you gave me Alucard brainrot. I'll haunt you with this thought:
Forever is a dangerous word. How can a mortal offer eternity?
mhmmkay LOVE YOU BYE 🤍
NYXIE. You intended this as one of those "Alucard wearing a stupid Spencer's shirt" asks, but unfortunately you accidentally stuck your hand directly into one of the most load-bearing wounds of his entire psyche.
Forever is a dangerous word. How can a mortal offer eternity?
He would say it like a tease, almost idly, maybe while touching you with that deceptive tenderness of his as though he were only amused by human beings making promises too large for their little lifespans. The question, though, is far too precise to be casual.
Alucard knows that when a mortal says forever, they usually mean for as long as I am here. To the mortal, that is total devotion. To the immortal, it is also a countdown.
That does not make the promise meaningless to him, but it does make it dangerous. He wants the devotion badly enough to distrust it. He has lived too long, survived too many endings and carries far too much damage around the matter of being chosen to hear forever without also hearing a built-in expiration date.
So the question becomes three things at once—warning, test, invitation.
He is warning you that loving an immortal comes with arithmetic. He is testing what you actually mean when you offer him permanence. He is placing eternity between you without openly admitting that he possesses the means to make your promise literal.
What answer could you give him?
I mean for the rest of my life confirms that your forever ends.
I wish I could give you more acknowledges the terrible limitation.
Then make me immortal places the danger, the decision and everything remaining of your existence directly into his hands.
I think the answer that would wound him most is simpler:
"I can offer you everything I have."
"That is not eternity."
"No, but if you want eternity from me, you will have to ask."
Now the choice has been returned to him and he can no longer hide behind a philosophical objection to mortal language. Now he has to confront whether he wants not only the whole of your life, but an endless life beside his.
So yes, he is teasing you. He is also laying immortality on the table with the delicacy of a knife and waiting to see whether you recognise it as invitation.
anyway congratulations on concealing a psychological explosive inside a spencer's shirt, midnight queen 🖤 a proper fic on this will be coming once my workload removes its steel-toed boot from my throat. thank you SOOOO MUCH for still sending this even after we talked about it I LOVE YOU 🖤
Summary: While most people panic in stressful situations, you just become sarcastic. The only question is, will Alucard take offense?
Pairing: Alucard (Hellsing Ultimate) x Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)
Words: 2,217
Warning(s): Mention of blood/gunfire/violence, but nothing explicit
Note(s): This is my first time writing for Hellsing, so I hope I got this right!
Rain battered the manor windows with relentless force, each strike sharp enough to sound like distant gunfire echoing through the estate. Which, frankly, did absolutely nothing for your nerves.
The entire Hellsing manor already carried the suffocating atmosphere of a place built more for burial than living. Vast stone corridors swallowed sound whole beneath their vaulted ceilings. Dark mahogany paneling climbed the walls like old dried blood, polished to a shine that reflected only warped shadows back at you. Portraits of long-dead Hellsings stared down from gilded frames with expressions so severe it felt less like decoration and more like active judgment. Even the air smelled old: candle wax, dust, rain-soaked stone, and something faintly metallic lingering beneath it all.
Storms somehow made the estate worse.
The lightning turned every corridor into a stuttering nightmare of light and darkness. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the floor, warping around corners like living things retreating just out of sight. Thunder rolled through the manor’s bones with a low rumble that vibrated beneath your shoes. Between each crash came stretches of silence so complete they felt oppressive, the kind that made you suddenly aware of every tiny sound you made- the rustle of paper beneath your arm, the soft creak of your shoes against polished flooring, the quiet pull of your own breathing.
You adjusted the stack of mission reports tucked under your arm, fingers tightening slightly against the folders.
And tried very hard not to think about him.
Somewhere in this labyrinth of halls lurked a centuries-old vampire with the manners of a smug aristocrat and the sense of humor of a sadistic cat playing with wounded prey. A creature powerful enough to level armies who, for reasons known only to himself, seemed to derive genuine joy from psychologically tormenting anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Alucard.
