For almost three years, Lingara Valehart survived the apocalypse by doing what others would call impossible---hiding instead of fighting, running instead of standing her ground, and refusing to let the world harden her heart. While others became stronger, colder, and deadlier, she remained soft. And somehow, she survived. What Lingara doesn't know is that somewhere along the way, two mesmerizing bluish eyes of a quiet hunter with a crossbow began watching from the shadows. Daryl Dixon. ₊˚.༄🦋⋆˚｡୨୧🏹๑‧˚₊ꔛ⊹˚🧟‍♂️₊꩜ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. Top Rankings: 🏅#1 twddaryldixon 🏅#1 daryldixonfanfiction 🏅#1 twdlovestory 🏅#1 glennrhee 🏅#2 thewalkingdeaddaryldixon 🏅#4 twdcast 🏅#16/26.5k zombieapocalypse 🏅#21/44.7k zombies

Elena was always composed and methodical. She knew how to survive the world way before it finished. She wasn't looking for attachments, for people to call a family. Because attachments are liability, make you weak especially in this new world where dead are walking and living are more dangerous than before. I don't own anything or anyone, except my OCs. Daryl Dixon x OC; sort of slow burn with a lot of subtexts. Warnings: Strong language, eventual sexual content, violence, blood, self-harm triggers, attempted sexual assault triggers.