genius."

You try to glare, but there's too much softness in the look. "Am not." A response that could technically apply to the 'my girl' part as much as the 'genius' part. There's a hopeful beat in which the girls that aren't used to competing with you for Felix's attention seem to be waiting for a clarification that never comes.

Farleigh's lingering nausea is slightly alleviated by Lacy's pout. She must think that the praise and Felix's undivided attention should be hers. That they would be, if it wasn't for your interference. The thought feels laughable. Felix would have just as easily paid off the entire tab to avoid a frustrating debate. He isn't complimenting the solution, he's complementing you.

Felix pulls your hand towards you, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. "Next round's to you."

What's left of Lacy's mask of indifference crumbles. She glares briefly before remembering her place.

"Next round's somewhere else." You manage the correction through a soft giggle. "You wanted to go, remember?"

Felix blinks twice before nodding. Farleigh has a feeling that Felix's quick concession is more a result of his cousin's faith in you than his own memory. "Yeah, we're going..."

"To Austen's place, I think." Felix tugs on your arm, his attention more focused on squeezing your hand between both of his than actually figuring out what he's moving the group for. "It's closer to campus, he promised you weed."

Felix nods again, this time the motion a little more assured. He pulls on your arm gently. You laugh. "Lex."

"What?" The question is a halfhearted attempt at feigning innocence. Felix's free hand finds your other forearm. "Come here."

"Wait." Despite your protests, you do nothing to escape his grasp. "I have to--I have to go to the bathroom before we leave."

Felix frowns. Farleigh resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Y'want me to go with you? Show you where it is?"

"I'm okay," you mumble, voice sweet and slow as honey, "Stay here, figure out the cash thing. I'll be right back." Carefully, you untangle yourself from Felix's hold. "You have my purse, right?"

Felix lifts the small bag off his lap, a genuine hint of pride coloring his expression. The two of you get more unbearable by the day. "You need it?"

"No, but you can take out my wallet so no one has to wait for me to get back."

Okay, Farleigh actually has to roll his eyes at that. It's a routine that you insist on, trying to pay even though it's clear that Felix would rather you not even attempt to touch a wallet. That's what makes the least sense about you, Felix lets you get away with not giving him what he wants.

"It'll be settled by the time you get back."

Your eyes narrow at his wording. "That doesn't sound like--"

"Lovie, go before we leave you here."

An empty threat. Felix would sooner lose the group than abandon you for a second. You roll your eyes, but seem to accept defeat. "You're impossible."

Farleigh smiles to himself before you can disappear into the crowd, "Kept woman, are we?"

You flip him off without looking back. The joke is typical. The topic would be cruel if you couldn't afford to keep up, but you're from enough money to sustain your own nightlife. You're not from a wealth that equals the Cattons, but the father you're always hesitant to mention works in finance. Farleigh doesn't have the details, but it's clear that you're comfortable enough to not need Felix's charity. Unlike Oliver.

"Was it just me or was that '47' a little...?"

To Lacy's credit, she's smart enough to realize that openly insulting you would only alienate Felix, so instead of embracing the clumsiness of her friend's comment, she brushes a strand of hair off her shoulder. "She's nice," she hums, "A little loud, but nice."

"Loud as in her voice or what she's wearing?"

Vultures picking at bones, too ravenous to consider tact. They'll attack whatever they can think of in an attempt to cope with the fact that you're the one with Felix wrapped around your finger. Farleigh knows that's all it is, and yet it digs at him.

Your outfits, your uncertainty in certain social situations. Those are all fair shots, fair comments for Farleigh to make.

"Clara," Lacy mumbles, an attempt at virtue signaling.

"No," the patience in Felix's voice seems to drain them of their good humor, "Answer the question. Explain what you meant."

Lacy laughs once, the sound awkward and strained. Her uncertainty is oddly gratifying. "Oh, nothing, really." She tilts her head, eyes innocent yet alluring as she stares at Felix. "She's sweet, really Felix, I like her. She's darling." The last sentence is said the same way one would to describe a puppy. "But she--she's not like us." Lacy takes a step forward. "C'mon Felix, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"Lacy means," Farleigh's own voice surprises him, "That she's the kind of girl you actually go home with, and Lacy isn't."

