#clopin trouillefou x reader

[triasticalwarlock]

WHY IS THIS MAN SO SEXY *sob*

[knoepfl]

~The Devil's Jester~

Characters: Clopin Trouillefou, Reader (Evil Jester), Judge Claude Frollo 

Trigger Warnings: Emotional manipulation, distrust, morally gray dynamics. 

Masterlist

Summary:

As Topsy Turvy Day unfolds, Reader—Frollo’s obedient and enigmatic jester—meets Clopin Trouillefou. Suspicion, intrigue, and dangerous sparks fly between the two, leaving Reader questioning her role as Frollo’s most loyal pawn. 

Words: 1157

---

The raucous streets of Paris were a blur of color, music, and laughter, a stark contrast to the weight you carried under your jester’s motley. Bells jingled with every step you took, not to signal merriment but to warn others of your presence. Everyone knew what you were—Judge Frollo’s jester, bound to his will, more an agent of order than joy. 

Your painted smile betrayed none of the wariness you felt as you moved through the festival. The scent of roasting meat and spiced wine filled the air, and the drunken crowd danced around you like waves crashing on a shore. But amidst the noise and laughter, whispers followed wherever you went. You heard the murmurs:  “There goes Frollo’s little puppet.”  “Watch her. She’s trouble.” 

You ignored them, as you always did. You weren’t here for fun; you were here because Frollo commanded it. His orders were simple—watch the festivities, observe the gypsies, and report back. But simple tasks had a way of becoming complicated, especially during Topsy Turvy Day. 

Your gaze drifted toward the center of the square, where performers juggled fire and acrobats flipped through the air. And there, among the swirling chaos, stood the man you were supposed to be watching: Clopin Trouillefou. 

He was unmistakable, his vibrant costume as loud as his laughter, a mask perched jauntily over his face. He conducted the festivities as if he were both king and court fool, his voice carrying over the crowd with ease. For a moment, you forgot yourself, mesmerized by the way he moved, the way he commanded attention without effort. 

He saw you before you could slip back into the crowd. His sharp gaze locked onto yours, and a grin spread across his face—a grin that was both charming and dangerous. He made his way toward you with the easy grace of someone who feared nothing. 

“Well, well,” he said, stopping just close enough that you could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath. “Look who decided to join the festivities. Frollo’s jester, out of her cage. Tell me, little puppet, are you here to dance, or are you here to spy?”

You tilted your head, letting your painted smile stretch a little wider. “Can’t I do both?” 

Clopin’s laugh was warm, but there was something sharp beneath it, like a knife hidden in silk. “Ah, a multitasker. How delightful.” He leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Tell me, does Frollo know you’re here? Or are you out causing trouble on your own?”

Your heart quickened—not from fear, but from the strange thrill of being seen, truly seen, by someone like Clopin. No one ever looked at you like that, not even Frollo. To him, you were a tool, a weapon to be used and discarded. But Clopin’s gaze was different. It was playful, yes, but also curious, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle only he could see.

“I don’t cause trouble,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. “I follow orders.”

Clopin’s grin faltered for just a moment, replaced by something like pity. “And what a dull life that must be,” he murmured. 

For a moment, you considered telling him the truth—that your life wasn’t dull, but safe. Frollo’s commands gave you structure, purpose. Without them, you were... lost. But you didn’t say any of that. Instead, you shrugged, the bells on your costume jingling with the movement. “It’s not so bad.”

Clopin studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face as if trying to peel back the layers of paint and pretense. “You’re lying,” he said, not unkindly. “But that’s all right. We all lie to ourselves, now and then.”

Before you could respond, he reached out and tapped the tip of your nose with a gloved finger, the gesture light and playful. “Come, little jester. Let’s see if we can teach you how to dance.”

He spun away, beckoning you to follow, and without thinking, you did. The crowd closed in around you as Clopin led you through the festival, weaving between dancers and acrobats with practiced ease. He twirled you once, twice, and though you stumbled, he caught you with a laugh that felt like sunshine breaking through a storm.

For the first time in years, you let yourself laugh too—really laugh, not the forced, hollow sound Frollo demanded. It was strange and exhilarating, like taking a breath after being underwater for too long.

“See?” Clopin said, his grin wide and infectious. “Not so bad, is it?”

You shook your head, breathless. “No... it’s not.”

The night wore on, and the festival became a blur of music and color. You danced with Clopin until your feet ached, forgetting, for a little while, who you were and what you were supposed to be. But as the bells of Notre Dame tolled midnight, reality crept back in, cold and unforgiving.

Clopin seemed to sense the shift in you. His expression sobered, though his eyes still sparkled with mischief. “So, what will it be, little jester?” he asked quietly. “Will you run back to your master and tell him everything? Or will you stay and dance with us?”

It was a simple question, but the answer felt impossible. You wanted to stay—God, how you wanted to. But you knew that staying meant more than just dancing. It meant defying Frollo, breaking free of the chains he had wrapped around your soul. 

“I can’t,” you whispered, the words tasting like ash on your tongue. 

Clopin’s gaze softened, and for the first time, his smile was sad. “There’s always a choice,” he said gently. “You just have to be brave enough to make it.”

You wanted to believe him. But the weight of Frollo’s control was too heavy, and the fear of what would happen if you disobeyed too great. You shook your head, stepping back, the bells on your costume jingling softly in the night air.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. 

Clopin gave you a long, searching look, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then he smiled—a quiet, understanding smile that made your heart ache. “Maybe next time,” he said softly.

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing alone in the square as the festival began to fade.

You watched him go, a strange mix of regret and longing swirling in your chest. You knew you would return to Frollo, just as you always did. But for the first time, the thought of obeying him felt like a prison sentence.

As you made your way back to Frollo’s chambers, the bells of Notre Dame tolled once more, their somber notes echoing through the empty streets. And with every step you took, Clopin’s words followed you, haunting you like a whisper in the dark.

There’s always a choice. You just have to be brave enough to take it.

---

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! If you have feedback, want a second part or requests for future fanfics, feel free to tell me!

[maluustrawberry]

Undesirable encounter

(Claude Frollo X Female reader)

Synopsis: You were the new seamstress in Paris and Frollo suspects that you were harboring Romani in your shop. It looks like your first start was more tense than you expected...

A/n: I confess that I am in love with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and I especially love the book. I hope you readers like it, and if you want to give me tips I accept (you can correct me too) If you want other Disney characters, you can ask me💕.

