A/n: My phone's acting strange and autocorrecting words to completely different ones that are in no way, shape, or form related. So PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU SEE ANY ERRORS! I hope you all enjoy this somewhat small piece! Love you all!!!
~✨Celestial✨~
•••••••••••••••••••••

*****
Prompt: You've been close friends with Deacon for nearly two years. One day, someone from the Hot Springs Camp brings you in and puts you to work. You immediately learn prisoner would've been a better place to go than here.
*****

~3rd Person POV~

"What is it, Tucker?" Deacon inquired as he rode down the Santiam Highway while taking a transmission from Ada.

"I've got a new job for you. Swing by the Hot Springs and I'll fill you in."

"I'll be there soon. Hey, Tucker?"

"What is it, St. John?"

"Has a girl named (Y/n) been by the encampment recently?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Alright. St. John out."

Deacon has been worried sick about (Y/n) since he found the house she was using as shelter infested with Freaks. He tried contacting her through the radio he gave her, but all he receives in response is static. He's searched Belknap for the past few days hoping to find any sign of her but with no luck.

The drifter checked Copeland's camp in the Cascade region to see if she had decided to seek shelter there, but Mark hadn't seen her since the last job she went on with him a week ago.

"Just hope you're okay," Deacon mumbled as he pulled up to the gate at the Hot Springs.

"Hey, it's Deek. Let him in," the woman on guard yelled to her fellow guardsmen. The man behind the gate opened it, allowing Deacon to ride into the camp.

He rode up the narrow path and pulled his bike to a stop in front of the mechanic. The man behind the table waved when he spotted the drifter. "Hey, Deek. You here for a tune-up?"

"Not today, Zanny." He walked over to the mechanic, wondering if he may have seen (Y/n). "Did anyone bring in a girl with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes recently? Goes by (Y/n)?"

"Uh, not sure. Someone did bring a girl in a couple days ago, but I didn't catch her name before they assigned her to a job."

"Do you know where I could find her?" Deacon questioned with a small sprinkle of irritation in his tone.

"Sorry, Deek. Can't help you there. You could check around camp if you're that worried about your girlfriend."

Deacon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Look, she's not my—"

"Deacon!" Ada shouted as she made her way over.

While cursing the old woman under his breath, he turned around. "What's this job you've got for me, Tuck?"

"A band of Rippers have made a camp located near Patjens Lake. Take care of them before—" Tucker began but was suddenly interrupted by a wail of pain. Her eyes and Deacon's darted in the direction the cry cane from. Ada's eyes narrowed as she muttered under her breath. "What the hell...?"

"Get the fuck up!" A man's voice yelled. Deacon pushed past Tucker and headed in the direction of the yelling. He picked up his pace when the cries of pain returned.

Arriving on the scene, Deacon saw one of the guards beating a woman. "Hey, asshole!" The drifter bellowed.

The man turned around, brows furrowed. "The hell do you want, drifter?"

"You to back the fuck up," Deacon hissed, eyes burning with anger. "Beating down on a defenseless woman. You're more disgusting than the Freaks."

"She was slacking off! I had to do something to get her ass into gear," the guard retorts.

Deacon grabbed the front of the man's shirt, pulling him closer and away from the collapsed woman. "You touch her again, I'll punch you in the goddamn face to see how you like. How's that sound, hmm?"

Frightened, the man swallowed nervously and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Whatever you say, man. Now, c-can you let me go?"

Deacon released the front of his shirt, but he stopped the man before he could sprint away by placing a hand on his shoulder. "You know what? You deserve at least one punch to the face." Without hesitating, the drifter swung his fist and punched him directly in the jaw. The guard screamed out in pain as he fell from the impact. Blood trickled down the side of his mouth as he scooted his body through the dirt to get away from the furious drifter.

Once the man managed to get away, Deacon set his sights on the woman balled up on the ground. Taking a closer look, his eyes widened as he recognized her. "Jesus, (Y/n)." He kneeled beside her, pushing her (h/c) locks out of her face and prying the hand she was using to cover the fresh wound away so he could see how bad the guard had hit her. Seeing the large bruise around her eye and the small cuts on her nose, Deacon frowned. "Damn. He hit you pretty good."

"Talk about one hell of a reunion," (Y/n) faintly giggles.

