The Wanderer
The Walking Dead x Modern! Reader
Synopsis: Waking up in one of your favorite shows is a dream come true— even if there are zombies everywhere. Hey, at least they don’t seem to notice you AND you found an old Walkman with a ton of tapes!
WC: 1.8k
TW: brief walker description
The rain had been falling for hours.
Distant thunder rumbles as water continues to pelt against your windows, turning them into mirrors that reflect the warm glow of the living room back at you. Every now and then, headlights from passing cars streaked across the glass, brief flashes of white and red before disappearing into the wet darkness outside.
It was the perfect weather for lazing about inside.
You were curled up on one end of the couch, wrapped tightly in your favorite blanket until only your head remained visible. The blanket had long since trapped your body heat, turning the little nest you’d created into a cocoon of warmth that made the thought of standing up feel genuinely offensive.
A half-finished bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table within easy reach. Beside it rested a large cup of soda, beads of condensation slowly sliding down the plastic. The open bag of Reese’s Pieces was tucked against your hip, forgotten for the moment as your attention remained fixed on the television.
The familiar opening theme of The Walking Dead echoed softly through the apartment.
Again.
At this point, you couldn’t even pretend this rewatch hadn’t been planned.
You had intended to watch a single episode, maybe two at the most.
Instead, several hours had vanished without your notice.
The second season had always been one of your favorites. It wasn’t the most action-packed season, and it certainly wasn’t the fastest, but there was something about Hershel’s farm that kept drawing you back. Maybe it was the temporary illusion of safety, or maybe it was the way the characters still had enough hope left to believe things might eventually get better.
Or maybe you were just nostalgic.
Either way, you had found yourself back here yet again.
You watched as the survivors argued on-screen, already knowing exactly how every conversation would end. Every reveal, every betrayal, every death had been permanently etched into your memory years ago.
That didn’t stop you from watching with rapt attention.
When a character made a terrible decision, you rolled your eyes.
When someone said something hypocritical, you immediately called them out despite being completely alone.
When one of your favorite scenes appeared, you found yourself smiling before it had even properly begun.
There was something deeply comforting about knowing what would happen next.
Life rarely offered that luxury.
Stories did.
The episode continued to play while rain tapped gently against the windows and the occasional crackles of lighting lit the room up in bright spurts. Time slipped by unnoticed. One handful of popcorn became another. Then another. Somewhere along the way, the candy bag grew lighter.
By the time the credits rolled, you were surprised to discover the popcorn bowl was nearly empty.
You leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, intending to turn the television off.
Instead, your thumb hovered over the button.
The next episode was already loading.
You stared at the countdown.
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
“I should go to bed…”
The empty apartment failed to offer an opinion.
Two.
One.
The episode started.
You sighed dramatically and settled deeper into the couch.
“One more.”
A promise neither you nor the universe believed as the opening scenes began to play. The farm was gone and the group was on the road.
Lost.
Exhausted.
Surrounded by an endless world of death.
You watched the familiar images unfold while absentmindedly reaching for your bag of candy. Your fingers dipped into the bag and camp up empty.
Frowning, you peered inside.
Nothing.
You blinked.
Hadn’t there been half a bag left?
The realization made a laugh bubble up in your throat.
Apparently not.
Setting the empty bag aside, you stretched beneath the blanket. Your shoulders popped pleasantly. The warmth around you seemed to double the moment you relaxed.
You glanced toward the kitchen, the microwave clock catching your attention.
11:47 PM.
Later than expected but not surprising.
The rain continued pouring outside while the TV cast flickering light across the room.
Everything felt peaceful.
Safe.
For a moment, you simply sat there and enjoyed it. A yawn escaped before you could stop it, causing your eyes to water. The characters on-screen continued their journey down an abandoned road while you fought off a second yawn.
You were losing.
Badly.
The sounds of the episode gradually blended together with the rain. The groans of distant walkers mixed with the hum of the refrigerator. The steady rhythm of dialogue became harder to follow as your attention drifted.
Your eyelids felt heavier with every passing minute.
You blinked once.
Twice.
The television seemed strangely bright when you opened your eyes again.
The image on-screen had shifted to a massive herd of walkers moving together through the countryside.
Something felt… off.
You blinked a few times, trying to clear the lingering haze from your mind.
The herd was still crossing the screen. Hundreds of walkers shuffled together beneath an endless blue sky, moving with the same relentless pace that had made them so unsettling all those years ago. It should have looked familiar. You had seen the episode countless times.
Instead, you found yourself frowning.
The image looked unusually sharp, noticeably lacking the visible grain that was present in the early season.
The sunlight looked brighter.
The details seemed clearer somehow.
You shifted beneath your blanket, intending to sit up a little straighter, only to pause when something hot brushed against your face.
Hot?
That wasn’t right.