Part.2 (Final)

(Guys, I don't know if you know, but the word "gypsy" is a slur and should not be used, the correct one is "Roma" Or "Romani people" I put "Gypsy" only in Frollo's lines since you know the type of person he is.)

It was just another ordinary day in Paris, you had arrived in the city a few months ago and worked as a dressmaker. You immediately became known for the beautiful dresses you produced for the girls and the beautiful clothes for the boys too. You had an excellent aesthetic sense.

But what you had in the way of talent, you also had in the way of kindness. When you heard about the persecution of the Romani people, you felt touched by the situation and decided to help them. It was very risky, but you weren't going to stand by and let it happen like the other citizens of Paris were doing, letting themselves be manipulated by Frollo and his hate speeches. There was a basement in your house that you used to store fabric and sewing materials. You took advantage of that room to help some Romani hide in case of emergency if they were being chased by the guards and if there was no time to run to the court of miracles.

And so it went on, you were extremely careful not to leave any traces, until one day or another these "rumors" ended up reaching the judge.

You were sewing up the sleeves of a client's dress, which had been placed in the moulage to make it easier for you to work, and your attention now turned to the bell that rang as soon as the door was opened. Immediately, the atmosphere of the place changed when you saw who had entered. You knew those clothes, the face worn by age and you couldn't forget that look of superiority and pride, because himself thought he was important and better than everyone because of his opposition and faith. Looking behind those glass windows, you could also see some of his men at the front of the store:

“Bonjour, madame.” Frollo said sternly, snapping you out of your thoughts. That thick, authoritative voice gave you the creeps. “I'd like to know who owns this establishment. Your husband is here?”

“A-Ah! Good morning...” You forced a smile and stuck the needle into the moulage so you wouldn't lose it. “Your Honor, I'm the owner, and no, I don't have a husband.”

As you said this, the judge looked you up and down with contempt. Of course, in the 16th century, a young woman like you not being married was a disgrace to society, and on top of that, being able to read and owning your own business was even worse. You weren't tense or nervous with him in your store, on the contrary, you were so calm... After all, you cleaned out the basement and removed any evidence as soon as a family of Romani's moved out recently:

“I've received information that you've been harboring gypsies in your house and I'm here to find out the facts, have you been harboring gypsies?” He got straight to the point.

“No, sir.” You pretended to be as honest as possible, fortunately you were good at lying.

“You know that if you lie, the sentence for insubordination is death...” He moved closer in an attempt to intimidate her.

“My conscience is clear. You have permission to investigate my store, since my words don't apply to you.”

“If I wasn't allowed to, seamstress, I'd still make a point of searching this place from top to bottom, whether you agree or not.”

The older man signaled for some of his men to enter the store before you could protest or complain. Since you were the only one who seemed to have enough courage to go against the judge's ideas when you were right. They went in and started rummaging around for clues, looking everywhere, even under the skirts of the dresses on the mannequins.

Frollo looked you up and down in an nothing unobtrusive way, you didn't notice the glances, but as soon as you did, it gave you the creeps and you avoided looking back at him. He had never noticed you in the city before and he noticed your accent, deducing that you might be a foreigner. The judge couldn't take his eyes off you, you were a very beautiful woman and seemed so delicate, and it seems that some feeling awakened in him when he saw that you were without gloves and your dress showed your shoulders. He came out of his thoughts when a guard approached:

"Sir, we've looked everywhere and found nothing..." Being a clever woman, an idea came to your mind: perhaps it would be better if they looked at everything to leave you alone.

"Have you looked in my basement, gentlemen?" you asked, kicking the rug that hid the small door in the wooden floor of your store.

Frollo was suspicious, but sent his men in to search every corner of the small cellar. Fortunately, they didn't find anything either, just sewing materials and expensive fabrics. After looking around in vain, the men left the store, leaving you and the judge alone:

“I apologize for this inconvenience.” He said as you went to the moulage to finish the dress.

“You shouldn't believe every rumor out there, Your Honor, not all of them can be true.” You said politely. “but apologies accepted, I know it was for the good of Paris and you care a lot about the city.”

Returning to work, you thought he would leave after all that had happened and notice you "busy" sewing, but no, he stayed in the store while walking slowly around analyzing his surroundings:

“This basement...” He pointed to the carpet above the small door. “Why was it hidden?”

“I don't see the need to show everyone that I have a basement here.” You replied nonchalantly. “and besides, I think that old door would spoil the pretty look of my store.”

Frollo didn't seem to believe in that very much, but you shrugged and continued sewing. There were a few seconds of silence, you could only hear his footsteps coming towards you and could feel that man's gaze on you all the time, causing you a certain nervousness or fear. What did he want anyway?

“Do you want anything else?” you asked in an attempt to break the silence and take your mind off the discomfort of feeling his gaze on you, stopping your sewing and looking at him now.

“I just want you to know.” He said, standing close and looking at her with disgust. “I'll keep an eye on you, I won't trust a literate, single woman so easily... I know women of your kind.”

“I don't think who I am or what I do has anything to do with helping... Ouch!” You interrupted yourself with pain when you felt the needle pierce your finger. It was normal for this to happen when were working with sewing, but it had never been this deep, Maybe it happened because of the anger you was feeling at that moment.

Immediately you dropped the needle out of sheer instinct, and in a quick and daring moment Frollo grabbed your hand with a certain amount of force, bringing it in front of his face, which had a small smile of satisfaction on it. The judge was a sadomasochist, he enjoyed seeing someone in pain, especially when it was someone he thought deserved such a punishment. You were shocked by his attitude, you weren't expecting it and didn't know how to react. What was he doing? Frollo continued to hold your hand, watching the small drop of blood ooze from your pricked finger, but his attention wasn't just there, it was on your fingers, your soft skin and the sensation it brought when you touched it with the contact of the warm hand and his, which was a little cold:

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a bit of hatred for such a vulgar and daring attitude, and he laughed a little.

“What would the church think of a woman exposing her bare hands in front of a high-ranking man like me?” You had no reaction for fear. Gradually his fingers entwined in yours and you saw that his eyes went to your small cleavage and your bare shoulders. “And it's not just your hands that are exposed...”

You quickly pulled your hand free and he looked at you incredulously:

“My hands are only exposed because I can't wear gloves when I sew, and you still don't have the right to do that. It's in the Bible; If your eye or your hand causes you to sin, throw it away!” A small smile came to Frollo's face when he heard that.

“So bold... It's typical of women like you to turn away from guilt in order to confuse men's minds with pagan thoughts, but that doesn't matter any more...”