"You escape a horde only to be beaten by some scrawny-ass kid," he said, tracing the bruise around her eye with his thumb as he cupped her cheek in his palm.

"I can't wait to see the bruise you gave him. I think you might've knocked out one of his teeth, too," she stated with an amused smirk. Her joyful expression faltered, crumbling into a frown. "I'm sorry for not trying to get ahold of you. I tossed the radio aside to distract the horde so I could get away."

"I don't give two shits about the radio. All I care about is that your safe. Well, except for the black eye you just got from that asshole." Deacon helped (Y/n) to her feet and guided her to a bench beside Alkai's stall. He sat her down, examining the cuts on her nose. "They don't look too deep. Better clean them to prevent an infection."

"Since when are you a doctor?" (Y/n) teased as the drifter fished out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a rag from his pocket.

"Last I checked, it's common sense to clean any wound," Deacon retorts as he soaked the rag in the alcohol.

"It is, but you sounded like—ow!" The woman helped as the rag was pressed against the cuts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you need a pacifier?" Sarcasm dripped from Deacon's every word as he smirked and applied more pressure to the cuts.

(Y/n) gritted her teeth, fighting against the pain. "I'd prefer a lollipop, thank you very much," she replies with a snarky tone.

"Damn, I'm fresh out. Guess you'll have to suck it up and be a big girl," he chuckled once he finished cleaning the lacerations. "Need anything else, crybaby?"

The woman stood up with a smug grin and shoved him playfully. "I know what you need. A fist up your—"

"Hey!" Tucker yelled as she saw Deacon and (Y/n). "Get back to work!"

The (e/c)-eyed woman knew the old hag was shouting at her. Before she could respond and avoid another punishment, Deacon snapped back at Ada. "At least give the girl some time to rest. Not her fault that kid gave her a black eye."

"No. If one slacks off, the others will," Ada retorts.

"Jesus, Tuck. If you—"

"Deacon, it's fine." (Y/n) looked past the drifter and met Ada's fierce gaze. "I'll be returning to work."

The old woman nodded and beckoned Deacon to follow her. The drifter sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. When he went to leave, the woman tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. "When you come back, come and see me. It's important."

The drifter nodded. "Yeah. I'll be back soon."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<

By the time Deacon wiped out the Ripper camp by Patjens Lake, the moon had risen in the sky. More Freaks wandered the roads as he drove back to the Hot Springs. He reported to Tucker before searching the camp for (Y/n). Since it was nighttime, he knew everyone would be in their tents.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he greeted once he found her. She was sitting on her cot, fiddling with her fingers.

The moment she saw Deacon, she flew to her feet. "Prison would be a better place than here. Hell, I rather live out in the shit with the Freaks than spend another day here."

"Something happened while I was gone, didn't it?" He crossed his arms, watching her pace back and forth by her bed.

"No, but this isn't the first time that prick has injured me. I reported him to Tucker, but..."

"Let me guess: she just blew you off?"

"Yes!" (Y/n) turned her back to Deacon, lifting up her shirt.

He quickly averted his eyes, but he turned his gaze back to her when he caught a glimpse of something on her back. "The hell...?" He unconsciously reaches out, placing his hand on her back and trailing his fingers across the line of small, circular burns.

"The same damn guard who gave me the black eye used my back as an ashtray when I first arrived. He... He dragged me to the storage building and burnt my back with a fucking cigarette. Ripped my shirt off, placed the cigarette on my back, and laughed while he did it. I tried to tell someone, but no one believed me."

"That bastard... Where the hell is he now?"

Deacon went to check the camp for the guard, but (Y/n) stopped him when she grabbed his hand. "Please, Deek. They won't let me leave and everyone believes I'm the one harming myself. You're my only way out of this Hell."

It only took Deacon a few seconds to come up with a plan. He gripped her hand tightly in reassurance. "You're getting out of here tonight. Grab whatever the hell you need and let's go."

"Thank you, Deek," (Y/n) sighed in relief.

"Don't thank me until we get out that gate."

The woman grabbed the little that she had and followed Deacon to his bike. They hopped on and departed towards the front gate. Morosely, they were stopped at the gate by the very guard who'd turned the past few days into Hell for (Y/n). "She's not allowed to leave the camp."