You’d seen enough working for Hellsing to understand exactly what Alucard was capable of. Fear made sense around him. Terror made sense. Most people either froze up entirely or avoided eye contact like looking directly at him might somehow shorten their lifespan.
Meanwhile, your brain apparently coped with stress by becoming sarcastic. Not the useful kind of sarcasm, either. Not the sharp, controlled edge you could actually deploy in conversation when it mattered. This was more like your thoughts tripping over themselves and deciding, halfway through panic, that everything was mildly ridiculous.
Because that was definitely what your life had become- just an ongoing series of extremely normal events, like being chased, being yelled at, or watching reality quietly fall apart in the corner while nobody else seemed to notice.
It was a dangerous habit to have around an ancient predator.
Because every single interaction with him felt like balancing on the edge of a knife. Alucard would make some ominous comment about death or mutilation or the insignificance of humanity, and before your common sense could intervene, your mouth immediately wanted to respond with something deeply unwise like, “Wow, dramatic tonight, aren’t we?”
You hadn’t actually said anything that reckless.
Yet.
But there had already been close calls.
Unfortunately, Sir Integra Hellsing had specifically requested the files be delivered personally. Which would have been fine if Walter had not apparently vanished into the infinite labyrinth of the manor like some kind of impeccably dressed cryptid.
So now the responsibility had fallen to you.
You tightened your grip on the folders and continued down the corridor, your footsteps echoing softly against polished stone. The hall seemed even longer at night, stretched thin. Rainwater streaked the towering windows in crooked rivers, and every flash of lightning painted the manor bone-white for half a second before plunging it back into shadow.
Somewhere deeper in the estate, old pipes groaned.
Your footsteps slowed. Something felt…off.
Not dangerous,you’d worked for the Hellsing Organization long enough to understand the distinction. Danger was sharp and immediate, like a knife suddenly pressed against your throat. Danger made your instincts scream.
This wasn’t that.
This was presence.
The suffocating, unnatural awareness that something ancient had entered the room.
The atmosphere shifted with horrifying subtlety. The hallway seemed quieter now, the storm outside muffled as though the manor itself were holding its breath. The hairs along the back of your neck lifted. Even the air felt different- heavier somehow, thick enough that each inhale dragged slower into your lungs.
“Well,” a voice drawled from the darkness ahead, smooth as spilled wine, “you smell nervous.”
Tall enough to dominate the hallway without effort, red coat spilling around him like fresh blood across the dark. His tinted glasses caught the dim light in brief crimson flashes, hiding his eyes but somehow making his stare feel even heavier. Shadows curled around him unnaturally, shifting against the walls like living things reluctant to stray too far from their master.
Alucard smiled.
Well, you smell expensive and vaguely homicidal, but I was trying to be polite.
You stopped the thought before it could even think about becoming words. Your mouth pressed into a painfully tight line instead while your grip on the reports tightened hard enough to crinkle paper.
“Good evening,” you managed carefully.
His grin widened immediately, as though he could somehow sense the terrible decision your brain had almost made- and you had the deeply unsettling suspicion that he would find that funny.
“Oh, how professional.” He tilted his head. “You sound as though you’re trying not to scream.”
You opened your mouth with every intention of saying something measured. Respectful. Safe. Instead, what came out was:
“Well, you did appear out of the darkness like a haunted tax collector.”
The words hit the air and immediately your soul attempted to evacuate your body.
Your body went cold as your eyes widened a fraction.
No.
No, no, no.
Because this wasn’t some irritated coworker you’d accidentally mouthed off to.
This was Alucard.
You had seen what happened when he stopped pretending to be civilized.
You’d seen blood painted across concrete walls in sheets thick enough to drip. Seen bodies torn apart so violently they barely looked human afterward. Seen him walk through gunfire smiling, shadows and teeth and screaming things pouring out around him while enemy forces broke apart in pure animal panic. You still remembered the sound of it sometimes- bones snapping beneath impossible strength, hysterical shouting cut off mid-scream, the wet crack of something monstrous feeding in the dark.
You had watched hardened soldiers lose their nerve just because he looked at them.