He walked away, heading for the door to leave, but first his attention turned to you:

“It was a nice chat, seamstress... I want you to make me a cloak and sew me a pair of gloves, I'll be expecting you to deliver them tomorrow night.”

After saying that, he left, leaving you with no reaction to what had just happened. You were angry, but at the same time relieved that he hadn't found out. As soon as he left, you stared at your hand, which he touched and intertwined with his large, thin fingers. You'd have to be more careful now, he'd be stalking you and the reason wouldn't just be because he suspected you of helping the Romani people, it would be because of something else and you know exactly what it was and what his intentions were...

End...

[illustrationist-of-the-stars]

Casually gonna drop my old revamped Twst Oc's here if you all don't mind :]

Alt version without lighting:

Yumemi is an oc/reader insert of the old Twst x Madoka Magica crossover fanfic I did of a Magical Girl Yuu which I mentioned in a post somewhere before and it was fun but sort of stopped writing and updating for it for a while due to burn out and other things keeping me occupied at the time rip

Yumemi is also a twisted version of Clopin Trouillefou from The Hunchback of Notredame if you squint a bit ^_^

Yumemi - Twisted Clopin 🃏

Rampion Flowers - Twisted Rapunzel 🏵 (specifically from the Tangled the Adventure series because I was obsessed with it when I was a kid)

[ssadumba55]

I don't know if the requests are open and I don't know if you write for this character,but here I go...

Clopin trouillefou x reader please?

clopin is the king of gypsies who appears in "the hunchback of notre dame" (this is never mentioned in the movie but it is in the novel)

Unfortunately, for personal reasons, I cannot fulfill this request. I am a huge fan of this movie however it goes against my morals and what i stand for here to write anything using words that might offend people and as the g slur towards Romani culture is gaining more light recently, I cannot in good conscious put this on my blog. 

Sorry!

[headoverhiddles]

So I saw you reblogged a couple Clopin Trouillefou posts a while ago and like... would you ever consider helpin a 90s kid out and doing a Clopin x reader? 👀

gLORY BE hallelujah! You’re awesome for asking me to do this btw, I’m glad I’m not the only one who found that lil gypsy mofo sexy. 

Read this on my ao3 here! 

[triasticalwarlock]

The hunchback of Notre Dame memes

Not related to any fics, just random

.....can you tell which character is my favorite

[triasticalwarlock]

Cant believe I'm going from this-

To this-

It's to late for me honestly

[triasticalwarlock]

Since there literally is zero shit for clopin on here, I'm going to be writing some yandere Headcanons for him. Estimating for it to be out in a few days :)

[triasticalwarlock]

I lied, the yandere clopin Headcanons will probably come out next week

[triasticalwarlock]

This is a yandere blog (mainly) I can do this

[maluustrawberry]

Hey did you finish Undesirable Encounter Part 2 Ty 🥰🥰

Undesirable encounter

Part.2 (Claude Frollo X Reader)

A/N: Hi dear, sorry for the delay, I said I would do it hehehe. I wanted to thank you readers for your support and I didn't expect the first part to get so many views (I'm surprised, almost 500 notes) and a lot of people asked me for the sequel so I do. I did it with my best friend @thefanofnotredame, I hope you like it❤️. {If you haven't seen part one, it's here}

°•°•°•°•°°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was morning, around 8 or 9 o'clock. You were already awake, but in your room. It was hard to stop thinking about the judge's fateful and unwelcome appearance in your store. As you sat in front of the window in a wooden chair, you sipped a hot drink in front of the only light in your room, which was white and dramatic, melancholy.

What made you think even more about the whole situation was the fact that tonight you were supposed to go to the palace of justice and deliver the damn cloak and pair of gloves to Frollo in person. The whole thing was uncomfortable, almost dark. Just thinking about that man's touch on your hands again... Argh! How horrible. But at the same time, there was something very... peculiar about the look in his eyes from before. That look that touched you - almost literally - with all that malice; it was almost a trap for something that, suddenly, in front of your bedroom window, began to attract you very much, almost like hypnosis.

Realizing that you were already too absorbed in your own thoughts and near delusions, you quickly shook your head and left the window, heading for your closet so you could change your clothes.

At the same time as this was happening, on the other side of town, the judge was in his palace of justice and completely isolated in his office. No guards entered or left where he was. He walked from side to side, looking like he was going to go mad at any moment. He wasn't even wearing his judge's clothes, just a baggy white shirt with brown pants, which stuck to his legs, and black shoes.

The judge seemed troubled by something he couldn't solve. A legal case? Criminals and murderers going wild in the streets of La Cité? No, it was something else. It was a person who kept him awake.

After meeting that seamstress for the first time, he couldn't stop seeing her in his dreams, his morning thoughts or even his everyday actions. He felt that she was following him in everything he did.

How? How could a woman of such a low class, compared to his own, bewitch the man of God? He looked out of the window at the grayish-white light and wondered: How could he, the judge who had humiliated her, look her in the eye again? Was he the one who was being embarrassing or was he the one getting embarrassed by the way the young woman looked? Everything - all those questions drove him crazy. He wanted to isolate himself from all these thoughts, because he knew that God could easily hear them at any time.

Frollo really had to do something about all those feelings. He couldn't get rid of them, either by shouting at the guards or by making a cruel judgment on some criminal. "God, what has this woman done to me?" the man asked himself, distressed and sitting down in the chair in front of his desk in his elegant office.

Suddenly, someone knocked on his door.

“Come in.” The judge answered, giving the person permission to enter his office, putting his arms on the table and placing a hand on his forehead, almost rolling his eyes with hatred.

One of his guards poked his head into the office, spying on the judge for a few seconds and then entering the office completely, closing the door behind him. The guard looked nervous, worried, but maybe it was just the way this place and the judge made him feel:

“Speak up. What happened?” Frollo asked, looking at the guard.

“Sir, we've already dealt with the problem.”

“What problem?” He asked, distracted and staring at the table with old paperwork and a pot of ink with an exaggeratedly large black quill.

“The problem, sir. With that bandit from a few days ago. He confessed that he stole a lot more than we thought, can you believe it? Jewelry, shoes.”

“Yes, and?” He lifted a sheet of paper from the pile, looking at some words. With that answer, the guard was startled.

“...what do you mean, sir?” The guard asked, almost in shock. “We've been trying to get a word out of this thug for days! He's so strong.”

“Are you finished?”

