“Drying Their Hair„
Characters: Albert James Moriarty, William James Moriarty, Louis James Moriarty.
Tags: Short fluff, Established relationships, Wet hair, Reader dries hair of their S/O, Married couples.
Format: Story Writing.
William J. Moriarty
You watch as the bathroom door opens and your husband walks out, water dripping from his body - only a towel wrapped around his waist as he runs a hand through his blond hair. Orange hues of sunlight cascade onto the skin of his fairly toned ab muscles from the windows.
“Darling—” He begins. “Not now, I'm busy.” You murmur, eyeing him up and down. Truly, you were busy, because when else would you find the time to appreciate that body when he was already so busy with his job as a professor & a crime consultant?
“My dear, if you have time to gawk at me like that then I can surely assume you have enough time to dry my hair?” He raises an eyebrow, passing you a towel that you swear wasn't in either of his hands just seconds ago.
“Where did that come from?” You ask, sitting up in bed as you look down at the towel that he passed to you.
“The gall to speak back to you or the towel?” He smirks.
“Both.” You say, grinning at his witty words as you watch him drag a stool infront of your bed and place himself down on it, facing you. He leans down a little so you can easily dry his hair without having to strain upwards to match his height. You scooch up closer to the edge of the bed and place the towel on his soft blond hair.
“Who knows?” He sighs, satisfied as you begin to dry his hair with the towel - making sure to be gentle in your movements. He leans further against you, face resting into your chest as you continue to pat his hair down with the towel.
“William?” You whisper, feeling his arms wrap around your waist lazily as you continue to dry his hair.
“...Hm?” He hums, head drooping and eyelids growing heavy.
“Are you going to fall asleep? You haven't even gotten dressed. You'll catch a cold.”
“Mmm..” He hums again. You're not sure if that meant he would stay awake or fall asleep. But when you hear his breath grow slower and his grip around your waist loosen, you begin to think that it was the latter.
Albert J. Moriarty
He's just returned from being dispatched by the government for an entirety of four days to take down a national-threat level criminal. It's safe to say that when he came back, he's acting very clingy towards you.
He'd saunter in through the door, arms wrapped around you and burying your face into the crook of your neck, as you're preparing yourself a cup of tea.
“You smell so good. So warm. So much like home.” He murmurs softly, breathing in your comforting scent.
“And you reek of sweat. Go take a shower.” You tell him, nudging him away with your elbow. He groans, detaching himself away from you as he sulks away to the bathroom.
When he returns, he practically drags you to the vanity mirror hands you a towel and sits himself down on a chair infront of it.
“What?” You ask. “My hair, love. Won't you dry it for me?” He looks at you with his handsome features, smirking. He reaches up his pointer finger to poke at your cheek.
You melt, feeling yourself redden slightly and hide it away with a scoff as you begin to dry his hair. He relaxes in your touch, facing the mirror as your hands work expertly.
“I don't understand why you felt the need to have me dry your hair infront of a mirror, though. Perhaps you've been told that your spouse was actually a vampire and you felt the need to confirm it yourself?”
You question, focused entirely on drying off his hair with the towel when he laughs softly. It's a nice sound - his laughter. So warm, so beautiful. So, so full of love for you.
“No. That's not it.” he says, smiling to himself as he looks at the two of you in the mirror. You notice his gaze focused on your face. “I've been away for days, sweet love.”
“Your point?”
“My point, (Name), is that having a mirror infront of us allows me to steal glances at you and have you touch me at the same time. Something I couldn't do without hindering your efforts had I been looking up to face you instead.”
Louis J. Moriarty
You would have to be the one offering to dry this sweet man's hair. I presume he'd be too embarrassed to tell you to do it for him, especially if the two of you have recently gotten married. Especially pre-timeskip.
“Louis, let me do it for you.” You offer, grabbing a towel and then walking over to him.
“Ah, no. It's alright, (Name). I possibly couldn't—” He attempts to refute and you shush him with a kiss to the lips. He flushes red immediately, staggering back and grabbing onto a nearby chair to prevent his knees from giving out.
You push him down onto that very chair, lips still locked onto his for a few moments before you pull away, smiling smugly down at him. He looks up at you with a somewhat dazed and somewhat surprised expression, slightly out of breath. His eyes falls to your lips momentarily before he rips his gaze away, clearing his throat.
You're stifling a laughter making it's way upward your throat when he pulls you down onto his lap, making you face him. You gasp softly, surprised at the sudden action.
He's not one to talk much and would most likely be nuzzling against you as you as you begin to dry his hair.
“How bold.” You tease, grinning widely.
“No. Only comfortable.” He blabbers against your shoulder, sighing in pleasure when he feels you rub his hair with the towel to dry it.
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