And you- you had just compared him to a haunted tax collector.
A tiny, deeply horrified part of your brain briefly wondered if this was how you died. Not in some heroic firefight against ghouls or vampires, but because your survival instincts were apparently being held together with cheap tape and sarcasm.
The storm outside faded beneath the roaring of your pulse in your ears. Every instinct suddenly screamed at you to backpedal. Apologize. Maybe fake your own death and flee the country.
Alucard stared at you from beneath the shadow of his hat.
Then his grin slowly widened into something genuinely delighted.
“Oh,” he said softly, almost reverently, “there it is.”
You resisted the overwhelming urge to throw yourself directly out the nearest window.
“I-” You cleared your throat. “That wasn’t supposed to be out loud.”
“No?” His voice practically purred with amusement now. “And here I was beginning to think you disliked me.”
“Dislike is a strong word,” you said carefully.
Your brain immediately followed with: Actively intimidated by your commitment to theatrics? Absolutely.
You strangled the thought before it could escape and focused very hard on maintaining what you hoped resembled professional composure. Unfortunately, judging by the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, Alucard noticed that too.
His shoulders shifted with what looked dangerously close to silent laughter.
“Oh, this is delightful,” he murmured. “You keep stopping yourself.”
The pressure in the hallway felt almost physical now, thick with something ancient and predatory lurking just beneath his amusement. It would have been easier if he’d looked angry. Easier if he’d threatened you outright.
Instead, he looked entertained.
“I am exercising self-preservation,” you informed him.
“A shame.” He took another soundless step closer, crimson coat shifting around him like flowing blood. “I was enjoying the honesty.”
Your pulse kicked unpleasantly. He was close enough now that you could see the sharp edges of his grin beneath the shadow of his hat, close enough that the air carried the faint scent of gunpowder and old smoke clinging to him beneath the rain-damp stone of the manor.
And because your survival instincts had apparently abandoned their post entirely, another thought surfaced: You say that now, but eventually I’m going to say something that gets me dismembered.
Your mouth twitched.
Alucard noticed instantly.
“Oh?” he drawled. “What was that one?”
“Nothing.”
“Mm. Liar.”
The word rolled off his tongue lazily, almost affectionate in the worst possible way. You tightened your grip on the reports.
“With respect, I think maintaining plausible deniability is currently in both of our best interests.”
That actually made him laugh.
Not the low chuckle from before, a real laugh.
Warm, rich, openly amused, echoing through the corridor so unexpectedly that it sent a brief shiver down your spine.
Which was deeply unfair, honestly.
Because you had seen this man rip apart armed mercenaries without slowing his stride. You had watched shadows crawl across walls slick with blood while he smiled like the violence was art to him. There were still nights where certain sounds from missions came back to you in flashes- screaming, gunfire, the wet crack of something inhuman moving through a crowd too fast to follow.
That same creature was now standing in front of you looking genuinely entertained because your internal filter was failing catastrophically.
“You think I would kill you over an insult?” Alucard asked, still smiling.
“…I think,” you said slowly, choosing every word with extreme care, “that you are an ancient, absurdly powerful predator with a very specific sense of humor, and I genuinely cannot predict where your limits are.”
Alucard’s grin sharpened.
“But,” you added quickly, before your survival instincts could fail again, “I’m not actually trying to insult you.”
That seemed to catch his attention more than the sarcasm had. The amusement on his face softened into something more curious. You sighed quietly, shifting the reports under your arm.
“It’s just…” You grimaced faintly. “Stress response.”
“One involving mockery?”
“One involving poor decision-making.”
His laugh rumbled low in his chest again.
You pressed on before you lost your nerve. “I know what you are capable of.” Your voice came quieter now, more honest than you intended. “I’ve seen what happens during missions. I’ve seen what happens when you stop holding back.”
“And despite this,” Alucard mused, “you continue speaking to me as though we are two coworkers trapped in an inconvenient conversation.”
“That’s because if I fully process what you are,” you admitted, “I think my fight-or-flight response would permanently activate. And fleeing seems difficult when you keep appearing in hallways like a gothic sleep paralysis demon.”