When the judge cut off the guard's speech in such a rude way, he raised his head at him with a very annoyed expression, as if he hadn't wanted to hear a word the young man had said:

“I don't care about this guy anymore. He's given us enough trouble. Throw him with those rabble of prisoners, tramps and criminals! Let's have a trial with him another day.” Rolling his eyes at the papers again, he pulled out one of the sheets and read it. He showed no real interest on it, not a single one, and the guard realized this quickly, frowning downwards.

“Sir, is something wrong?”

“Hm?” He moved his head to look at the guard, totally inattentive and with his mind on something else.

“You seem... I don't know... discouraged? We were too focused on the bandit issue.”

“I just lost interest, I have more important things to worry about.” The judge replied dryly and sighed. “I'll be receiving a seamstress tonight at the palace of justice, stay tuned and let me know if she arrives.”

“Oh, yes, the seamstress... as far as she's concerned, we didn't hear from her this morning. So, just to be on the safe side, we'll check on her later, since the delivery won't be until the evening. What do you think, sir?”

In the blink of an eye, the judge raised his head to look at the guard, almost as fast as a drop. He widened his eyes and almost let his mouth open wider than it should have, just for finally being able to talk about that subject that had only been stuck in his head and that was finally hanging over their conversation. "Oh, what a relief!", thought the older man to himself:

“I think it's very good, lieutenant.” He said, already with a slightly shrewd and debauched expression, arranging his arms on the table and placing an elbow against the surface near the papers, putting a hand under his chin, holding his head. “Well, you remember that she was suspected of helping and harboring those gypsies, don't you?”

“Yes, sir…”

“When you go there, keep an eye out if you happen to see any gypsies in that store. Make sure she's actually doing something good, because I don't want her to cheat me, or even try to.”

“But why would a mere seamstress have bad intentions towards you?”

Suddenly, Frollo cast a very threatening glance at the guard, slowly getting up from his chair and resting his hands on the table:

“You're not thinking of denying my order, are you?”

“B-But, sir, I…”

“Are you?”

The guard, his eyes wide with fear, began to stutter and placed part of his hand against his forehead, making a sign of obedience to an order:

“I'm not, sir!” He spoke, almost fearing for his life and looking up so as not to have his soul ripped out by his eyes.

“Good…” The judge sat down as if it were nothing and looked at the rest of the paperwork. “Go and see the girl and bring me news. I want it to be quick and brief, unless you want to join the bandit in being tortured too.”

“Y-Yes, sir…”

“Oh! You want that?...” The evil man cut the guard off abruptly, mocking his nervousness with an evil smile, while still looking at the papers and the table.

“I-I don't want to, sir, I mean...I...I'm going”

The poor man, practically submissive in his position, left the judge's office in almost the blink of an eye, afraid of being sentenced right there.

Even though the judge delighted in such agony coming from a 'little man' like the one in front of him a few seconds ago, he slowly wiped the smile off his face, because the image of the lady sewing appeared in his mind again. "What a curse, what torture! She must be a witch, that's for sure. That woman can't get out of my head, she's like a needle stuck in my skull!"

And so it went with the man, slowly becoming anguished inside every time he thought of the beautiful seamstress. In the blink of an eye, it was afternoon.

The seamstress kept moving around and always ended up bumping into one place or another, injuring herself on her frames and arms. All this was happening because she was so anxious, even if it was only to make a pair of gloves and a cape. After many restless minutes, you finally sat down to sew:

“Damn judge, damn man... he could ask for these things anywhere else, but no! He wants to torture me, to punish me with his hypocritical, petty, mean 'justice'!” The seamstress complained nervously as she touched up the fingertips of the glove.

Suddenly, you began to feel watched, so you decided to look up and were startled: a guard, not at all discreetly, was watching you through the window pane. It was the usual clumsy man, of course, but the fact that he was - of course - directly sent by Frollo made your blood bubble even more. Since you couldn't take your anger out on the man, you looked down after a few seconds and gritted your teeth with your mouth closed, but with your lips visibly curved, showing that you weren't happy at all.

It also made you a little tense and one of the reasons was that a gypsy woman was hiding with her daughter in the basement of your store, if they came out of there now, that would be it, but on the one hand you were a little relieved that they came before the guard arrived and stared at you at the door. It seems that Frollo knew what you were up to.

The poor woman was fighting against time. As she passed the thread and needle through the fabrics, she didn't realize that it was - almost literally - going by faster than the day. Even with blood, sweat and hatred, she finished her work and let out a great sigh, taking the air into her lungs as if it was the first time she had done this all day.

When you raised your head, to your surprise, it was still late. The sun was still setting and the sky was slowly losing its reddish hue. Ah, that was enough to blow your mind.

“... I can't believe it.” You said, almost without blinking and with a look of disbelief at the situation, looking sideways and putting a hand to your forehead. “My God... how? It can't be!”

Good. Now you had to wait until the evening. Of course, it would be just as bad if you ended things at short notice, but... waiting anxiously for that meeting with the man to happen was torture. Since when are you punished for beating the clock?

“DAMN!” You shouted, groaning in anguish and getting away from your desk to go somewhere else. “If he doesn't ask for me to be picked up with his carriage, he's going to hear some good shit! Sending some little guy to put pressure on me?! Well, how inconsiderate…”

And you kept talking as you paced back and forth as soon as you stood up, but you realized that time wasn't going to go any faster if you kept muttering your discontent. You had to calm down or you'd go mad. The seamstress decided to make herself a cup of tea in an attempt to calm her nerves and read a book so that time would pass more quickly.

*****

Night fell. The streets were dark; along with the curfew that had begun to apply earlier in the day in the city. As expected, no carriages passed your store. Well, what a surprise, huh?

Before the curfew started, the Romani woman and her daughter said they were going out, you insisted that they stay and come back to the Court of Miracles only in the morning, but they didn't want to bother you, so, to be safer, you recommended that they go out the back.

The seamstress was sorting out the judge's gloves and cape. After that, being a vain woman, you meticulously checked in your mirror that you looked good, that your dress fit you well and that your hairstyle was impeccable. Why this excessive concern? You didn't know, you had no idea.

Draping a shawl over your shoulders, you left your store and began the lonely walk to the palace of justice with the package. The cold evening breeze touched your face, the beginning of winter in Paris. Walking through the streets, you could see the stores and markets closing and residents heading for their homes, respecting the curfew while guards stood on every street corner, ready to arrest anyone who was bold enough to break the judge's rule.

Little did the seamstress know that, from afar, Claude Frollo was staring at her from one of the tower windows of his comfortable office, while you had to walk to where the man was. Poor woman, isn't she? Covering herself with a shawl so desperately not to be seen... wait. A shawl? Oh. Oh, my goodness.

