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!😭😭
synopsis ⠀⨟⠀your obsessed lover.
cw ⠀⨟⠀ obsessive themes, possession, stalking implications, religious themes.
a/n ⠀⨟⠀ was v excited to do this! i’m so happy you requested this friend 🫶
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, he’d pause—just 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 you—even 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 Seras—but with you, he did. You were the exception he didn’t expect.
He didn’t make his infatuation obvious. He knew better than that—he wouldn’t 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 him—not just as a powerful vampire or a weapon, but as someone who, in his own way, seemed to care. And though he didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 doesn’t 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 doesn’t just desire them—he 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. He’d show up out of nowhere with some quiet comment, or he’d stand behind you with that calm, unreadable expression that somehow made you relax. But it didn’t stay comforting for long. It changed—slowly, subtly—into something that felt almost heavy. Something that pressed down on your lungs whenever you realized you hadn’t gone a full hour without sensing him nearby.
Even when he wasn’t physically beside you, you felt him. A weight at your back, a chill along your neck, a prickling awareness that he was watching. Sometimes you’d catch the faintest flicker of red in the corner of your vision, gone when you turned your head. He liked doing that—letting you know without actually saying anything. A reminder that you weren’t alone. That he wouldn’t 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 overwhelmed—he 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, he’d appear right as you grabbed your coat and mention some “urgent” matter Integra needed handled—only for you to find out later she had no idea what he was talking about.
If he didn’t want you talking to a particular person, he’d say something offhanded, like, “Be careful with them,” 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 didn’t have to. The way he looked at you told the whole story.
And despite everything, there were moments where he’d soften. Completely. Like when he’d brush his thumb over your cheekbone after a long mission, or when he’d stand behind you and absently tuck your hair back just so he could see your face better. Those moments weren’t gentle because he was trying to comfort you—they 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 part—the part you could never quite get away from—was how he made himself essential. He’d 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, he’d smile, slow and satisfied, like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.
Alucard’s obsession wasn’t loud or dramatic… it was creeping, inevitable. Overwhelming in a way that made your chest tighten. He didn’t just want to love you. He wanted to surround you, shape you, fold himself into every corner of your life until you couldn’t imagine a world without him.
That was what terrified you. And what kept you close.
Anderson’s obsession didn’t start with a desire—it 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t fooling anyone—not 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 wasn’t subtle, not as much as he believed to be. He didn’t 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 didn’t care if he made people uncomfortable. He wasn’t here to make them comfortable.
His protectiveness became a cage before you realized it. He’d tell you when a mission was “too dangerous,” even if you’d been assigned to it. He’d show up uninvited, insisting it was unsafe for you to walk alone. He’d 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 didn’t realize how deeply he’d 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 weren’t listening. He claimed it was guidance. It felt more like ownership.
But then there were the soft moments—the ones that made everything more confusing. How he’d 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 he’d look at you—not with lust, but with something far more suffocating… devotion.
A devotion that could burn.
Anderson didn’t love like a man. He loved like a crusade. Like a mission he couldn’t 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 wouldn’t let up. Something holy and terrifying all at once. He wouldn’t let harm touch you. He wouldn’t let sin touch you. He wouldn’t let anyone touch you. And if anyone tried? Well… Alexander Anderson never hesitated when it came to cleansing evil. Even if that “evil” was simply someone standing too close to you.
