The Walking Dead kicked off in 2010. It is based on a comic series. The show tracks survivors in a zombie apocalypse. They fight to stay alive and keep their humanity. It is packed with diverse characters, action and drama. The Walking Dead transformed into a cultural juggernaut. It even inspired spin-offs and movies.

Meet the couples from The Walking Dead

Daryl and Connie

Oh man, this duo is quiet-but-deadly in the best way — Daryl’s the gruff lone wolf with a crossbow and a soft spot he pretends not to have, Connie’s the fierce, blind scout who reads the world with her ears and a ridiculous sense of humor. They’re like two halves of the same stubborn coin: Daryl refuses to use words sometimes but will carry you through a swamp, Connie trusts instincts over maps but actually has a secret collection of maps (don’t ask). Their bond feels improvised and totally earned, messy and practical — also, Daryl definitely hums off-key when nervous, which is adorable. They’re survivors who make a home out of scraps and quiet jokes, which is honestly my favorite.

Jerry and Nabila

This pair is the sunniest distraction in the apocalypse — Jerry’s basically a walking hug with terrible jokes, and Nabila is this fierce, graceful fighter who can also bake? (Like, I’m not sure where that last part came from but imagine it.) They’re equal parts comic relief and dependable muscle; when things go sideways they’re the couple you want at your back because they’ll both crack a joke and then sprint into danger. Jerry somehow manages to be both extremely goofy and terrifyingly brave, and Nabila keeps him grounded while also being kind of a loving chaos magnet.

Aaron and Eric

Okay so Aaron is the calm organizer, the guy who can sell you on civilization and make a spreadsheet for safety routes, and Eric is the warm, dazzling soft-core partner who lights everything up — they balance each other like a really good recipe. Aaron is practical, diplomatic, sometimes annoyingly patient, but he’s also oddly sentimental (he keeps little notes, I swear), while Eric is the one who’ll wear fifty scarves and still somehow steal the scene. Together they’re the community-building, handbook-writing couple who make tough choices with a side of hugs. They’re steady and surprisingly romantic in a quiet, totally-not-showy way.

Henry and Lydia

This is the messy, hopeful, utterly human romance where broken people learn to be less broken together, and no — it’s not neat and that’s the point. Henry is earnest and impulsive, always three steps toward “let’s help everyone” and sometimes two steps into trouble, while Lydia is jagged and guarded but also has this secret fondness for small soft things (kittens? a chipped mug? who knows). Their dynamic is protective and awkward and really tender when it counts; they argue and then patch things up like it’s a hobby. It’s the kind of couple that grows into leaders without planning to, and you can tell they’ll make weird traditions together.

Abraham and Rosita

Fireworks, loud engines, and strangely specific domestic spats — that’s these two in a nutshell. Abraham is big-voiced, sword-on-the-roof bravado mixed with surprisingly deep, sincere declarations, and Rosita is sharp, competent, and the kind of woman who can fix a gun and also unexpectedly humm a lullaby. They clash, they flirt, they lead from the front, and somehow it’s both exhausting and ridiculously inspiring to watch. Also, Abraham probably collects road maps and Rosita burns them occasionally just to keep him honest — not sure how that works, but it feels right.

Carol and Ezekiel

If you like your love with a side of theater and ruthlessness, this is it — Carol is simultaneously everyone’s mom and the person you do not want to cross, while Ezekiel is flamboyant horse-owner-king with the softest smile and the most dramatic speeches. Their relationship is this beautiful, odd blend of tactical cruelty and royal-level comfort; she’ll bake cookies and then quietly rearrange your entire defense strategy. Ezekiel’s fondness for pomp (velvet capes, pet tigers — yes, definitely) somehow softens Carol’s steel, and she lets herself be tender in ways she never allowed before. It’s slow, soulful, and weirdly majestic — like a very functional fairy tale that’s been through a lot.

Rick and Michonne

Classic apocalypse power couple — Rick’s the worn, stubborn leader who keeps trying to do the right thing even when it’s impossible, Michonne’s the katana-wielding guardian with a heart she hides behind a samurai stare. They fight for their family like nothing else, and their chemistry is this quiet, fierce thing — less rom-com and more “we will burn the world down for each other when needed.” Rick doubts himself all the time but somehow still pulls people forward, while Michonne’s honesty cuts through nonsense like a blade (literally). Together they’re the backbone of a battered civilization and also really good at making pancakes? I feel like that’s a thing they’d do.

Glenn and Maggie

Hope personified, honestly — Glenn’s the scrappy, fast-moving optimist who’d risk everything for a can of food and a plan, and Maggie’s the steel-nerve farmer-turned-leader whose leadership grows from grief into fierce determination. They’re the rebuilding couple: they argue about whether to plant tomatoes here or there, then make a plan and fix a fence at midnight while eating cold coffee. Glenn is endlessly loyal and occasionally annoyingly upbeat, Maggie is pragmatic and terrifyingly capable, and both of them have this stubborn belief in a future that’s almost contagious. It’s the “we’ll rebuild it ourselves” romance, forever.

Sasha and Bob

This pair is bittersweet and kind of a masterclass in how love can still be ridiculous during the end of the world — Sasha’s the stoic, sharp-eyed sniper who keeps her heart in a locked box, and Bob is the singer-foodie who jokes to keep the darkness at bay. They balance: she’s tense and tactical, he’s warm and unexpectedly brave, and when they’re together it’s like the rules relax for a second and humanity peeks through. Bob probably carries hot sauce in his pocket (please) and Sasha definitely glaringly pretends not to laugh at his dumb lines. Their story is tender, honest, and inevitably tragic but also full of small, glorious moments.