When the man realized that you were wearing something to cover your bust and shoulders, he widened his eyes and walked backwards in surprise, but then began to make a serious, fearful expression. His mind started having those thoughts again, those unconscious and absurd thoughts.

With each passing second of waiting, the judge felt as if his self-control was going to fail him at any moment and almost threw himself into the chair behind his desk as he sat down, trapped in his sinful reverie. His body suddenly began to heat up, irritation gradually took hold of him and he regained his composure.

Finally, the girl reached the gates of the Palace of Justice. The guards who were there soon saw her:

“Is this in your hands the order of Judge Claude Frollo?” One of the tall men asked.

“Yes, he said to meet him now.”

“Very good.” He replied.

The men opened the doors of the place and you entered, almost quickly, making the men close the door faster than usual too, with his hands still on the thick iron rods. At that moment, they looked at each other and made a strange expression, with their faces a little closer:

“Is that pretty girl the seamstress?” The guard on the left asked, almost whispering.

“Yes, she's really pretty. But I didn't know that women could run their own business without their husband's supervision.” replied the one on the right, causing the one on the left to make a slightly annoyed expression.

“Yeah... I don't even know if they can, not like that. The crazy judge must have made her do something for him on purpose, just to embarrass her.”

While the men gossiped about the strange situation, you walked around the place with a somewhat cowed look on your face. The place seemed too gloomy to be focused on justice, almost like a gloomy marquis' castle, full of guards and torches in every corner. You looked up and the ceiling was higher than that of any house or mansion, and the colors were too dark to distinguish at that time. The seamstress began to walk faster and arrived at the judge's office. Anger gradually overcame you at the knowledge that you would have to see this man's face again and you regained your posture, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door, then hearing that authoritative, harsh voice you knew all too well saying "Come in"

If it wasn't already clear enough that night fell faster than a stone before, it would be even more so now, precisely because of the moonbeams invading the man's office, his face being the first thing you could see. When you entered the office and closed the large wooden door behind you, you could see the place around you better and even noticed a small fireplace burning in the corner of the room:

“Good evening, sir.” You said seriously, trying not to be nervous, but it was a little obvious, and you couldn't let go of the delivery in your sweat-damp hands.

Frollo simply looked at you without changing his cold expression. After watching you arrive through the window, he quickly changed and put on only his big judge's cloak over his ordinary ones.

“Finally.”

He slowly got up from his chair and put one hand on the table, leaning on it and stepping out from behind it, putting his arms behind him. You put the bag with the delivery on his desk, without looking at his face:

“Since I didn't take your measurements, I ended up using a previous client's size just for a base, but I can correct it if it doesn't fit.”

“Well, but, seamstress…” The judge quickly countered, in a false and mocking tone just to bother you. “How am I supposed to know, or rather feel, that this is the right size? My fingers aren't like any other man's…”

“By putting them on.” You answered in a tone as if you were stating the obvious, your gaze going to him now as you held the long cape.

With that answer, he made an offended expression for a second, but quickly rolled his eyes and closed them, taking a deep breath. As if nothing was wrong, he walked towards her and stood in front of her, looking haughty.

“Be brief. Let's see the package I ordered.”

The woman had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes in disgust at his haughty air of superiority. You showed him the cape, he could see a little of it from the fireplace:

“I made it from the pattern that would look best on you, in my opinion.” The cape seemed to be made of two fabrics, burgundy on the inside and black on the outside.

The man looked closely at the cape, even took it in his hands and brushed his fingers against your for a brief second, coughing in a discreet and slightly embarrassed way, a little electricity and adrenaline coursing through his body at the slightest touch, which, deep down, he craved. He disguised it:

“Not bad. Silk?”

“Yes, sir…” You nodded. “Can you turn around, please?” He was a little suspicious of your request and you held back a sigh. You couldn't believe that you had to explain everything to him. “To see if the size is correct.”

“That's fine.” He said irreverently.

As he turned, Frollo felt the girl's delicate hands brushing against his skin again, but this time on his neck - which made him clench his jaw as he closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was a common agony at being touched by commoners or if it was something beyond his own self-centeredness. And yet, the seamstress had no idea what her touch was doing to him, after all, she was only being professional:

“Is the length good, or would you prefer it shorter?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“It's perfect.” He answered quickly, as if he was going to have a fit.

You then removed your hands from around his neck and shoulders, folding the cloak and placing it on the table. Frollo could still feel the small flaming trail of the girl's hand on his body, which made him miss it a little and yearn for more. When he turned around, the seamstress was taking the black gloves out of the bag and he immediately held out his left hand to you, who found this strange since he could put them on by himself.

"Look at that." you thought a little annoyed as you put the glove on his hand. "He's so inconvenient... how can he be? He wants me to act like his maid, doesn't he? Do you think I'm honored to serve you? Idiot judge..."

“So, sir?” You asked, turning your gaze to his and pretending to look calm “Are you satisfied?”

“With what?” He asked, slightly startled and almost wide-eyed.

“...with the gloves and the cape, sir.” You answered, confused by his reaction and holding your hands together, your arms against your hips in a formal way. You even blinked a little, trying to understand the situation.

“Oh, yes. They're suitable…”

He answered in such a strange way that it only made the seamstress think that he wasn't in the best condition to be seen at that moment, as if he was bothered by your presence or even that he didn't really like your delivery at all. You didn't care, but deep down you were worried about something, you felt bad and it wasn't just because of the energy of the palace of justice or the man in front of you:

“I think it's over here. The value was eight pieces of silver.”

“Before you go, seamstress, I want to clarify a few things...”

Frollo spoke as he moved away from you, going to the door and turning the key in the lock. You watched this action and a shiver ran down your spine, your body frozen with fear and anxiety. By instinct, you took a step backwards and your hips ended up resting on the edge of the table, trapping you:

“Do you think you can outsmart me?” He put his hands together as soon as he closed the door, approaching you but standing at a ‘respectable’ distance.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know very well what I'm talking about, seamstress.” He spoke with hatred in his eyes.

“This Romani business again?” You asked, defensively and looking him up and down in disbelief. He couldn't have found out... “I told you I didn't help anyone and you searched my store.”

The older man didn't hold back his laughter when he saw you insisting on the lie. He had you trapped now, like a fly caught in a spider's web with no way out. He continued:

“You're a brazen viper…”

“Your Honor, despite your position, I will not accept being called that. If you want to have a normal conversation with me, at least be respectful.”

