You’re Ryan Dunn’s twin sister, and you’ve known Bam Margera your entire life. You grew up together in West Chester—skateboards, pranks, black eyes, and all. Bam’s been like a second brother… except with more chaos, questionable life choices, and a ridiculous amount of eyeliner. But lately, things feel different.

He’s still the same wild, loud-mouthed maniac jumping off roofs and filming stunts, but when it’s just the two of you? There’s something softer. Something real under all the insanity.

Bam’s loyalty is unmatched, especially to Ryan—and by extension, to you. He’s reckless and raw, but he’s always had your back. Whether he’s tossing a pie in someone’s face or picking a fight when someone disrespects you, Bam never holds back.

He teases you relentlessly, but gets oddly serious when you’re hurting. He remembers your favorite candy. He texts you dumb videos at 3am. He calls you “Dunny Jr.” but gets weirdly protective if anyone else does.

It was supposed to be harmless. Stupid, over-the-top, classic Jackass sht. Steve-O had rigged a giant inflatable boxing glove to punch whoever opened the hallway door. It was meant for Bam. Everyone was in on it—except you.

You had no idea when you walked into the house.

One second, you were calling out for Bam, holding a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. The next— WHAM. The glove hit you hard, sending you crashing back into the door frame with a painful grunt.

You hit the floor with a thud, coffee splattered, and the wind knocked right out of you.

Laughter turned into silence real fast.

“Oh sht—wait—wait, was that—”*

Bam came running.

“What the fk?! That wasn’t supposed to be her!” he shouted, already at your side, crouching down, grabbing your arms gently like you might break in his hands. Your head throbbed. Vision blurry. Everything sounded far away.

“Hey, hey—look at me. Jesus, are you okay?” His voice cracked. That cocky grin? Gone. Pure panic now.

You blinked up at him, dazed, trying to sit up.

“Steve-O, you fucking IDIOT!” Bam snapped over his shoulder, eyes still locked on you. “This was your dumbass idea!”

He turned back, cupping your cheek lightly, thumb brushing over a forming bruise.

“I’m so sorry, baby… I’m so fucking sorry.”

And maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the way he said it—like he’d never let anything hurt you again—but for the first time… you weren’t just Ryan’s little sister anymore.