A/n: (S/n) means sister's name. Besides that small note, I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!!
~✨Celestial✨~
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***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

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Prompt: You and your sister (if you don't have one, make one up) live in a farmhouse down the road from Sherman's Camp. Even after the camp was overrun and crawling with Freakers, you and your sister decide to remain where you are. Roughly every day, Deacon comes and checks in on you both to make sure you're both all right. One day, things don't go according to plan.
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~3rd Person POV~

"Hey!" (S/n) called out to her older sister as she peered through a small slit between the boards obscuring the window. "You-know-who is at the door."

(Y/n) stood up from the couch and wandered over to the front door, removing the various amounts of locks. It was a safety precaution against not the Freakers, but the constant and large threat of Marauders and Rippers—the only beings who actually knew how to use a door handle.

Opening the door, (Y/n) greeted Deacon with a gentle smile. "You're a little early. You don't usually check in on us until noon."

"Something's come up and Cope needs me for some job. I was, uh, just passing by and thought I'd see how you and your sister are doing." Deacon entered the house and glanced around. He admired how the interior was furnished nicely with pictures and paintings hanging on the walls as if they weren't in the middle of the apocalypse. He found it comforting to know the (L/n) sisters were able to give him a slice of normality in such dangerous times.

"So, Deek, when're you and my sis gonna hook up?" (S/n) questioned with a smug grin. She plopped down on the sofa, propping her feet on the armrest.

(Y/n) glared daggers at her younger sister and shoved her feet off the armrest with a growl. "Shut your damn mouth."

"What?" The girl shrugs her shoulders, pushing her body up into a sitting position. "I know it's gonna happen sooner or later..."

The older woman heaved a deep while pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe some of the shit you say..."

"Neither can I," (S/n) chortled. "It just kinda slips out."

"Anyway," (Y/n) turned to Deacon, who seemed slightly unhinged from the younger sister's rambling. "I've a surprise for you."

"What kind of surprise?" The drifter inquired.

"It's not a surprise if I tell you. Come on."

Deacon followed (Y/n) up the stairs and into her bedroom. On the bed laid a bolt-action rifle in great condition. Amazed at seeing such a pristine and well-kept firearm shocked, the drifter wondered where she could've acquired such a treasure. "Where the hell did you get this?"

(Y/n) hesitated for a second, knowing he wasn't going to like her answer. "Well... I found it on a dead Marauder's body while I was searching for supplies in Sherman's camp."

Deacon tore his gaze from the sniper and glared at the woman. "Goddammit, (Y/n), I told you not to go there! Mike said he'd gladly give you whatever you needed."

"I know he did, Deek, but I didn't go there just for supplies," she confesses. "I visited my parents' shop to grab this." Walking over to the dresser, she grabbed a shattered picture frame. The picture inside depicted two parents holding their daughters in their arms with bright smiles.

The drifter knew the importance of family and trying to keep the memories alive, but he still couldn't believe (Y/n) walked straight into a town crawling with Freakers unarmed. "Listen," Deacon sighed. "Don't ever head into Sherman's camp by yourself, alright? You could've asked me or even contacted someone at Lost Lake to help."

"Oh, please," (Y/n) scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I did. Skizzo was the first who responded to my call. He said it wasn't worth it and cut off the feed before I could reach Rikki or Mike."

Deacon's eyes scrunched up in anger. "That fucking weasel can rot in hell. If you need anything, contact me first. I'll tell Mike what Skizzo did."

"Thanks, Deek." (Y/n) smiled as she approached the firearm on the bed. She grabbed the rifle and tossed it to the drifter, who caught it with ease. "Merry Christmas, happy birthday—whichever one comes first. You'll find a better use of it than us."

"Now we're talkin'," Deacon grinned and admired the gun closer.

Suddenly, the radio clipped to his belt fizzled and Mark's static voice filled the room. "Copeland to St. John. Pick up, St. John."

Deacon accepted the transmission with a small groan. "What is it, Cope?"

"That job I need you to do can't wait any longer. Be here within the hour."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way. I'll be there soon," the drifter huffed. "Deacon out."

(Y/n) placed a hand on her hip. "Well, I guess you better be leaving. Sounds like Mark desperately needs your help."