This took him by surprise. He hated that boldness, especially coming from a commoner like you - who had defied him before. His blood boiled with both hatred and lust as he recalled the moment before the first time he had been in your store, remembering how defiant you had been, but also your hands touching at that moment. Out of anger, Frollo stepped closer, taking heavy steps and cornered you, resting his hands on the table on either side of you. Your breath caught in your throat and you opened your eyes wide in fear and surprise:

“You're the one who owes me respect here, and don't change the subject. I sent one of my men to your store and received news that didn't leave me stunned: Two gypsies coming out of the back of your store... what do you have to say about that?”

It shocked you. You've been found out. Fucking guard...

Your heartbeat was racing from the truth being discovered and the proximity of the man, which caused you fear, nervousness and anxiety, leaving your legs weak. Claude laughed a little when he saw her silence and her expression and continued:

“It's a shame to see you lying and risking your life to save that gypsy scum who doesn't deserve such kindness…”

“Get away!” You murmured a little frightened and he didn't move, overwhelmed by hatred and the little lust present.

“Viper sorceress... What do you have to say about it? What's your defense?”

You put your hands on his chest, preventing him from coming any closer. He practically spat those words out of the hatred he felt for being tricked. With your movement, the shawl on your shoulders came down a little, the judge's heart pounded and he swallowed dry at the sight in front of him. As frightened as you were, you noticed that look on yout shoulders and that expression of disgust, but at the same time so lascivious... Then you realized something in his previous words that made you confused:

“Sorceress? Why are you accusing me of witchcraft? What evidence do you have against that?” You asked in a defiant and angry tone.

“There's no point in denying your crimes!”

“I'm not denying it, I'm not denying that I lied! And yes, I tried to save those Romanis, but I won't accept false accusations of witchcraft... What proof do you have against me? Tell me!”

The man froze. He just stared at you as if you were something that frightened him, or even something that he just wanted to touch. He looked as if he was going to pounce on the seamstress at any moment, as if she were prey. That animalistic feeling grew inside him even more under the moonlight and the light of the fireplace, the two of them staring at each other as if any false move would end in disaster.

Suddenly, the judge looked down in a reflective manner, his gaze almost trembling, while the sound of the wood burning became deafening and the flame that burned it seemed to be less warm than the sensation they both felt in their bodies, heating them up with adrenaline. He muttered something, but you couldn't hear it, which annoyed you a little and you asked seriously:

“What did you say? Speak loud and clear, what have you got against me?!”

“You've bewitched me!” He vociferated with hatred in his voice, and continued. “You've made me, a man of God, desire you as you've never desired anyone. The love of a convict!”

You were both silent for a few seconds, weighed down by the weight of your emotions, you stunned and he foolish:

“I don't know what kind of witchcraft you've done, seamstress, but you're driving me crazy. I've been thinking about you from the moment I laid eyes on you... and your shoulders... and your hands...” He turned a little to the side, looking at his hands gleaming in the firelight. “... So lacking in discipline and obedience, so blatantly... How could that attract me? It felt like a thousand demons were attacking me, with visions of a woman flashing through my mind and my eyes, and this woman… was you.”

He looked at the reddish fire in the fireplace with a little difficulty, intense. A reflection of his repressed emotions being exposed, in the midst of a chaos that could no longer be controlled. You were in shock. A shock so tremendous that you were speechless at such accusations, your heart racing like the judge in front of you, you felt hatred, but also pity... why?

You came out of your thoughts when you felt his hand in contact with yours that was resting on the table, squeezing it as if you were some kind of possession of his and his thumb caressing the back of your hand:

“But I can forgive you for this crime and pretend that nothing happened…”

He whispered close to your ear, his warm breath in contact with your neck making you shiver. Because he was so close, Frollo could smell the perfume on your neck. You asked, challenging him:

“And who are you to think that your forgiveness is so important to me? God, by any chance?”

With that answer, anger took over the judge's body and he gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him, who had fire in his eyes. His fingers squeezed your cheeks:

“I swear to God, I'm going to break your arrogance, woman.”

Unexpectedly, you were surprised by a kiss on the lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes widened at the unexpected action and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't budge; on the contrary, he pushed you harder against the table. You hated yourself for the next move…

In a second, you closed your eyes and returned the judge's kiss. Even though it was a rough, hateful kiss, it intensified, bringing out a confusing mixture of sensations. Frollo's hand, which was on your chin, slid down your face until it reached your neck, squeezing lightly, but not enough to suffocate you, so that a moan came from you. He took advantage of this moment to enter your mouth with his tongue, exploring it. An uncontrollable and overwhelming desire dominated them both, and they didn't care about anything else at that moment.

You broke off the kiss to catch your breath. You were confused by what had just happened and Frollo stared at every part of your face; your eyes, your slightly rosy cheeks and your beautiful expression... Frollo's hand didn't leave your neck, as if he wanted to show some kind of dominance there.

The two of you get closer and closer again, as if you were hypnotized and surrendering to lust to start another kiss. A sudden noise comes from the office door, which causes the judge to quickly let go of the woman and move away, pretending nothing has happened and his stern demeanor returning, but still with suspicion and desire present:

“Come in.” he allowed, before clearing his throat. And you quickly recovered before the door opened, straightening the skirt of your dress and draping your shawl over your shoulder.

The door opened to reveal the guard, who, upon entering, hesitated slightly as he realized that he didn't seem welcome at the moment. Even so, he insisted on saying something:

“Hello, sir… and miss.” Said the man, confused. “Am I in the way?”

“Be brief…” Frollo sighed and ran a hand through his gray hair.

The soldier looked at them both briefly with trepidation and decided to look away, trying to avoid the tension in the air.

“Well, er…” Before continuing, he coughed “I just wanted to ask your permission to start training this afternoon because we've been waiting and…”

He started babbling on about it, as well as being brief as he ordered, which irritated the judge, an irritation visible in his eyes. Frollo just nodded as if he didn't care and also seemed anxious for the guard to finish once and for all and leave. You just wanted to get rid of this embarrassing situation, you were afraid that the guard would suspect what was going on between the two of you and you wanted to get back to your store before you caused any more trouble:

“Well, since we've finished our conversation, I think I should go. Goodbye, gentlemen.” You said, bowing slightly as a gesture of respect and farewell.

Frollo was surprised by what you said and then raised his face with a different expression, as if he actually wanted you to stay, but you quickly fled the men's sight and left the judge's office, passing through the corridors that led to the exit of the palace.