Wow. Okay, technically true because you do go home with Felix, it just--accuracy feels like the least important part of what just came out of his mouth. Farleigh can't tell who's more shocked--Lacy and her gaping friend, Felix, or himself. Did he--did he just defend you of all people?

He blinks. You, the voice of reason that's always willing to point out when gossip crosses the line between catty and cruel, who maintains a 4.0 without trying, who paints their nails bright colors, who scrapbooks. That's who Farleigh stood up for?

This could be the rockbottom alcoholics always talk about.

"Lizzie," her friend begins sharply, "I think our--our friend's waving us over."

With that, Lizzie-not-Lacy and her friend abandon their places by the bar in favor of the anonymity of the center of the bar. Farleigh's too distracted by self disgust to note their expressions.

Felix steps towards him awkwardly, eyes unable to meet his. "That was--uh, good of you, mate."

Farleigh lets Felix's praise have its usual affects for a brief moment, embracing the warmth as Felix throws an arm around his shoulders. Then, reality hits Farleigh all over again. One word about this, and you'll be making him a friendship bracelet. "If you tell her about this, I'm telling her about how you didn't shut up about her all of Christmas break."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

“i want you.”

“you have me.”

GIRL I AM FUCKING SCREAMING YOURE TOO GOOD LITERALLY BESTFRIEND!FELIX GIVES ME LIFE.

OMG THANK YOUUU

when i wrote that i paused and took a moment to just 👀

they get away with so much

i know the general consensus is that oliver is using bestfriend! reader to get to felix but i do wonder if the more he spends time around felix and you that the line between hate and something akin to what he feels for felix blur a little. when did he find your naivety become endearing instead of annoying; when did he find interest in kind of books that you often rattle on about— i think him liking reader is funny but also a good point of conflict for him and felix and just felix himself. kinda forces him to address his totally not platonic affections for reader. (also oliver and reader dynamic in my mind is basically just olivia rodrigo's lacy)

in honor of me now having officially seen lacy live :))

also i have had lacy on my mind for them for such a long time it feels like you've crawled into my brain omg

they also remind me of the song girl crush (i love the harry styles cover of that song omg)

----

"Stalker."

Oliver hadn't meant for the nail of his thumb to start tracing the sharp crease forever dented into the spine of one of your paperbacks, but the strangeness of it had been too tempting.

The Virgin Suicides. The title doesn't seem to suit your taste, and yet there it was, well worn and tucked into the corner of your small shelf lovingly, next to the first few installments of Harry Potter.

"Oh, I--" He should have been more focused, he should have worked harder at listening for you over the music coming from your CD player. "I was just..."

You're staring at him, charcoal colored product smeared beneath both of your eyes now. When he first showed up at your door, about fifteen minutes early, you had only completed your left eye.

The night has a way of changing you, of making you look a little older. The makeup, your low cut top, the length of your skirt. It all works together to blur away any uncertainty in the way you hold yourself. Oliver's seen it--you--like this before, but for whatever reason, it's hitting him harder than usual.

He swallows, fighting the thrown feeling to take in your expression. Your eyes give away little about what you're feeling, but the set of your lips betrays you. There's the slightest lift to the corner of your mouth. You're amused. You're joking.

"Kidding," you grin, "You can relax."

Oliver lets out an exaggerated breath to play up his relief. You're harder to crack than you should be, the most significant piece in the puzzle that is Felix's favor, but there are a few things that Oliver has figured out about you. The first is that your loyalty runs deep, so once he's in with you he's in for life.

The second is that you like being the good guy. It's not the same as Felix's desire to play in the macabre until it, too, bends to his will and morphs into something good, but it's similar enough. You like making people feel at ease, you like having people trust you.

"Do you read?" Your question is genuine. You even lean against your bathroom's doorframe to make it clear that you're listening.

The fact that you felt the need to ask reminds Oliver of how little you actually know about him. Felix is attached to you like he is no other, so Oliver's been around you, but he hasn't managed to make it across the line that divides friendly from friend. You're polite, kind even, but it's clear that something about Oliver hasn't clicked with you. Yet.