"Cope can go fuck himself with a cactus," he mocks. "All I care about is the credits and making the roads safer."

"Don't let me stop you. I know you'll be back tomorrow. Y'know," the (e/c)-eyed woman remarks. "Ever since Mike asked you to check on us, you haven't missed one day in the past year."

A rare and charming smile appeared on Deacon's face. "I did make you a promise and I don't plan on breaking it anytime soon."

(Y/n) placed a hand on his arm. "Just don't push yourself. You never take the easy jobs. Wouldn't want to find you passed out on my doorstep one of these days."

The two walk down the stairs and to the front door. (Y/n) opened the door, glancing around to see if there were any Freakers nearby. "Looks like the coast is clear."

"I better hightail it out of here. Wouldn't want another complaint from Cope." Deacon kept his eyes on the older sister as he stepped out the door. "Tomorrow at noon, I'll be here."

The eldest (L/n) nodded with a brilliant smile. "I'm looking forward to it. It's a shame your visit was cut short today."

Her flirtatious comment caused Deacon to lose focus for a second, but he cleared his throat before responding. "I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." He peered past her and eyed (S/n). "You, too, squirt."

The younger sister flew off the couch with pursed lips. "What did you just call me?"

"Nothing," Deacon snickered.

"Stay safe out there, okay?" (Y/n) leaned her head against the door.

"Yeah. Will do." Deacon left and the (h/c)-haired woman watched as he mounted his bike and took off.

She closed the door, locking all the locks before facing her sister with a scowl. "You have no filter, do you?"

(S/n) grinned grinned from ear to ear. "Nope."

<—————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<<

When the sun rose the next morning, (Y/n) woke up and meandered down to the kitchen. She grabbed one of the jugs of water and poured it into a cup. As she sipped the room-temperature beverage, the sound of a motorcycle approaching caught her attention. She walked out of the kitchen and peered out the small opening in the boarded up window beside the front door.

It was seven in the morning and she knew Deacon would never arrive this early. When the low humming of the motorcycle crescendoed, she realized it was more than one. "Oh, shit."

A group of drifters rode up to the house and parked at the end of the dirt driveway. (Y/n) dropped her water, the glass shattering by her feet. "Oh, no." She shuffled around for the radio Iron Mike had given her, but she couldn't find it. When she remembered (S/n) was the last to have it, she cursed under her breath.

The moment (Y/n) went to dabs upstairs to her sister, one of the drifters pounded their fist against the front door. She froze, swallowing nervously as she listened to the man's deep, gruff voice. "We know you're in there, girly. We also know that damned drifter visits you every day. You can either come out now or we're breaking down this fucking door!"

The woman knew it wasn't a good idea to let them in, but she was given no choice when the drifter began ramming his body against the door. She scrambled up the stairs and woke (S/n) up. The younger sibling woke up with a sharp inhale. "What the hell?! It's not like we've got some place to be!"

"Shh!" (Y/n) hissed. "There's drifters trying to break in the house. You need to hide in the closet and don't come out no matter what you hear, understood?"

"Y-Yeah," (S/n)'s voice shook with terror. She moved from the bed to the closet and closed the door.

The sound of wood splitting caught (Y/n)'s attention.  She knew the drifters had managed to break into the house and could hear their footsteps downstairs. Peering through the slits in the closet door, she whispered to (S/n). "Where'd you put the radio?"

"I-Inside the nightstand," she responded in a low, frightened voice.

(Y/n) found the radio and held it behind her back as she heard someone walking up the stairwell. A scruffy looking man walked in and smirked when he found her. His sunken eyes traveled up and down her body, his grin widening. "Well, well, well. Look what we've got here. That fucking drifter sure does have quite a taste in women."

"Go to Hell, you asshole," (Y/n) snarled, clutching the radio tightly.

"Oh," he chuckled. "You've got some fight in ya, too."

"You know what you're gonna have in you?" She retorts.

"And what's that, sweetheart?"

"My foot."

"Ooh, kinky."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in vexation at the man's response.

"Hey, Micah! Grab her and get your ass back down here!" A woman yelled from the living room.

"Fine," Micah hissed in response.

He went to grab (Y/n), but she stepped back. She glared sharply at him, quickly hooking the radio to her belt and hiding under her shirt. "I can walk. I've got two legs that work perfectly fine."

