omg i see u write for hellsing and hellsing is just so underrated!! so can u pls do an obsessed anderson or alucard x fem reader headcanons?? or smut? or anythingggg any content of them would work!đđ
synopsis â â¨â your obsessed lover.
cw â â¨â obsessive themes, possession, stalking implications, religious themes.
a/n â â¨â was v excited to do this! iâm so happy you requested this friend đŤś
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Alucard knew you were going to be his the second he laid eyes on you. A soldier for Hellsing, practically a nobody in the grand scheme of things, known only for your loyalty. But to him? You were far more than that. Something rare. Something worth claiming.
God, he was infatuated with you. Any time you were around, heâd pauseâjust to watch you move. He savored every small laugh that escaped you, the quirk of your lips when you smiled, the way your fingers fumbled together when you slipped into awkwardness. Humans had always fascinated him⌠but you? You were something else entirely. He savoured every sweet moment with youâeven the ones where you barely registered his presence at all. Just being near you was enough for him. He never bothered giving anyone else the time of day, not unless it was Integra or Serasâbut with you, he did. You were the exception he didnât expect.
He didnât make his infatuation obvious. He knew better than thatâhe wouldnât risk it. So he stayed silent, but he never stopped watching. Observing. Always finding some small excuse, no matter how trivial, just to speak to you for a moment.
Until that began to change. Over time, he noticed you growing more comfortable with himânot just as a powerful vampire or a weapon, but as someone who, in his own way, seemed to care. And though he didnât show it often, he did. Far more than you realized. He took advantage of that trust, still sneaky, slipping in to see you more and more. He knew he had to make you his, and he did everything he could to ensure it, learning every detail about you, constantly keeping you safe⌠and it worked like a charm.
Once he secured you as his, he wasnât shy about showing it. He made sure everyone knew who you belonged to, leaving little love bites on your neck, taking you with him everywhere despite the difference in rank, and making it very clear that anyone who gave you the wrong kind of look would face the consequences. Alucard doesnât do casual. Love for him is absolute, all-consuming, a fire that burns brighter than his own immortality. Once he sets his gaze on someone, he doesnât just desire themâhe claims them. Every thought, every action revolves around that person, and he knows instinctively when they need him, even before they do.
He became⌠too present. At first it was comforting, the way he always seemed to know when you were stressed or tired or overwhelmed. Heâd show up out of nowhere with some quiet comment, or heâd stand behind you with that calm, unreadable expression that somehow made you relax. But it didnât stay comforting for long. It changedâslowly, subtlyâinto something that felt almost heavy. Something that pressed down on your lungs whenever you realized you hadnât gone a full hour without sensing him nearby.
Even when he wasnât physically beside you, you felt him. A weight at your back, a chill along your neck, a prickling awareness that he was watching. Sometimes youâd catch the faintest flicker of red in the corner of your vision, gone when you turned your head. He liked doing thatâletting you know without actually saying anything. A reminder that you werenât alone. That he wouldnât let you be.
And he knew you so well. Too well. He remembered every detail you ever mentioned, even offhand things you forgot you said. The little tells you gave when you were angry or sad or overwhelmedâhe picked up on all of it. And then he learned to use it against you, in quiet, subtle ways that never felt like manipulation until it was already done.
If he wanted you to stay in the mansion longer, heâd appear right as you grabbed your coat and mention some âurgentâ matter Integra needed handledâonly for you to find out later she had no idea what he was talking about.
If he didnât want you talking to a particular person, heâd say something offhanded, like, âBe careful with them,â in that calm, knowing tone that immediately put doubt in your stomach. It worked every time, and he knew it.
He never admitted to these things. He didnât have to. The way he looked at you told the whole story.
And despite everything, there were moments where heâd soften. Completely. Like when heâd brush his thumb over your cheekbone after a long mission, or when heâd stand behind you and absently tuck your hair back just so he could see your face better. Those moments werenât gentle because he was trying to comfort youâthey were gentle because he was obsessed. Because he wanted every part of you close, touchable, reachable. Because he wanted to remind you that even when he was soft, it was still him holding you.
But the suffocating partâthe part you could never quite get away fromâwas how he made himself essential. Heâd tear down your fears with a single sentence. Destroy your doubts with reassurance. He made it easy to lean on him. Too easy. Then, when you inevitably did rely on him, heâd smile, slow and satisfied, like heâd been waiting for that exact moment.
Alucardâs obsession wasnât loud or dramatic⌠it was creeping, inevitable. Overwhelming in a way that made your chest tighten. He didnât just want to love you. He wanted to surround you, shape you, fold himself into every corner of your life until you couldnât imagine a world without him.
That was what terrified you. And what kept you close.
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Andersonâs obsession didnât start with a desireâit started with a purpose. Like he believed it to be duty. With him convincing himself that God had placed you in his path for a reason. At first, he treated you like any other soul to be guided, watched over, corrected when necessary. But it didnât take long before that sense of duty morphed into something possessive, bordering on fanatic.
He became overly aware of you. Of the sound of your footsteps down the hall, of the way your voice softened when you spoke, of the kindness you showed others when you thought no one was looking. He told himself it was simply vigilance. A good priest always paid attention to the vulnerable.
But he wasnât fooling anyoneânot even himself. Not after the way his gaze lingered far too long. Not after the way his jaw clenched whenever someone else stood too close to you.
Now, Father Anderson wasnât subtle, not as much as he believed to be. He didnât hide the fact that he watched you. His stare was unblinking, almost suffocating. If he thought someone was a danger, or even a distraction, he stepped between you and them without a moments hesitation. A hand on your shoulder. A simple warning. Sometimes a not-so-quiet one. He didnât care if he made people uncomfortable. He wasnât here to make them comfortable.
His protectiveness became a cage before you realized it. Heâd tell you when a mission was âtoo dangerous,â even if youâd been assigned to it. Heâd show up uninvited, insisting it was unsafe for you to walk alone. Heâd pull you aside when he thought your choices were unwise, lecturing with that intense mix of frustration and concern that left you speechless.
And the worst part? He made it sound logical. Holy. Right. As if stepping away from him would be stepping away from salvation itself.
His words were warm yet⌠heavy, filled with conviction that wrapped too tightly around your thoughts. He had a way of speaking to you that made you feel guilty for even considering defying him. You didnât realize how deeply heâd worked his way into your mind until you found yourself justifying your actions to him before you even acted.
When he touched you, it was careful yet firm. A hand on your wrist to stop you from walking off. Fingers on your chin to make you look at him when he thought you werenât listening. He claimed it was guidance. It felt more like ownership.
But then there were the soft momentsâthe ones that made everything more confusing. How heâd kneel in front of you to bandage a scrape, muttering under his breath about keeping you safe. How his voice dropped from booming authority to something almost tender when you were upset. How heâd look at youânot with lust, but with something far more suffocating⌠devotion.
A devotion that could burn.
Anderson didnât love like a man. He loved like a crusade. Like a mission he couldnât abandon, even if it destroyed both of you in the process.
You were his chosen purpose. His calling. His temptation and test.
And once he accepted that, his obsession settled into something that wouldnât let up. Something holy and terrifying all at once. He wouldnât let harm touch you. He wouldnât let sin touch you. He wouldnât let anyone touch you. And if anyone tried? Well⌠Alexander Anderson never hesitated when it came to cleansing evil. Even if that âevilâ was simply someone standing too close to you.