Your unfamiliarity should shake him, should make him regret pretending to get the time wrong to buy himself some time alone with you in an attempt to thaw the ice. But if anything, his novelty in your mind grounds him. Any indifference or dislike you feel towards him isn't personal. You just don't know him.

To you, Oliver is a blank canvas that he can paint to reflect exactly what you want in a friend. "A little," he answers, "I've gotten more into it recently, still looking for recommendations."

"You can borrow the one you were looking at, if you want." There's a shy quality to your response that briefly gives him a flash of what Felix might see in you. "It's a little eerie, but beautiful. Definitely one of those books you'll either really love or really hate, no in-between."

Oliver nods. Reading isn't a terrible way to find an in with you. "Sounds interesting." He takes a slight step forward. "Hopefully, I'll love it because after what you said to Lucas in class, I'm scared to not agree with you."

Your eyes briefly dart to the ground, a bashful grin playing at your lips. "Oh my god, don't remind me."

The one good thing about Oliver's too-brutal-for-an-elective literature for creative writing class is the fact that it gives him something to have in common with you.

"You made good points." You shake your head at the compliment, expression still lighthearted enough for Oliver to know that he's still treading on safe ground. "And honestly, needed a break from hearing Lucas's thoughts on the canon for the fifth time in the same hour."

"Thank you." Your tone is full of the satisfaction that comes from vindication. "He's the worst kind of English major."

"The worst," he echoes.

Your smile hints at a camaraderie that Oliver should find satiating. After all, that's what he came here for. A few stolen moments in which Felix wouldn't be able to distract either of you.

Oliver's eyes drift towards the collage decorating the wall your bed is pressed against. A lot of it is made up of scraps, pieces from magazines, post cards and notes from friends, some scrapbooking material to fill awkward spaces. But there are also pictures. Most of them of you and Felix.

A disposable clearly taken by your best friend stands out. You're laughing, Felix is staring at you, the arm that isn't holding the camera around your shoulders. There's an unabashed affection behind Felix's gaze that Oliver can feel in the pit of his stomach. It'd be one thing if the two of you were drunk or inebriated in one way, but the background of the photo is so mundane. The two of you are in a coffee shop, daylight still streaming in from the window next to you.

What is about you?

The question cuts through him from the inside out, the same way it always does. This, his mind reminds him, this is why he doesn't let himself be around you...because he can pretend all he wants, can attempt to convince himself that the visceral feeling that strikes him in the chest whenever you laugh; or pull your lips into a pout; or look at him like he's more than static is as simple as hatred. It won't change anything.

You'll still be goodhearted, enough of you rooted in your own world to let you stay that way. You'll still have that off kilter sense of humor and the way you pinch your eyebrows together when you're pretending to get something everyone else does. You'll still have your cherry lip gloss and perfectly smudged eyeliner. You'll still be the one that Felix eventually realizes he's in love with.

There's no reason to hold this against you. You're blissfully unaware of most of the things that twist Oliver's stomach into careful knots, and the little you're actually aware of, you're kind about.

Oddly enough, that only makes it worse.

The sharp nausea that comes from thinking about you too much isn't something to act on. If Oliver lets himself lean into his bitterness even slightly, all of his careful planning will have been for nothing. Felix would never keep anyone around that hurt you. Even Farleigh's learned to temper his snark, keeping any comments made about you lighthearted enough for you to laugh off.

Besides, there's nothing to gain from hurting you. With those eyes and soft, eager to please smiles, it'd probably feel like kicking a puppy.

"You sounded good, though," he mumbles, "Smart."

You beam at him, the look so warm and real Oliver's once again forced to understand why Felix cares about you so much. "I think I sounded a little crazy, but I like your version better." You scratch the back of your arm, the movement almost nervous. "Thanks."

He forces a smile, letting silence fall over the two of you. If you were as predictable as the others, Oliver would have some kind of direction on what to give you.

"If you want something to drink..." You trail off, head turning to look at the mini fridge tucked into the corner of your dorm. "Felix was going to bring something, because my fridge is basically empty. I think I have some leftover vodka in my closet, but it's the mixed drink bottle from last week, so a single shot could be a lot...and it's pink now, and I think it was more orange last week."

You shift your weight from foot to foot as you ramble. "But I don't remember a lot of last Saturday. Ironically, because of what's in the closet." You let out a self deprecating laugh. "But no judgement if you want to be that drunk. Seriously."

