SILVER BULLET ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

━ x

"You're still alive." (Y/n) says in something similar to disbelief as she stares up at the young man.

"Yeah, well, I don't go around trying to piss off every single division," He pauses, looks at (y/n) with venom in his gaze. "—unlike a certain someone. Don't act all surprised."

Arthur knows the tone and pace of the conversation before it's even started properly. It reminds him of John and Abigail's bickering, in a way.

"At least I'm not the person that left his girlfriend of five years to die!"

Arthur has to refrain from drawing in a breath of surprise. The other young man looks at (y/n) like she's insulted his entire bloodline, his expression is the embodiment of hurt and anger.

How perfect, Arthur thinks, now he's caught in the proximity of a military camp, right between two old acquaintances turned enemies.

He's lost track of their quite fiery conversation, he only looks back up when he notices the young man point his handgun at (y/n).

"You wouldn't dare." She growls with a wicked smile on her face, approaches him until the muzzle of his gun is glued to her forehead. "You've always been a fucking coward, Max."

Arthur closes his eyes when he hears some suspicious sounds. Steps. Multiple people, maybe, he can't quite tell with all the background noise that's going on.

But he'd rather not risk getting caught. The conversation needs to end, and quick.

"I'm the coward? I'm the coward?! I'm not the one that ran away to—" (Y/n) seems to have the same thought as Arthur, she grabs the man's forearm and points his gun towards the sky. At the same time, Arthur hits the man over his head with the grip of his shotgun, knocking him unconscious.

He drops down to the cement like a ragdoll.

"Same thought, same time, huh?" (Y/n) gives Arthur a grin as if they'd just shared an inside joke, he's inclined to return it.

But there's more pressing matters at hand. Arthur brings his index to his own lips, then points to his ears. A cute frown settles on (y/n)'s face as she focuses on the sounds around them.

Surprise seeps through her neutral expression, she motions for the car, then points at Arthur. She needn't say more, he understands what she asks.

He'll make quick work of stealing the damn thing.

Meanwhile, (y/n) drags the young man they've just knocked out onto the backseat of the car, then secures his wrists and ankles together with some rope she finds in her backpack.

The engine rumbles, purring to life. Arthur smiles victoriously. His reckless youth finally provides some payoff.

(Y/n) plops down beside him, pats his shoulder urgently. "The patrol we've heard, they— They're getting closer. You need to go, now."

"Already am." Arthur responds, starting to drive backwards. "Put on your seatbelt."

A bullet hits the back window, both of them duck instinctively. Arthur glances backwards, notices at least three armed men running towards them. And the fact that the bullet has only left an indent in the window, nothing more. The wonders of plexiglass.

"Drive, drive, drive!" (Y/n) urges him on, he stomps down on the pedal until it hits the floor. Dust whirls up behind them, Arthur feels himself being pushed back into his seat by how quickly they gain speed. (Y/n) looks through the damaged back window, and judging by the way her breath stutters, the news she bears can't be too good.

The rearview mirrors are all dirty, he's only got (y/n) to rely on.

"Oh fuck, oh christ, they're coming after us. I think— No, you don't need to know that." She plops back down in her seat, retrieves the rifle from her back.

Arthur gives her a urgent side-glance. "What exactly is it that I don't need t'know?"

She starts opening the window on her side, unbuckles her seatbelt.

"Like I said, nothing. I'm taking care of it." With that, she moves to kneel on the seat, then leans out of the window, starting to shoot at whatever is behind them. (Y/n) fires a few bullets, then yelps out in pain as she withdraws back inside.

Arthur can only spare her the most fugitive of glances in favor of focusing on the bumpy road ahead, but he notices that a bullet has grazed her arm.

"Y'alright?"

"Yeah." Her tone is pressing, she sounds both angry and anxious. "Can you drive any faster?"

"Not if I don't plan on killin' the both of us." As he talks, Arthur pulls the wheel harshly to the left, avoiding a big rock in their way.

(Y/n) curses under her breath, starts reloading the rifle.

Arthur's foot almost slips off the pedal when a storm of bullets hits the back of their car. He'd recognize that steady, sharp stutter of explosions anywhere. A fucking machine gun.

His mouth feels dry. He glances at (y/n) in horror, the awful sound of bullets stops for a second. Whoever is shooting at them must be reloading. Their back window remains unpenetrated, but if the previous process is repeated once, maybe twice more if they're lucky, that won't be the case any longer.

"I 'didn't need to know' about a truck with a goddamn machine gun, woman?!"

"Yeah, because you need to focus on the driving." (Y/n) looks around frantically as she talks, checking between the seats, then popping open the glovebox in search of anything useful.

Empty guns, ammunition that doesn't fit their weapons, a half empty bottle of whiskey, expired canned beans—

The bottle of whiskey!

Arthur and (y/n) both set their hands on top of the other's leg, they speak up at the same time.

"Molotowcocktail."

The look at each-other for a millisecond, then nod.

(Y/n) grins briefly, then gestures towards Arthur. "Your knife."

Arthur holds the steering wheel with one hand, searches his belt with the other, retrieving the blade (y/n) had asked for.

She takes it from him in the blink of an eye, reaches towards the back seat. She cuts off a piece from the passed out passenger's shirt, simultaneously unscrews the bottle with her teeth.

The rain of bullets starts once more, Arthur lowers his head instinctively. (Y/n) returns to her seat as well, ducked low as she pours some whiskey over the rag, then stuffs it inside the bottle, leaving one end outside.

"Wait until they gotta reload, then throw." Arthur tells her. If (y/n) weren't so focused on lighting the rag on fire, she might've rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not suicidal."

Arthur nods, focuses on keeping the car steady.

The bullets stop. (Y/n) moved as quick as lightning, her feet are on the seat, her torso hangs out of the window, she holds onto the top of the car with one hand.

"Steady, Arthur!" She shouts when he accidentally drives over a bump.

"I'd like to see ya keep a car steady when you're drivin' through a damn field!"

He sees her draw in a breath, her whole body tensing.

"Don't drop that thing, we only have one!"

"I know!" (Y/n) responds, tosses the bottle upwards in the slightest before catching it again, as if to weigh out her throw. "Now shut up!"

Can't be long until they're finished loading, she needs to hurry—

The rearview mirrors flash orange, in spite of how filthy they are. Arthur hears distant screams.

(Y/n) swings herself back inside the car.

"Lost them for now. Keep driving."

As if he could ever dream of taking his foot off the gas pedal after everything that had just happened.

[I may or may not have listened to the Uncharted soundtrack while writing this. Also! I decided to do some minor changes to the previous chapters and make this a zombie au fic instead of a "The last of us" au, so that it's accessible even to those that don't know anything about tlou. Hope you understand♥️]