Braids [Dark!Walter x Vampire!Reader]

“Ow! Stop it! That hurts!”

“Then, hold still.”

“But, you’re pulling my hair!”

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is primarily your squirming.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking your chin into the crook of your arms, the sleek vanity cooling your heated skin. An assortment of blood-soaked bandages covered the cuts and bruises tearing the delicate vessels of your arms and cheeks. Though not horrendously painful, the constant stings from every opening were enough to irritate you.

Of course, Walter pulling and tugging at your messy, matted locks failed to make the situation any better.

“When I asked you to pull my hair back,” you half growled. “I meant get it it out of my face not yank off my scalp!”

The raven haired gentleman, with a quiet sigh, continued his assault on those tender nerve endings, sliding his fingers through your hair, gathering any loose strands into his grip.

In all your years in serving Hellsing, after all the battles you fought, after all the monsters perishing at your hands, never did you predict that the worst agony you would endure would be caused by the damn Angel of Death braiding your hair.

Sinking your fangs into your bottom lip, you buried your face into your palms. “You know, I could easily drain you of your blood if you don’t cut it out.”

“Coming from the young lady I so easily subdued in the streets,” he parted the long mess of hair into three sections, the locks loosely wrapping around his fingers.

You grunted. How true this was. Despite your supernatural strength and agility, this character, Walter C. Dornez specialized in vanquishing the forces of darkness. His skill was unmatched, not even by the undead.

“I could just dash,” you growled, the stinging from his pulling grating so much on your nerves, it left them raw.

“Again, quite pointless, my dear,” he replied, finally folding the pieces one over the other. “Besides, I know not why you keep up these protests. You were the one that asked me to do this.”

Again, he was right. No matter what comeback you concocted, no matter what witty needle you pricked, he always managed to retort every statement.

And with every bit of composure and aplomb, just making it all the more irritating.

At last, the abuse against your nerve endings ceased. After sliding the hair ribbon off of his wrists, and holding the end of the braid securely, he slid the silk fabric through his fingers until it dangled prettily at the end of your hair in a lovely bow.

“Alright then,” he said, crossing his arms. “Does that sit well with you?”

Finally, you raised your neck, the base aching from the strain. Your hair had been neatly pulled back in a lovely, French braid, laced perfectly, each section with equal amounts of hair, draped elegantly over your shoulder. Your brow arched a little and the corners of your mouth tilted into a light smirk.

“Not bad,” you said, wrapping a lock of your hair around your index.

A low chuckle resonated within the depths of his chest. “It’s better than anything you could do to say the least.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled sharply. “You don’t need to remind me, Walter.”

Suddenly, he flicked your temple, earning a high pitched yelp from you.

“Respect your authorities, little Draculina,” but as soon as you pivoted in your chair to stab him with a glare, the Angel of Death had disappeared.

“H-hey! Walter, that’s not fair!”

But, all you could hear was his quiet laugh, echoing within the halls of the mansion.