The silence lasted exactly half a second before Alucard threw his head back and laughed. The sound filled the corridor, rich and genuinely delighted, echoing off the walls while lightning flashed behind him through the towering windows.
And somewhere beneath your lingering nerves and self-preserving horror, a small, deeply reluctant realization surfaced: he really did find this funny.
Rain hammered against the manor windows behind him, lightning briefly illuminating the sharp angles of his silhouette in stark white flashes. For an instant, he looked less like a man and more like something carved directly out of shadow and old blood. Then his gaze settled fully back onto you
“You restrain yourself too much,” he said at last.
“That sentence has never once led to a good outcome in human history.”
His smile twitched wider.
“There.” He pointed at you lazily with one gloved hand. “That.” His voice dropped into something warm with amusement. “Stop swallowing those thoughts before they reach your mouth.”
You stared at him like he’d lost what remained of his mind.
“With respect,” you said carefully, “that feels like a trap.”
“A trap?” He sounded almost offended.
“You are a centuries-old vampire who could kill me faster than my nervous system could process it.” You shifted the reports under your arm. “I feel like caution is reasonable.”
Alucard took another slow step closer. The shadows beneath his coat curled unnaturally across the floorboards, moving like living things around his boots. Up close, his presence felt enormous- not physically, but existentially. Like standing too near the edge of something ancient and bottomless.
“You have seen what humans sound like around me,” he murmured. “Fear. Worship. Empty obedience.” His grin sharpened faintly. “Boring things.”
The words rolled off his tongue with genuine disdain. Another flash of lightning lit the corridor, catching briefly on the crimson lenses hiding his eyes.
“You,” Alucard continued, “look at a monster and think sarcastic thoughts.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Immensely.”
At least he was honest.
The vampire leaned just slightly closer, enough that the pressure of his presence seemed to swallow the entire hallway around you.
“Come now,” he purred. “Say what you are thinking.”
idea: Seras befriends a eldritch horror (reader) cosplaying as a human and somehow matches Alucard's freak XDD
Uhghhhff took me longer than I wanted but I hope it was worth it :).
Word count; 1,139
Pronouns for reader switch from "It" to "you" roughly halfway through the text.
It wasn't surprising that sometimes the people who worked with the Hellsing organization made rather strange friends or allies, and in a weird way, Sir Integra and her loyal vampiric dog had already bet that Seras would make one. All her power and slowly accumulating wisdom wouldn't take away how overly friendly she is at times, both a strength and a liability depending on the situation. What they didn't expect was that her friend was a bit stranger than they thought—no stray werewolf, vampire that decided to assist rather than destroy, no sentient kelpie, or a devious leprechaun. No, something more out of this world that leaked into their earth through different means, licking and gnawing at the sanity of the people around it, disguising itself as something familiar, warm, and friendly, but knowledge and ancient vampiric instinct are hard to fool. So the moment this ‘person’ was being recommended by Seras to work here, Alucard already knew something was off while the instincts of Seras were still wrestling with the new presence.
He didn't have to meet it to sense it. It's scent was already woven into his fledgling's cold skin, deep, old, and older than he was; it reeked of ozone, burned wood, and rust. The power of it somehow was practically anchored in her without her full knowledge. He should have been enraged at the thought that something like this was so close to her, but he wasn't. Somthing deep inside of him told Alucard that the Draculina would be fine.
Instead, he felt a rush of excitement to face something so powerful,it practically crashed his nervous system like lightning. Teeth itching to take a bite and taste the flesh and blood on his tongue, to feel its skin rip, he wondered if it could heal too.
Of course, the polite eagerness to support the idea hadn't gone unnoticed by Integra. Her suspicion rose within the second she saw the little tug at the dead man's lips when h had a whiff of the smell, barely hiding a hungry smile.
What came after was a long and exhausting conversation. The bureaucrat didn't want to rush it. She knew from the looks her dog was giving that it would be dangerous, perhaps even uncontrollable, yet the chance to study it and have it under her thumb was a temptation she couldn't say no to. Another unstoppable force on her side, the question is, how can she tame such a beast?
