Days Gone Oneshots

Deacon St. John || The Supply Run

A/n: Welcome! If you're choosing to read this, you know exactly why you're here! Let's get this oneshot rolling! Also, I'll be giving prompts to help you understand the story a little better. Hope you all enjoy this new book! Love you all!!!
~✨Celestial✨~
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Prompt: You have been a Drifter alongside Deacon and Boozer for almost a year and a half. After spending tons of time with Deacon, you develop feelings for him but realize he still cares about his deceased wife, Sarah. One day, the two of you head out on a supply run for an injured Boozer but end up holed up in a cabin due to an approaching horde. Will you admit your feelings or force yourself to move on and give up on love?
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~(Y/n)'s POV~

"Ah, shit!" Boozer wailed as I poured vodka onto his injured arm. I bit my tongue, forcing the amused smirk from coming forth. The man glared at me, already knowing I was enjoying his pain. "Laugh it up, (Y/n). I'll make sure to laugh the next time I see you fall flat on your ass and get injured."

"Oh, I'm only amused because this is payback," I stated, using a rag to pat his burnt arm and absorb the excess vodka.

"Payback for what?" He questioned.

"The time I slipped on the steps after it rained and you laughed at me," I retorted. "I could've split my head open!"

"Deek broke your fall. Mostly..." Boozer shrugs, pulling his arm out of my grasp after I finish wrapping it up with gauze.

"He tried to catch me but ended up slipping, too!"

"Stop your whining, (Y/n). You both survived," he scoffed with a smirk.

With a huff, I placed the remaining gauze on the table beside Boozer's bed. "You must be feeling better if you're able to talk like that."

"You wasted perfectly good booze on my wound." Boozer held up his right arm encased in white. "But I'm glad you did. Not a fan of infections."

"No one is, Boozer. Let's just hope the vodka was enough. I need to go on a supply run tomorrow and hopefully I can find some proper antiseptic for your arm or even some pain medicine to help you relax."

"I appreciate it, (Y/n). Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. I've got to get the stuff before you can be grateful," I smiled gently.

The air between us filled with silence as I sat down beside Boozer. Leaning forward, I cup my hands in my lap and listen to the sound of distant gunfire. Staring down at the floorboard, I sighed heavily. The man beside me bumped his shoulder against mine and I looked up. The serious expression on his face perplexed me. "What is it, Boozer?"

"You better tell him," he plainly responded.

"Tell who what?" I pondered.

"Deacon. You better tell him or he'll never know. He's a dense asshat most of the time."

"You answered half my question," I rebuttal.

"You already know the rest of the answer." Boozer was silent for a split second before continuing. "Why're you afraid to tell him?"

I flew to my feet, my boot knocking against the metal frame. "The outbreak happened two years ago. Deacon lost his wife and for God's sake, he has her name tattooed on the side of his neck! By the way he's been acting lately, he's still hooked on Sarah and he deserves to be. She was his wife. No man who truly loved his wife would be over her even after two grueling years."