As you walked down the street to your house, you were still thinking about what had just happened. You soon arrived at the store and quickly locked the door, as if you were being chased by someone, then leaned your back against the wall and brought your hand up to your lips. You'd just kissed the cruelest judge in Paris, you'd just kissed the man you hated and you'd fallen for your own hypocrisy.

Both went against their own laws. Both went against their own character. Both felt that everything was about to turn upside down. On the one hand, a judge on the verge of a moral collapse, on the other, a seamstress trapped in mortal doubt. The ending is almost as clear as glass: Grandiose changes and a drama that could end in either blood or something unacceptable to French society.

End...

[maluustrawberry]

Red like fire...{Part 1}

(Frollo X Edith X Phoebus)

Warnings: Some prejudiced speech, use of the word "Gypsies" (But only in Frollo's speeches since we know what kind of character he is.) Age gap, Frollo being Frollo.

Synopsis: Frollo needed a new captain to help him with the problems with the romani, but he didn't imagine that the captain would be a woman, causing many disagreements between the two of them since the arrival of the captain.

A/N: I swear I thought of this story when I was taking a shower, Lol. I decided to post this while part two of "Undesirable encounter" yet being made. And I was also surprised that there wasn't any Phoebus fic, so I thought I'd do one. This time I won't use "Y/n" I thought it would be better to create a character, but you can imagine yourself in her place and I hope you like her. Enjoy!!

Love and lust. The feelings that show the true nature of man, even man who calls himself "holy" and "righteous". These feelings drive us to commit so many crazy things just for attention, a look or even a touch. Especially when that feeling comes from someone who has repressed it for so long, hiding their true desires and monstrosities for fear of experiencing sin.

Frollo, the judge, needed help dealing with the Romanis who were entering Paris. He suspected that there was some kind of "nest" in which they were hiding and that they were spreading out from this hiding place. To help him with this task, the judge decided to call in a captain of the royal guard who was in a nearby town and who was free of missions at the moment. Luckily, he found someone, but he had no idea that the captain would actually be a woman...

Her name was Edith Chapelle, and she was the first woman to become captain. When she received the letter from the Judge of Paris, she immediately packed her things and rode her gray horse, Hermes, into town. Of course, it wasn't very common in the 15th century for a woman to hold such an important position; she was forced to deal with a lot of nasty comments and nicknames and, of course, being called a 'witch', but she managed to cope very well.

She began her career as a captain when her father, a former captain, was called up for a war, but was ill and had no male son to replace him, so Edith took his place. The impression was horrible at first, but, being clever, she gradually gained the respect of the men and put them in their place.

Unfortunately, only her surname remained on the list, which often confused the men into thinking that the captain was a man because she bore her father's surname. And as soon as she arrived, it was always a break in expectations for everyone, along with some people's thoughts about her. For Edith, it was no different with that judge.

After riding for a long time until she arrived in Paris, she began to pass through the city, a little lost and, of course, receiving looks of strangeness and disgust. Even with that, she could tolerate it. “Is it possible that, in such a big city, no one has ever seen a woman wearing pants and armor?” A small laugh burst from her lips at the thought.

She was looking for the Palace of Justice and tried to look at the map, but the city had changed a lot and the map would be of no use at the moment.

"Come on, it shouldn't be so hard to find," she thought to herself as she led the horse through the city streets and along La Cité, near Notre-Dame. The woman gazed in awe at the great cathedral, it was still as beautiful as the last time she had seen it, and a small smile appeared on her face as she remembered the good times she had had in this city, especially at Notre-Dame. She let her thoughts take her away and suddenly her horse grumbled and tapped its legs impatiently on the ground:

“Calm down, Hermes.” The redhead tried to calm her animal by patting the side of its neck. “I guarantee that when we arrive, you'll have your carrots. We just need some information...”

The woman commented as she looked around and got off her horse, looking for someone to ask for information. It was a bit difficult with the Parisians passing by and ignoring the visitor, if not, they just gave uncomfortable looks or the mothers whispered in an unobtrusive way to the little girls, who stared curiously at the woman. “Don't look, child, that's disgraceful. Such a poorly disciplined woman.”

The captain noticed a colorful cart near the cathedral, which attracted the attention of some children, who were enchanted by the music that a man in the cart sang while using his puppets to tell a story. Perhaps he was someone who empathized with children and could help her.

She walked over to the cart while carrying her horse on a lead, and the man soon stopped the story. The children also looked at the girl and the approaching horse:

“Good morning.” She greeted everyone with a small smile. “I hope I'm not in the way.”

“Not at all, miss.” The man spoke, being friendly and relaxed. The woman could tell he was a Romani from his different skin color and the ring hanging from his ear. “My stories are for all audiences.”

“Oh no, no, I just came to ask for information. I'm new in city.” She explained, not noticing the children stroking her horse, and what luck that Hermes was a very peaceful animal and liked children. “Can you tell me where the Palace of Justice is?”

“It's not far from here. Unfortunately, I can't take you there, but just go straight up that street and turn right, you'll get there easily, there's no mistake.”

“Thank you very much, sir.” The girl thanked him, noticing a hat with some coins on the counter of the Roma's cart, and took some out of her pocket and put them there. “I hope this helps.”

“Thank you, miss, won't you stay for a story?”

“I appreciate that, but I have to get to the palace, I should have been there hours ago.” She joked. “Maybe another time?”

“I understand, dear, see you later.”

She said goodbye to the Romani and pulled Hermes' leash, taking him away from the children and following the path to the palace. The captain decided to walk through the streets this time, to stretch her legs a bit and to avoid attracting so much attention on her horse.

Following the Roma's instructions, she arrived at the place and was in front of the palace. A shiver ran through her body as nervousness and anxiety took over. The place was huge, and what caught the woman's attention most were the tall towers of the palace; they weren't as tall as those of the cathedral, but they seemed to give a great view of the city. The redhead took a deep breath and walked up to the palace. There were two guards at the entrance, next to the large doors:

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” She spoke and the men looked her up and down with contempt and doubt. She was a little taller than the men and that was enough to bruise their egos a little, after all, the woman was 1.74 tall. “I came at the behest of Judge Claude Frollo.”

The guards looked at each other, holding back their laughter, and one of them asked mockingly:

“And what would the judge want with a woman?” When the guard said this, this time the redhead took on a serious tone with a little anger in her voice, and then spoke.

“Summon her as the new captain of the guard, perhaps?”

She took the judge's letter out of her bag and unfolded it, showing it to the guards. They read it and were stunned, they had to read it more than once to make sure they understood it correctly and that it wasn't a forgery, but they knew very well that it was the judge's handwriting and his own seal on the letter. One of the guards cleared his throat and spoke:

“H-He's in the main hall, ma'am. Do we have permission to put your horse in the stable?”

