being the sister of John B wasnt easy, everyone thought y/n would be the same you know the usual : kind, sweet, .. the truth was she wasnt at all, she and john b were totally 2 diffrent people... she was all fight he was all words. She was reckless he was careful, ...

The morning had the usual haze over the Outer Banks, a thin veil of humidity clinging to every surface, the salty breeze rolling in from the sound. Y/N stirred awake to the sounds of the Pogues moving around the beach house—their little headquarters, the Chateau, perched on stilts overlooking the water.

“Y/N! You’re gonna miss breakfast if you don’t get your ass up!” John B’s voice boomed from the kitchen, half teasing, half serious.

“I’m up, I’m up,” she called back, pulling the blanket off her shoulders. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, glancing out the window. The sun hit the water just right, making it sparkle like molten glass. She loved mornings here, calm before the chaos inevitably came.

Sliding on her sneakers, she joined the kitchen where JJ and Pope were already joking about something involving a cooler, a football, and a reckless plan involving the sound.

“You hear about the bonfire tonight?” Pope asked, eyes lighting up. “Kooks and Pogues, finally a night where we’re not fighting over territory… probably.”

“Probably,” Y/N echoed, though she didn’t sound convinced. Bonfires were dangerous. Always. Someone got drunk, someone brought a gun, fights started. It was tradition, sure—but a risky one.

John B’s warning came without being spoken. She could feel it in his stare when he slid in beside her. “Y/N…” His voice lowered. “Be careful tonight, alright? You know Rafe will be there.”

She nodded, trying not to roll her eyes. “I know, John B. I’m not a child.”

“You’re my little sister. Dangerous doesn’t care about that.” He shoved her lightly, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. There was seriousness there, the kind that carried a weight she’d learned to respect.

The day crawled forward. Y/N found herself distracted, moving between the Pogues as they prepped the boat, cleaned gear, and debated who was bringing beer. She slipped on her favorite jacket, the one that had a frayed sleeve from a fight with a kook last summer. Comforting, like a protective second skin.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” Sarah’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She was leaning against the counter, smirking, a knowing glint in her eye.

“I am,” Y/N said, though she knew she wasn’t.

“Good, because tonight’s gonna be… interesting,” Sarah said. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, voice casual but with an undercurrent Y/N didn’t like. Her brother, Rafe, would be there. And she knew that meant trouble.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She had seen Rafe before, back when he had visited his sister, and the memory wasn’t one she wanted to relive. He exuded danger—the kind of danger you could smell in the air before you even saw him. People whispered about him like he was untouchable, and honestly, some of those whispers were terrifyingly accurate.