"Then get your ass movin' before I put a bullet in it." Micah aimed his handgun at the woman as she walked past him and down the stairs.

In total, there were five drifters—two women and three men. They were well-equipped and didn't hesitate to flash their weapons in (Y/n)'s direction. The woman who shouted at Micah earlier shoved her onto the couch, aiming her assault rifle at her head. "That fuckin' drifter must be pretty stupid to leave you all alone."

"How'd you know he stopped here every day?" (Y/n) questioned the leader of the group.

The drifter grinned in amusement. "We've been watching this house for a couple of weeks. When we saw the bastard visited you every day, we came up with a plan. That son of a bitch killed a few of our buddies and we plan on repaying the favor."

"If you know his routine, you should know—"

"St. John to (L/n). You there, (Y/n)?"

"Fuck..." She cursed under her breath when she heard Deacon's transmission. The drifter standing next to the woman yanked on (Y/n)'s arm and forced her back onto her feet.

He lifted her shirt, revealing the radio. "Carla, we could use this to our advantage."

The woman, Carla, stared at the device. Her eyes flickered in excitement. "Seems luck is on our side today. We won't have to sit on our asses for another four hours for him to arrive." Her brown eyes bore into (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes mischievously. She pressed the muzzle of her gun into the side of the woman's head. "Better pick up before he gets suspicious, or you'll be the one to pay for the men he killed."

With shaky hands, (Y/n) unclipped the radio and contacted Deacon and desperately tried to keep her voice from betraying her. "Hey, Deek. Whatcha need?"

"I'm heading over from Lost Lake Camp. I know it's pretty fuckin' early, but... uh, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Um," (Y/n) stared at Carla, who pressed the gun harder into the side of her temple. "Yeah. Now's fine. I'll be waiting."

"I'll see you soon."

The call ended and the man beside Carla snatched the device from (Y/n), throwing it across the room and shattering it. She flinched at the loud racket as Carla gestures to her fellow drifters. "Hide the bikes."

"What about the front door?" Another man asked.

Carla rolled her eyes with a huff. "Jesus, I don't know, Adam. I'm not the one who broke the hinges." She glanced at (Y/n) for a split second. "You got something to reattach the door?"

"Wha—no! I didn't expect a bunch of assholes to come barging in my house! You think I have spare hinges laying around the damn house?" (Y/n) snarled.

The leader turned her attention back to Adam. "Guess you'll be supporting it. We just need the drifter to enter the house and shoot his ass. Shouldn't be that difficult. Just trying not to fuck it up."

"Whatever, Carla," Adam groaned while Micah and the two other nameless drifters headed outside to hide their motorcycles.

(Y/n) waited in silence as she watched Adam attempt to lift the door and place it in the doorframe. She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her lips, which the man overheard. He snapped his head around, glowering at her. "Shut the hell up."

"It's funny from where we're standing," Carla scoffed. "You're just a scrawny-ass kid. How the hell did you make it out alive while the others all died, huh?"

"Fuck off, Carla," Adam barked with narrowed eyes. He managed to set the door back into the doorframe, but the broken hinges were clearly visible.

Carla realized how obvious it was and leered at (Y/n). "You better make sure he doesn't see that."

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?" (Y/n) crossed her arms, brows furrowed.

"By making sure he gets his ass in this house as quick as possible. Adam will be behind the door to make sure it all goes smoothly. If you try anything funny, he'll shoot ya in the head. Got it?" Carla didn't wait for the woman's response and gathered her subordinates in the kitchen.

(Y/n) heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching, which was a signal to the other drifters. They scattered around the house, hiding out of sight. Adam stood behind the door, readying his pistol as they heard Deacon pull into the driveway.

She stood in front of the door and waited for him to knock. A minute passes and the knock finally comes. She waited a few seconds before answering the door, watching from the corner of her eye as Adam raises his firearm and trained it at her head.

Slowly, (Y/n) opens the door and tries her best to smile. "Hey, Deek. You're really early today."

"Yeah, well, something's come up and I need—" Deacon suddenly fell silent as his shoulders tensed. He realized his silence and spoke up. "Can I come in?"