Seras.
It took a laughably short time to notice that this being had no fucking idea how anything worked once it was in the giant building. Through all these seeing eyes that strethed itself on it's skin and shadow, somehow something as simple as a coffee machine confused it. It was a simple thing, too simple for that brain, or better said, it was like trying to rewire a mind that worked in riddles and complex hymns of a bygone era. You had to teach it that not everything whispered in old tongues. The life and rules it used to have dancing around it didn’t exist here, not fully that is; they were so vastly different that it was hard to grasp at first how straightforward things here were, relearning everything and anything through the friendly hands of the Draculina.
The sight of you fumbling around like a quiet idiot made Sir Integra halt her plans for you. Was it really worth it? How much time do you need to aculmolate yourself?
Putting so much time and effort into you while you seemed to struggle with the handling of a gun was more than a little frustraiting and for some reasone you refused to use your powers, for now.
"Patience."
Was all that swam in her head after another night of discussion with Alucard. His deep voice still murmured somewhere in the shadows as he kept his eyes on you. How eager he was to see you, the real you and not this fleshy suit you made; he could see in those deep and empty eyes of yours how aggravaiting it was moving around with stumpy legs instead of what you were used to.
Sometimes, he taunted you just to see how you would react, but he never really got anything besides the wind stilling and the air tasting like rotten meat as your pupils practically drilled holes in him. Sometimes the man still gets shudders from the feelings you gave him just from standing there like a statue, your expression off, movements too smooth, like there were no bones inside you,how everything around you warped just a bit.
Was it obsession?
Perhaps.
But he didn't care when he was still waiting for you to open yourself like a grotesque flower made out of muscle, tendons, and teeth that might just crush reality itself.
But right now he has to wait, watching silently as you train with Seras, and learn not to fall on your ass while climbing because your body is still a bit too unstable, the tissues wiggling like maggots under your fingertips when you forget to concentrate on your form.
Oh, each time he saw that squirming skin, he salivated , imagining what monster might hide underneath it. His obsession only got worse when he got a glimpse of your power, the very fabric of reality breaking when one of those rogue ghouls annoyed you too much, bodies shattering, bending and put together again, reassembling puzzle pieces that don’t match as their pained screams echoed in the cold, dark sky. The moon hid that night underneath thick stormy clouds, not wanting to witness the horror you create by just breathing a bit too hard in that meat suit. Everything felt like lighting was about to hit the earth, your annoyance mixing in with nature itself as your dead eyes stared at the ghouls that let out pained groans, muscles continuing to tear apart inch by inch by an unseen force.
And you could smell it, the excitement on Alucard's very being, claws begging to feel your flesh, the vampire's body dissolving slightly into dark shadows with too many eyes once he was done with his own kill, and in a way, it felt familiar. A whisper of home beckoning you to come closer. You both didn’t say a word that night, just watched each other with intensity that would make anyone piss themselves out of fear as your bodies twisted around in unnatural ways that almost resembled a dance of hunger and curiosity. A gross mockery of anything earthly and living, but for you both it was an invitation.
Since that night it seemed like his withering shadows were firmly clinging to your body, which every now and then opened itself for him, allowing the undead man to have a taste of the otherworldly.
can I kindly ask for a one-shot fic of Alucard [Hellsing Ultimate] x Shy Maid! Reader where Reader is a Maid for the Hellsing Organization who is constantly getting oogled and gawked at by the other workers, but protected by a heavily possessive Alucard?
She/her for reader if possible, thank you!
You tried to ignore it most of the time. The stares from the higher ups, the whispers that Integra had warned them about many times, every slick comment about your body that people thought was okay. All of it was extremely irritating to both you and Alucard. They were lucky he hadn't heard what they said from their own mouths and instead form you because they would have been murdered on the spot. As smart as the men thought they were, Alucard was one step ahead of them. Instead of Integra joining the meeting and having you by her side like usual it was Alucard this time. They all walked in together, like a swarm of teenage boys in a locker room. The way they were speaking about you was nothing short of "locker room talk". Lewd and disgusting it was. All while they knew you were sitting there. the chair was turned away from them so they hadn't noticed anything unusual. A bullet going right past the man in front's head made them and you freeze. No one had expected Alucard's sudden anger. If it could even be called that. "Now. We have business to discuss don't we? Let's stay on topic."
