Outer Banks Imagines

Super Rich Kids || angst & fluff

Summary: Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends, super rich kids with nothing but fake friends.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, violence against inanimate objects, drugs, unedited work

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You sat on Topper's roof, right outside his bedroom window. The view of the ocean in front of you. It was beautiful, you heard light footsteps behind you, Top was climbing through the tall window with two bowls of cereal in his hands. At least you thought it was oatmeal. He held it out to you, it was a green sludge with strawberries placed in a fanning shape.

"What's this?" you questioned, a look of disgust on your face. You took it from him smelling, it had an odd vegetable smell. He sat beside you, close, nudging you with a chuckle.

"It's matcha oatmeal, just try it, the chef made it," you shrugged giving it a try, you didn't much care for the flavor. You would've preferred something more generic, like plain oatmeal, or Lucky Charms.

You weren't from Figure 8, nor The Cut, you lived somewhere in the middle. Probably what normal suburban life looked like on the mainland. You partook in most Figure 8 things, like the academy, the jobs, and the parties, especially the parties.

"I was thinking today we could go for a ride up the shore, and maybe a picnic," Topper said, he set the bowl beside him and leaned back on his elbows. You nodded, pushing around the slop, finding any bits of mixed in fruit you could.

He smiled at you, his eyes watching as you continued to push about the food. Your head staring down at it intent to find anything but green.

"There's bananas downstairs," you handed him your bowl and he ate the rest of yours. You stood stretching, the sun was up and shining bright. You climbed through the window and continued downstairs.

"Are your parents gone again?" You question Topper, sitting down on a barstool and eating the banana.

"Mhm," he hummed a yes while placing the bowls next to the sink, not bothering to rinse them, or even put them in the dishwasher. Of course, the maid would be coming so what was the point?

You both slowly got ready, dressing in comfy clothes, packing a lunch for later, and finally making it to the mudroom.

"Joy ride?" He smiled at you with his daddy's keys in his hand, a new Jaguar that his father had just bought. You widen your eyes walking out the door. It was stark white, and as Topper pressed a button on the key the top folded up and over, exposing the interior.

"Top, are you sure?" You asked hesitating as he opened your door for you.

"It'll be fine y/n," he reached out his hand, you took it and got into the car. The leather feeling cold on your bare thighs. Topper put the blanket and bag of food in the trunk before getting in.

He got in and started the engine, pressed the garage door button, and backed out. It was still a little chilly, it was still early in the morning. He gassed it down the street, a neighbor stopping to watch as we passed by.

He drove through The Cut quickly, leaving no room for error, and once you neared the bend that reached the coast. The wind was whipping through your hair, and Topper's hand was placed delicately on yours.

The ferry ride was boring, the looks you got from Tourons as you drove the fancy car onto it. You stayed in the car, not caring to see the view from the boat. You've seen it about a million times already. You and Topper chatted, the mention of a Kook party. This excited you, you obliged happily.

You drove off the ferry and up the coast of the mainland. It was about noon now. Topper found a nice spot at a secluded park for you to eat. He speaks the blanket over the surprisingly lush grass, placing the bag down. You both sat, a view of a nice flower garden in front of you. It was peaceful and calm.