It's the kind of statement that would feel sarcastic from anyone else. Oliver can tell you mean it.

He didn't plan on getting that drunk tonight, but then again, he rarely does. Oliver's gotten into the habit of following Felix's lead, letting him set the tone of the night.

"We could do a shot together." Oliver keeps his voice low, casual in its hesitance.

Taking shots with people you're not the most familiar with seems to be your form of low stakes bonding. More often than not, it seems to be a girl thing, but Oliver's seen enough exceptions to not feel weird about asking. The only time Farleigh openly gets along with you is after the two of you make a game of who can down a round fastest.

"Yeah." You smile, visibly easing. "Sounds fun."

Oliver has a feeling that your relief is more about having something to do with your hands than the promise of alcohol. The only part of you that ever indicates insecurity is your uncertainty. Like you're afraid someone's going to tap you on your shoulder and tell you that something about your last social interaction was objectively wrong.

You turn, walking towards your closet. There's the creek of old hinges and then a slight laugh. "If we get drunk enough before Felix gets here, he's going to have a really stressful night."

You're different when you're drunk, touchier and more susceptible. Oliver swallows. You could be joking. You're usually joking.

"He could use some stress," he mumbles, attempting to reflect your usual brand of humor, "He's had it too good for too long."

You laugh again, the sound fuller this time as you shut the closet door. "Where would he be without us to humble him?"

The thought of him holding the same level of significance in Felix's life as you do clouds Oliver's mind. That is so you, to say something so inviting and disorientating just as he's resolving the way he sees you. "Nowhere good."

You place a small, plastic cup in front of him before setting down your own. The liquid in the bottle is an egregious shade of pink for what once was plain vodka. You were right to point it out. Oliver's stomach starts to turn just looking at it.

"Okay," you start filling his cup first, as innocently as if you were offering him lemonade. "This might kill us."

Oliver doubts anything that bad would ever happen to someone like you. He watches you fill your own cup, the liquid draining from the bottle much faster than it should. "It might with the way you're pouring it."

"What?" You start twisting the lid back onto the bottle. "That's a standard shot."

"Standard to who?" The question is more for the sake of arguing than genuine concern. A lot of your friendship with Felix seems to be made up of pointless bickering.

You glare at him, "I don't know, like standard standard."

You're the kind of person that enjoys reading for fun and sitting by the pond to feed ducks and yet you're willing to drink like that. "Sounds exact."

You pick up your cup, squinting at its contents. "Standard-ish." Clearly. You extend your arm slightly, Oliver takes the hint, picking up his own overfilled cup. He taps the edge of his cup against yours. You return the gesture immediately. "One...two..."

The two of you down your drinks in unison. You both regret your choices immediately. It's more than just the sting of alcohol, it's the nauseating taste of everything that was considered left over at the end of last week's party mixed together.

His eyes meet yours, and there's an immediate, wordless understanding. That was disgusting. Despite your mutual repulsion, the two of you are smiling.

Oliver's reminded of a gesture he's seen you and Felix exchange between rounds. A version of a kiss so quick and casual, it does manage to pass as something close to platonic. At the very least, platonic compared to you on Felix's lap, you in Felix's bed in nothing but his T-shirt...

You smell like Felix. It doesn't matter how much of that start-of-spring perfume you wear, it never fully covers the faint aroma of cigarettes and luxury fabric softener. Oddly enough, the artificial scent seems determined to linger on anything that isn't you, often making Felix smell like you. It's such a common occurrence, sometimes if Oliver's not thinking about it, it's hard to remember what comes from you and what comes from him.

It's easy to wonder if that level of entanglement applies to other things. If you'd feel like Felix. You wear his clothes often enough. Or, if Felix feels like you. He's in the habit of using the lotions and products you leave in his room.

You set down your disposable cup. "That was a lot grosser than I remember it."

"A lot," he echoes, discarding his own cup.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

Regarding Felix's age, on his grave in the movie, his birthday is listed as November 4 1987 and his death date is August 19 2007. So he must have been 19 for a majority of the film since he died a few months before his 20th birthday.

omg unironically love people that can do basic math <3 ty