Your apartment was comfortably warm, but not hot. Certainly not hot enough for sunlight to feel like it was resting directly on your skin.
Slowly, you became aware of other sensations as well. A breeze stirred against your arms. Somewhere nearby, grass rustled softly. The sounds were faint, but distinct enough that they immediately felt out of place.
Confusion began to replace the last remnants of drowsiness.
You blinked again.
The television remained bright.
Too bright.
A knot of unease formed in your stomach.
When you looked upward, expecting to see the familiar ceiling of your apartment, your mind simply stopped.
For one impossible moment, your thoughts went completely blank.
There was no ceiling.
No light fixture.
No apartment.
Above you stretched a vast blue sky unmarred by anything except a few drifting clouds.
You stared at it.
Then stared some more.
Your brain stubbornly refused to make sense of what your eyes were telling it.
That wasn’t possible.
You had been sitting on your couch.
You remembered the weight of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You remembered the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and the candy tucked beside you on the cushions. You remembered the rain tapping against the windows.
You remembered it all with perfect clarity.
So why were you looking at the sky?
A sharp jolt of fear shot through your chest.
You pushed yourself upright so quickly that dizziness washed over you. Instead of sinking into couch cushions, your hands met rough grass and uneven dirt. The texture scraped against your palms, startlingly real beneath your touch.
The sight of it sent your pulse racing.
You scrambled to your feet.
The world spun around you.
A wide field stretched around you, interrupted only by patches of trees and distant hills. There were no buildings. No roads. No signs of civilization. Nothing remotely familiar.
For several seconds, you simply turned in place, searching desperately for something that made sense.
There had to be an explanation.
A prank.
A dream.
A medical emergency.
Anything.
Your breathing quickened as you gaze swept across the landscape again and again. The harder you looked, the worse the panic became. Every direction revealed more of the same empty countryside.
“No…”
The word slipped out before you could stop it.
Your voice sounded wrong in the open air.
Too small.
Too fragile.
You swallowed hard and tried to steady yourself, but your hands had already begun to shake. Reaching into your pocket was almost instinctive. You searched for your phone, hoping for something familiar to anchor yourself to.
Your pocket was empty.
A fresh surge of panic crashed through you.
You checked again, turning it inside out.
Then your other pocket.
Then both a third time, despite knowing how ridiculous it was.
Nothing.
No phone.
No wallet.
No keys.
The realization struck with alarming force. Whatever had happened, you hadn’t simply wandered outside while half asleep. Everything from your life was gone.
You felt your chest tighten.
The beginnings of a panic attack clawed their way upward.
“Help!”
The shout burst from your throat before you consciously decided to call out.
Your voice carried across the field.
No answer came.
You shouted again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
The silence that followed was somehow worse than if no sound had existed at all. It left you along with your racing heartbeat and spiraling thoughts.
Then the wind shifted.
The smell hit you almost instantly.
Rot.
Your stomach lurched.
It was a foul, sickening odor that seemed to coat the back of your throat. Instinctively, you raised a hand to cover your nose, but it did little to help.
The smell only grew stronger.
A chill crawled up your spine.
Something about it felt familiar.
Not because you had ever encountered anything quite like it before, but because your brain had already begun drawing connections that you desperately did not want to acknowledge.
Slowly, you turned toward the source.
The figure emerging from the tall grass looked human at first glance.
At second glance, it looked anything but.
Its movements were wrong. Its skin hung in gray, decaying strips. Part of its face appeared to have collapsed inward, exposing darkened teeth beneath ruined flesh.
A scream caught in your throat.
Every instinct screamed at you to run, yet you remained frozen where you stood.
Because you recognized it.
Not the person.
The creature.
You knew exactly what it was.
A walker.
Years spent watching episodes on your couch. Endless discussion posts online. Character deaths that had left you staring at your television is disbelief.
As though determined to confirm your worst fears, another figure staggered into view behind the first. Then another.
A herd.
A cold wave of dread washed through your entire body.
The possibility that had been lurking at the edge of your thoughts suddenly stepped into the light, impossible to ignore any longer.
The realization shattered whatever composure you had managed to cling to.
Tears stung your eyes. Your breathing became shallow and uneven. Every horrifying memory associated with the series seemed to crash into your mind at once. You remembered the deaths. The starvation. The violence. The countless ways people suffered long before they died.
Most terrifying of all, you knew that unlike the characters, you weren’t written for this world.
You weren’t a survivor.
You were a fan who had been watching from the safety of a couch less than five minutes ago.
And now that safety was gone.
With barely any time to think, you turned on your heels and ran.
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New story, woohoo! Hope y’all liked it!
I’m actually super proud of the banner considering it was first time actually trying to make one 😩
I've been searching for those type of fanfictions for twd FOR MONTHS. Thank you 🙂↕️🫡