"Give me your list of enemies. I shall bring their heads on spikes as a marriage proposal."- Yandere Alucard.
"You... Uh, you certainly don't need to do this." you blinked, trying to rationalize in which situation something like this could count as a marriage gift.
Was it a vampire custom, maybe? A very bloody custom, then, you thought as you could feel your face twisting into a grimace.
You didn't move at first, still trying to process everything as you pretend that his words didn't hit you like a physical blow. And, as the initial shock fades after a long, pregnant silent, something else rises up to take its place. Not fear, not horror, but a deep, aching sadness for him.
You look at Alucard, really look at him. At the ancient loneliness in his crimson eyes, hidden behind a mask of confident menace and the danger you grew to love. At the way he stands, poised for a reaction, ready to be rejected or feared or fought. At the offering he's made, not a ring, not a poem, not a declaration of love, but death. Because that's all he knows how to give.
"Oh, honey," you whisper. "Oh, my love..."
You sigh, a soft, shaky exhale. Then, slowly, you reach out and gently take his hand, same one that is still with his fingers in the trigger of his guns. You feel the coolness of his skin, the impossible strength in his fingers.
And you hold on.
Alucard stiffens. No one calls him 'honey.' No one touches him like this, like he's something precious, not something to be feared. He's not used to that, and maybe that's why his dead heart starts beating only for you.
"You've been alone for so long," you continue, your voice thick with understanding as your hand went to his face, thumb caressing his cheek with a gentle touch. "So long that you've forgotten how humans show love. You've forgotten that we don't prove our devotion with terror and trophies."
You lift his hand and press it gently against your own chest, letting him feel the steady, living beat of your heart. "This," you say softly. "This is what you're supposed to offer. Not their hearts. Mine. And you already have it. You've had it for a while now, you dramatic vampire king."
You look up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "The proposal I want involves you. And me. And maybe a quiet night in with terrible movies and takeout food for me. It involves you drinking my blood and maybe a quickie or two. It involves building something together that isn't built on graves."
You squeeze his hand hard enough for him to let go of his weapons. They fall to the floor and you both ignore them, as you can feel entirely his hands on yours now. "You don't need to bring me death. You just need to be here. That's all I've ever wanted."
Alucard stares down at you, and for the first time in centuries, something in his chest ache, a feeling so unfamiliar he almost doesn't recognize it.
You smile, soft and warm. "The heads are a hard no no, though. Just so we're clear."
Hope.
Love blooming in his chest.
Happiness.
He feel lightheaded.
A tear, red-tinged, slips down Alucard's cheek. He doesn't wipe it away. He isn't ashamed.
Hello! 😭 Your blog is always so pretty. I am back after a while, and it changed again. I remember when it was Ciel, and illumi. I am going to admit that it was what ispired me to change mine! Thank you for that! Happy new years! Could you please write yandere alucard- worst punishment to reader ? What would motivate it? I cravee angst and that man <33 uggh is unhealthy and a second request, could you write smut (riding if you are comfortable) Alucard in his final form? That armor speaks to me. I swear.
(Só vim notar agora que você é do brasil tbm. Mds do céu, kkkkk. BORAA BRASILL 🇧🇷🗣 Você tá no topo da minha lista de escritores favoritas e eu tolinha escrevendo em inglês.)
.｡*♡ﾟ a/n: ah, I fear my blog changes alongside my mood and what I'm personally invested rn lol. Though, I always come back to RookVil or Sebastian, or Chrollo bcs they're my favorites ♡ (fico feliz em saber isso, bebê! ^^
.｡*♡ﾟ tagging: @mlop5iop
.｡*♡ﾟ The worst punishment Alucard could ever inflict is: silence treatment. He's used to hearing the screams of fear, to seeing the fight in the eyes of those whom he kills. Movement is everywhere, in the need for running, in dodging his attacks, life is everywhere, from an ant on the ground to the tallest tree planted in the park. And ever since Alucard took you under his wings, and made you share a room with him, as he was now your "lover", he had done nothing but be understanding. Alucard knows he is a monster, a being forgotten by God, and that he is scary to people.
