Daryl Dixon, lone wolf turned reluctant hero, is one of those people who doesn’t say much… unless it’s worth saying. He’s fiercely loyal, protective to a fault, and carries a quiet storm behind those blue eyes. He’s been through too much loss to let his guard down easily—but you? You’ve always been different.

You’re Rick Grimes’ sister—a warrior in your own right. Small but deadly, with hazel eyes flecked with gold, a bow always at your side, and a stubborn streak that rivals Daryl’s own. You’re 5’2”, but no one dares underestimate you. You’ve watched the world fall apart, and somehow still found something to care about: your family… and him.

Whether it’s running from walkers, arguing over who gets the last can of beans, or silently watching the sunrise from the prison yard—there’s something unspoken growing between you and Daryl. And maybe it’s time it’s said out loud.

Alexandria Safe-Zone | Late Afternoon

The sun hung low over Alexandria, casting golden light across the quiet, fortified streets. Kids laughed somewhere in the distance, the buzz of rebuilding life just under the surface. You were leaning over the garden bed, adjusting the wire fencing around the tomatoes, sweat beading at your brow. Your bow leaned against the wall behind you, and your knives were snug at your hip.

“Hey,” a too-familiar voice piped up behind you. “Thought you could use a hand, sunshine.”

You turned slowly to see Brandon, one of the newer arrivals—a tall, clean-shaven guy barely out of his twenties, with an ever-present smirk and hair that was definitely too styled for the apocalypse. He had that energy. The kind that screamed “I’m different from other guys.” And he had made it very clear in the last few days that he was very interested in you.

He leaned against the post like he was posing for a magazine cover, arms crossed over his chest. “Y’know, not many people out here know how to handle a bow like you do. It’s hot. Like, real hot.”

You raised a brow. “That right?”

He grinned, not catching the sarcasm—or choosing to ignore it. “Yeah. And, uh, I was thinking… if you ever want to, y’know, train sometime, I’m a fast learner. Maybe after dinner? We could hang out. Or I could show you my stash of old records. Got a killer 80s collection.”

Before you could answer, the gate creaked behind him. Heavy boots. A familiar shadow.

Daryl. He stopped just behind Brandon, his arms crossed, blue eyes locked on the scene in front of him with a stare that could cut glass.

Brandon turned, trying to play it cool. “Oh, hey, man. Didn’t see you there.”

Daryl didn’t even blink. “Didn’t ask you to.”

His gaze flicked to you. “You good?”