aftercare / daryl x mute!reader
summary: after spending a night with your boyfriend, you need to tell him how much you love him during aftercare. but the only problem is that you can't.
warnings: daryl x reader, mute!reader, fluff, kisses, sightly angst, aftercare, mentions of sex (they just had it ♡).
words count: 880.
taglist: @negansbestie & @vaniniweenie / if you want me to add you, just let me know!
You pulled a thin cotton sheet over your bare skin. Its softness embraced your legs, just as it did your arms. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and when you opened them, the darkness was gently pierced by the faint glow of fragile stars. Your body was still unraveling all the emotions—your lips, swollen and tasting faintly of him, your hands still feeling as though they were intertwined with his. Deep inside, an ache settled in the space he left behind.
Your hazelnut-colored hair spread across the pillow, and in a flash, you remembered something that made your cheeks burn—how he loved to grab it, pull it, in the heat of the moment. In a world where sound had been stolen from you, every sensation became sharper, a pleasure heightened when it was him who provided it.
Daryl sat at the edge of the bed, framed by the window, bathed in the soft light of the stars, as if they clung to him like dragonflies to a flower. You smiled, feeling a slight pull at the corners of your mouth, the happiness you felt by his side so immense it almost hurt.
What you admired most about him was how he embraced silence, turning it into a safe place. He rarely spoke, even though he knew you could read his lips; instead, he always tried to use his hands. A month after meeting you, he found a book to teach himself sign language, just so he could tell you one thing.
"I want to teach you how to use a bow." He could’ve communicated it more easily, but he wanted to learn your language. Soon after, he started using his new skills to warn you of danger or to tell you he’d brought food. Everything he did was genuine; they were little details he had for you because his heart guided him. That made your heart tell you to love him.
You had never been this lucky before.
A tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away before he could notice. The same finger that caught your tear traced the scars along Daryl’s back. He turned his head slowly, catching your gaze. Every time you were together, he would ask if you’d enjoyed it, if there was anything he could do differently, or if you wanted more. That last question was always the hardest, because there was no reality in which you wouldn’t want more of him.
You parted your lips, trying to form a word. It had been years since you’d attempted this. You knew it was impossible; sound was a world closed off to you, but it still felt unfair not being able to tell him you loved him. Daryl turned gently when he realized what you were trying to do, placing his warm hand on your cheek.
Your throat ached from the effort. Heat surged there, yet no sound would come. You felt helpless, overwhelmed by the pain of not being able to express how much he made you feel. Daryl picked up the book to refresh his memory, and it broke your heart even more. He spent hours learning your language, while you couldn’t speak a word of his.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, his gray eyes searching yours. You pressed your lips together because you didn't wanted to be in tears.
"Nothing," you signed with your right hand, though your heart ached. You sat up in bed, letting the sheet fall from your torso.
Daryl moved closer, placing his lips gently on your bare shoulder. His touch made you shiver, and his lips were as soft and warm as ever. Before he could pull away, you reached for him, bringing your mouth to his, deepening the kiss, letting your tongue savor the taste of him. You wanted him to understand everything you couldn’t say. He wasn’t expecting that boldness and gently pulled back.
Before he could speak, you moved your hand swiftly.
"I just wanted to tell you I love you." Daryl blinked, staring into your eyes.
"You’ve been telling me all night," he replied softly. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you lay back down. He didn’t hesitate to move over you, his lips tracing delicate patterns on your neck, collarbone, shoulder, and down to your stomach. He always lingered there, he loved leaving kisses on your belly.
He lifted his head slightly, and you tenderly caressed the scar beneath his eye.
"I wish I could say it out loud..." You traced the words with your lips, and he understood them instantly, without even looking at your hand. He dragged his lower lip from your belly button to the mole near your most sensitive spot. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling your heart open wide.
He moved back up to kiss you, and you glanced at his hand.
"I love you," he signed. You smiled, mirroring the same sign back to him.
He lay beside you, and you rested your head on his chest. Even if the words would never be spoken, together you had created a language of touches, signs, and kisses that no one could break. You hoped with all your heart that your future daughter would be able to say those words for you—words you would have shouted a thousand times for this man you loved.
