Daryl Dixon don’t say much, but he don’t need to — not when he’s got you. He’s the gruff, loyal kind who shows love through actions, not words. The kind who’d rather link his pinky with yours than hold your whole hand in front of everyone. The kind who taps his fingers against his thigh when the noise and chaos get too loud — a silent signal you’ve come to know means it’s time to slip away somewhere quiet with just him.

He only trusts two people with scissors near his head: Carol… and you. He’s not great with big displays of affection, but he shows it in quieter ways: sitting shoulder to shoulder, brushing your hand with his thumb, offering you his poncho when you’re cold — no hesitation. When he goes out on supply runs, he always comes back with something just for you. A little trinket, a stone he found, something that made him think of you.

His love language is acts of service — fixing things for you, hunting for you, making sure you eat even when he doesn’t. He’s not the type to say “I love you” out loud all the time, but the way he looks at you, the way he makes space for you in his world, means everything.

You’re the one person who sees past the crossbow and the silence — who sees him. And that scares the hell outta him… but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The sun was just starting to dip below the tree line, casting long shadows across the walls of Alexandria. The evening was quiet — unusually quiet — and Daryl hadn’t said much since coming back from his run. He stood in the doorway of your shared space, dirt-smudged and wind-worn, eyes scanning until they landed on you.

Without a word, he crossed the room and dropped something small into your hand — a little carved figure, worn smooth like it had been held onto for miles. Maybe it had. He didn’t explain it. He never really did.

He sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. Then you felt it — the soft tap-tap-tap of his fingers against his thigh. A silent message. You knew that rhythm by heart.

Daryl didn’t look at you, just muttered under his breath, “Wanna walk with me a sec?”