Hearing the man's familiar voice resulted in (Y/n) tightening her arms around the drifter's waist. "Oh, yeah?" Deacon scoffed. "And what're you gonna do about it, huh?"

"Tucker said—"

"I don't give a shit what Tucker said. Listen, shit-for-brains, I know all about the crap you've done to her since she arrived. Now, you can either open the gate or I come over there and knock a few more of your goddamn teeth out. Your decision," Deacon smirked menacingly, eagerly awaiting the man's response.

"O-Open the gate!" He shouted with a quivering voice.

"Smart move," Deacon comments as a woman opens the gate. He pulls through the gate, leaving the Hot Springs Camp behind.

"Thank god..." He heard (Y/n) sigh as she rested her head against his back. "I swear, never send anyone to that camp unless you want to damn them to Hell. If prison still existed, it would be ten times better than that place."

"I'll keep that in mind," Deacon said.

The ride was silent besides the roaring engine of the bike and the occasional groans from Freakers along the highway. When (Y/n) realized they were leaving Belknap and entering the Cascade region, she was confused as to where they were going. "Where are we heading, Deek?"

"Well, uh... It'd make me feel better to know you were somewhere safe," the drifter replies.

"You're not taking me to Copeland's Camp, are you?" She inquired nervously. "He's almost as bad as Tucker."

"Hell no," he hastily responds. "I'm taking you to O'Leary Mountain. Remember that watchtower Boozer and I found a while back there?"

"Uh, yeah. You took me there once."

"Well, we spruced it up a bit and turned it into a safehouse."

"Won't three be a crowd?" The woman questioned as they ascended up the dirt path wrapped around the mountain.

"Nah. Boozeman won't mind and I sure as hell don't."

"Isn't it dangerous with how you and Boozer are wanted? I... kinda overheard one of the women at the Hot Springs talking about the price on your heads."

"Ah, shit. Sorry for not tellin' you earlier, but it'd still be safer than any camp. Trust me."

"If I didn't trust you, I would've shot you the moment you broke into my house," she laughed.

"You... You really thought about shooting me?" Deacon asked.

"If a strange person picked the lock on the front door of your house and casually walked in, wouldn't you think they'd be dangerous?"

The drifter was silent before agreeing with her. "Good point."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Wow," (Y/n) gasped when they reached the safehouse. "You two did more than tidy up. You fortified this place."

"Can never be too careful these days," Deacon comments as he pulled the motorcycle to a stop at the base of the watchtower.

"Truer words have never been spoken," she said.

Ascending the stairs, they walked up to the top of the watchtower. When they reached their destination, the two saw Boozer was snoring away on his bed. (Y/n) placed the few things she had on her on one of the many tables. Deacon placed his weapons in the gun locker before following the woman down the watchtower.

She continued to admire the two men's hard work. "Gotta admit—this is one hell of a place. I'm impressed." She glanced around, wondering what she could do to contribute. "So, what'll be my job?"

Deacon was slightly bewildered at the question. "Uh, well... How 'bout hunting and fishing?"

"So you did listen to my rambling these past two years! I'm a little shocked. Most guys would've tuned me out. But yeah, I can do that. Tired of trading with Cope, huh?" She grinned.

"Something like that."

(Y/n) was wondering if the drifter had any other conditions he wanted her to follow. "Anything else?"

"When you go hunting or fishing, Boozer or I have to come with you."

The woman shook her head. "Oh, no. I can do it on my own! I'm not gonna drag either of you along with me. You both are already busy doing shit for both Cope and Tucker."

"(Y/n), I—"

She placed her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to lock eyes with her. "I'm a big girl and can do things on my own. I know how to handle myself out there in the shit, okay?"

Deacon just stared into her glistening (e/c) eyes. He didn't want her going out on her own at all, but he knew she could handle practically any dangerous situation. With a heavy sigh, he found his answer. "Fine. You can go by yourself."

She smiled and pulled his face down, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, paralyzing him. "Great! I'll go fishing tomorrow. I just need the materials for a makeshift rod and I'll be ready to go in the morning. Now," she huffed. "We should be heading off to bed."

(Y/n) dropped her hands and headed back up the stairs of the watchtower. Deacon was still in shock from the kiss and remained glued to the spot. "What the hell just happened...?"