.｡*♡ﾟHe planned what he would do every time you fought, screamed and ran away, but he hadn't planned for how his supposedly dead heart would feel as he watched you recoil and flinch every time he was nearby. How you cursed his name, how you promised to hate him this life and the next, and all the others. So he takes a step back, and lets you be, completely isolated in his dark, empty room. In silence. He does not speak as he turned around and went away, locking you in there with nothing but his lukewarm coffin.
.｡*♡ﾟ The silence is deafening. It does not help that his room is isolated from the other areas, so nobody can hear you screaming for help as you bang on the door. Most people are too used to escapism nowadays, so leaving you there without a distraction, without water or food, alone and in the silence is the better thing Alucard can do for both of you. He's still being caring, for he knows he would go too far if he did something with his own hands to fix your attitude. Yet, he can also use his power if the situation asks for it.
.｡*♡ﾟ The thing with this method is that he wants you anxious and trembling, as you try to guess each thing that's about to happen. And while you torture yourself with your worst scenarios, playing them each more graphic than the other, pacing the room as you kicks his casket and cursed him and the entire world, Alucard watches over you from the shadows, unmoving, not blinking, letting you waste your energy and mental strength like that, so there's no resistance in you when he comes back much later to collect you in his arms.
Could you do headcanons for Alucard with a Vampire darling? And possibly could the darling have a 60’s aesthetic?
Thanks a mil! No worries if you’re unable to!
- @cinderellaarchives
.｡*♡ﾟ While his style had never changed over the years, you, his lover, were keen on changing your entire wardrobe whenever a new trend came out - you had experienced it all over the years. In a world of modern monotony, you are a splash of vibrant color and classic cool. He finds your aesthetic deeply charming. The sharp, geometric cuts of a mod dress, the flowery patterns of a hippie maxi skirt, or the sleek leather of a rocker jacket are all a refreshing change from the Victorian gothic he often embodies and the blandness of the 21st century.
.｡*♡ﾟ His pet names for you are heavily influenced by your style. He’ll call you his "mod minx," his "psychedelic siren," his "beatnik beauty." He loves to run his fingers through your hair, whether it's a sleek Sassoon bob, long hippie waves, or a big teased bouffant, marveling at the texture and the hairspray.
.｡*♡ﾟ Should a mission require you to fight alongside him, the contrast is jarring for any foe. The world dissolves into his familiar hellscape of gore and familiar eyes, of red cape and bloody hands. And there you are in the midst of it all, a vision in go-go boots and a shift dress, dispensing violence with a serene smile and a catchy song. The way you can maintain your impeccable style and grace while unleashing your vampiric power is, to him, the highest form of art.
.｡*♡ﾟ Your methods to hunt and kill are as different as your styles. Alucard is a force of biblical terror, a tsunami of shadow and blood. You, however, hunt with a sleek, cool efficiency that matches your aesthetic. You might use glamour and hypnotic suggestions, luring prey with a smile and a period-accurate pick-up line before a swift, clean kill. He would watch from the shadows, utterly captivated by your technique.
.｡*♡ﾟ He will love to hear you sing your favorite little songs or for you to explain the fashion, and why you like it so much. Man is whipped, even if he won't admit, but everyone knows it because his eyes shine when he looks at you, as if you had hanged the stars in the sky yourself. As if you were his God and only savior.
Mentions of: Typical reference of predator - prey relationship, reference to Alucards past and his gluttony, otherwise rather fluffy
Minors please do not interact! Reader is ofc 18+
Content
Reader is working at the Hellsing manor as a housekeeper
Story is set before the happenings of Hellsing - Still Spoilers ahead
Reader is gender neutral, no pronouns are used but "you"
Age, ethnicity, height, weight and any other physical attributes are never mentioned. You are free and encouraged to imagine yourself or an OC in this scenario.