"Um, yeah." (Y/n) opened the door more to allow Deacon inside. He placed his hand on the door and waited for her to take a step back before he pushed the door with all his strength. Adam wailed in pain as the door slammed directly into his face, knocking him to the floor and causing him to drop his pistol.

Deacon stormed into the house just as the first bullet was fired. He tackled (Y/n) behind the couch just as the gunfire multiplied. Then, he realized his hold on her and grabbed his handgun. Remaining crouched beside her, he met her frightened gaze. "Where's (S/n)?"

"She's hiding in the closet in her room. They think I'm the only one here," she replies.

"Good." Deacon emerged from their cover and killed the two unnamed drifters. He lowered his head when Carla, Adam, and Micah unloaded round after round in their direction. Once the drifters has to reload, he shot at the men and women as they dive into the kitchen. He managed to shoot Adam in the leg, forcing Carla and Micah to drag him with them.

"Stay here and don't move," Deacon demanded before moving from the couch to the kitchen. He took cover by the doorframe. Inside the kitchen, he could hear them shouting at one another.

"What a great plan, Carla. Zeke and Kat are dead because you couldn't fuckin' abandon your revenge scheme!" Micah bellowed angrily.

"My scheme?! You're the one who told me about this damn house!" Carla barked.

"I told you to leave it the hell alone!"

Deacon rolled his eyes at their bickering and decided to silence them. He stood in the doorframe, shooting all three drifters. They screamed from the gunfire, but they were silenced when Deacon administered a few headshots. "Bunch of fucking morons..."

"I've never heard a full-blown argument in the middle of an ambush," (Y/n) laughed as she stood up. Her smile fell when she saw the entire house was riddled with bullet holes. "Guess we'll be movin' again."

"(Y/n)," Deacon called out. "Go to Lost Lake Camp. Mike said he's already got a cabin ready for you and (S/n)."

The woman exhaled. "It's our best and only option. This house is no longer safe."

"It's not because of that," Deacon commented.

"Then what is it, Deek?"

"Listen," the dirfter's voice dropped an octave. "I piss off a lot of shitbags out there and that's not ending anytime soon. If they find out you're connected to me, you'll be next on their list."

(Y/n) crossed her arms, tapping a finger against her elbow. "Sounds like you're blaming yourself for this shitstorm."

"That's because it is my fault they attacked."

The woman covered ears like a small child. "Nope. Not listening."

She walked away from Deacon, but she didn't make it far before he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him with a glare. "Just because you don't listen doesn't mean the truth changes."

"I know. I just don't want to hear you admit it regardless if it's the truth." (Y/n) felt the air between them thicken, but she tried to veer their conversation down a smoother road. "Forget about it. They're dead. Now, you told me over the radio that you had something to talk to me about."

Deacon's body visibly tensed up as he remembered their brief conversation over the radio and what he had wanted to talk to her about. "Uh, yeah."

"Well," (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips. "I'm all ears, but I've an inkling of what it is you want to talk to about."

Deacon leaned against the wall behind him with a regaled smirk. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, because I saw how you reacted with what my sister said yesterday. Y'know, the whole "hooking up" thing."

The drifter's smirk was trampled. "How—?"

"I've dated before, Deek. I'm not new to the concept," (Y/n) guffawed. "You're a man who's built walls around his heart to avoid the tolls of emotions caused by others. But it seems I'm the only one who's breeched those walls."

Deacon was amazed at her sharp perception of him. "Gotta admit—you're not wrong to some extent."

(Y/n) grinned as she took a single step towards him, closing the small gap between them. "You become soft around me. That's how I definitely know you like me." One of her hands trailed up to his cheek, placing her slightly frigid fingers against his skin. "Or am I reading too much into this?"

Deacon's only response was a rare smile. "Not one bit."

(Y/n) leaned in for a kiss and the drifter met her halfway. It was a passionate, deep kiss which both have been craving for a long time.

Their blissful moment was ruined when someone came running down the stairs. "You couldn't have told me they were dead before making out?" (S/n) huffed, glaring at the two of them. "I've been hiding in that closet for thirty minutes!"

Embarrassed at being caught by her younger sister, (Y/n) backed away from Deacon. "Sorry, got caught up in the moment."

The scowl on (S/n)'s face was overwritten by a smug grin. "So, are you two finally official?"

The older (L/n) groaned. "Ugh..."