Summary
Alucard joins you in your room. very fluffy. cuddles and affections included, many petnames and Alucards typical teasing
Index
Previous Chapter: Chapter 7 "Forget Me Nots"
Next Chapter: Work In Progress
Tag-List
(Just ask me if you want to be tagged, I will gladly do so)
It was one of those days. Tired and drained you were doing your work. Sure, the pay was excellent and living in this old manor was a beauty in itself. However, even a pleasant work had those days where one only wanted to rest and not do anything. Especially when most of your coworkers avoided you because of the company you kept.
Ever since Alucard spent so much time with you, he has proceeded to scare everyone else. Not intentionally, he would always claim but he did look at certain people as though he wished to devour them entirely. Especially those who were once closer to you than everyone else. He did not like the way they looked at you or gave you way too many birthday gifts. It was not in his nature to share. Claimed the man who had three wives at one point, but alas, he was a hypocrite.
And very much aware of his nature. Which changed nothing about the fact that he wanted you. The night you had fallen asleep atop of him had been your final sentence. A decision long in the making but not twice considered. What a sleepy little thing you were today. Barely capable of holding the broom as you brushed dust out of the door.
He had been watching for a while now. Sometimes the shadows around you would flicker. Either you did not notice it or became so used to him that you no longer acknowledged it as any potential threat. What perfect prey you were.
Good thing he had the leash around his neck, or he could not promise not to harm you. it had happened too often in his past, when the blood of someone was too delicious to stop. He still wanted a sip of you, of course. The few droplets of blood he had received from you this far were but acting as an appetizer. Besides… there was also something else he wanted to taste of you..
A startled noise escaped your lips when he appeared in the corner of your eye. "Alucard! I told you to not scare me like this!" You huffed, and in response, he chuckled. This bond between you both had developed steadily and comfortably. Now he arched over you, so his face was way too close to yours. However, at this point, you were used to him being so close to you all the time. Especially when he held you again after a particular rough nightmare. Or honestly, sometimes he was close to you just because.
"Are you enjoying yourself, little bird? Personally, I could imagine much more intriguing things than dusting.." His gaze drifted to the open door leading to the garden. Always so orderly and meticulously kept. He cared little for flowers, unless they were meant as a gift to you.
"You know, some people require actually working in this house." Your cheeky retort made him snicker. While raising to his fulheight he put his hand on the top of your head. "What a pity that it has to be you, little one." Your cheeks grew warmer, and he bared his teeth in a malicious grin. They were not sharp. Mind you, he played with his appearance like he played with the other servants.
"You could make yourself useful. Help me dust..or wash the clothes.." Before you could continue to elaborate on all the boring human tasks you wanted him to do, he suddenly knelt in front of you. Perhaps it was this action that made you hesitate, or the intense gaze. Regardless, when you fell silent, he grasped your chin with his long fingers. "And what would you offer as payment for my services, little lamb?"
Your pupils grew in size, and your lips parted, but no words came out. How adorable. "A kiss, perhaps?"
With half-lidded eyes, he stared at what he clearly wanted from you. Slowly, he leaned in closer, his cold breath fanning over your lower face. ""Yes…?" A vampire always waited for an invitation, and the little nod you offered him was more than enough. He leaned in close and tilted his head to the side. His lips brushed against yours before he sealed the kiss.
Swiftly, his hands joined in the pleasure. One large hand came to cradle your cheek while the other one slid to your waist. He pulled you closer without hesitation, allowing you to melt into his embrace if so desired. It was not a short, sweet kiss like some people may dream it to be. Instead, it was him kissing you until the air was almost gone out of your lungs.
You had to practically push him to get him off you, which only earned you a deep chuckle from the vampire. "Fragile little thing.." He mused while stroking his thumb over your lips. "Very well, I shall indulge my little tyrant and work for free. As though he had not just paid himself by kissing you like this.
Slowly, he stood again to his full, intimidating size before he faded with a silent cackle. Seeing you so flustered and shy was something he could get used to. Even if it meant doing some work he had not participated in since a very, very long time.