“I'd be grateful if you would.” The small smile returned to her face and she handed Hermes' lead to one of the men.

The guard opened the palace gate and the captain entered. The door was closed behind her and she looked around, analyzing the place. The main hall was even larger inside, and soon she heard voices in the next room, the judgment chamber, and followed the voice. It was two men, but one of them had the most authoritative, deep voice that would give anyone goosebumps.

When she arrived at the judgment hall, she saw a tall, old man in the robes of a judge talking to the guard, but the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the captain. Nervousness hit her hard when she saw all the attention on her and the judge's deep judgmental gaze, seeming to analyze every detail of her soul, but she maintained her posture and spoke:

“Good morning, gentlemen, excuse me. Mr. Judge Claude Frollo?” She asked and the man frowned slightly.

“Yes...” He answered a little uncertainly and put his hands together. “And you are...?”

“Captain Edith Chapelle, sir.” She quickly introduced herself, bowing slightly and the judge's eyes widened slightly, not believing he had hired a woman. “Reporting for duty as ordered.”

“... Is this a joke?” It was the only thing that came out of the judge's mouth after so much shock and disappointment. “I didn't hire a woman to take care of the job.”

“Well, it's in the letter you sent me, Your Honor.” She handed him the letter and the older man took it and looked at it as she spoke. “I know that my military record only contains my surname, but...”

“Go away.” He spoke and she frowned, not believing it.

“Sorry?...”

“There's been a mistake.” He handed her the letter, his expression hard, serious and with hatred in his eyes. “I didn't hire a woman for the job and you should have this information on your military record.”

“Sir, I've come all this way...” She tried to explain herself, but he quickly interrupted her.

“If you knew how to get here, then you know very well how to get home.” The judge spoke with contempt and turned away as he spoke. “A woman, being a captain? You don't seem to know your real role in society and you're playing at being a soldier.”

“I know my role very well, Your Honor.” She spoke as she walked up to him, who stopped and stared at her with contempt, that look would make anyone shut up, but she insisted. Stubborn as she was.

“I can punish you if you continue with this stubbornness, Miss Chapelle.” He spoke, but she continued.

“Punish me for what? For being a woman?”

“Look how you talk to the Judge of Paris, woman...” The guard butted in and the redhead immediately cut him off with an authoritative and serious tone.

“I didn't ask you to talk! Put yourself in your place before meddling in a matter that hasn't even been mentioned!”

That tone made the guard quickly shut up and walk away from the two of them with his fists clenched, which shocked Frollo, he had never seen a woman with so much control and even more so insistent. The guard left them alone and she continued, it was amazing that she wasn't afraid of the punishment that would follow, as if she had a great passion for her work:

“I'm doing my duty, Your Honor. And my role is to protect the cities and justice, as I was trained to do.”

“Put yourself in your position as a woman...” The older man approached, and his expression, along with his gaze, was capable of intimidating anyone, including the captain. But she stood her ground and didn't back down. “You should be at home looking after your husband and children. In fact, I doubt that you have a husband, and if you did, he would certainly be ashamed.”

These words would surely make anyone give up, it wouldn't be worth it, but Edith continued, despite feeling upset:

“Even though you don't know my gender, you've seen my work and my achievements as a captain in my military record, and I think that's why you summoned me, isn't it? So what difference will it make, knowing that I'm now a woman?”

Claude Frollo remained silent, absorbing everything the woman said and obviously he had no more arguments for it. To his disappointment, she was right, and anyway if he were to call another captain it would take longer than necessary and he needed to do his duty as a judge. From start to finish, she showed a mature, responsible and stubborn demeanor, and she seemed to have a way with words and a certain authority:

“You've shown yourself to have an extremely irritating but endearing stubbornness and you have good posture. I hope I'm not mistaken about that, Captain.” Frollo said the word "captain" with a certain disdain, but Edith ignored it and looked hopefully at him, her hands trembling with anxiety. “I'll give you a chance, I won't tolerate any mistakes and if you commit any disobedience... don't want to imagine what comes next...” A small smile came to the judge's face and it caused the captain to shiver, it was a wicked smile that caused discomfort.

The short-haired redhead nodded and he turned away from her, starting to climb the steps to the upper room of the palace, she soon realized that she should follow him and so she did. Frollo gave Edith this chance, he thought it was ridiculous for a woman to think she could do the captain's job better than any man, he was sure she wouldn't last two weeks, but he couldn't deny that he was curious to see how far she would go, it would be satisfying for a man like him to see her so weakened and show that he was right all this time.

They reached the top floor and walked out onto the open balcony of the palace, and soon he began:

“I hope you know what you're doing, Captain. I must say that you've come to Paris at a dangerous time, and you'll need a firm hand to deal with so many pagans. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Dealing with pagans? What do you mean?” She asked and he gave a small smile.

“Gypsies, Captain. Gypsies live outside the normal order and are always breaking the law, stealing, taking children from their mothers and defiling our Christian city with their pagan ways. And they have to be stopped.” Frollo explained as he looked out over the city.

“Wait a minute, are you telling me I've been summoned from the war to arrest Romanis?” She asked incredulously, thinking he was joking, but at the judge's slight glance, she recovered. “I mean... it's just that I've never received a mission like this before...”

“Everything has a first time, Captain, and I'm playing my part as a judge in cleansing the city of evil.” Edith found the way he spoke strange, did this man think he was a God or something? Always feeling superior to everyone else? “Come with me...”

She soon obeyed him, walking with him through the palace of justice and heading for what seemed to be his office. It was a very well organized room, with several books on the shelf, a desk full of papers and a map of the city hanging on the wall of the room. The judge continued as he closed the door behind the captain:

“For twenty years I've been... looking after the gypsies.” He spoke as he walked to his desk. “One by one, yet with my success they seem to have sprouted. I believe they have some refuge, a 'nest', so to speak.”

Frollo sat down at his table, but the woman remained standing as she listened to the explanation, the judge gave a small smile as he noticed that she was just waiting for his order to sit down, it seems that she had been educated very well as a captain and recognized who her leader was, she had passed his little "test":

“Sit down, Captain.” At his command, with a small smile on his face, the redhead obeyed and sat down. Frollo continued: “Moving on, I need you to find this gypsy hideout and capture any you find wandering around the city.”

“If I may, sir. What should we do if we find the hideout?”

Frollo continued with that wicked smile, leaned his elbows on the table and put his hands together. Edith watched his movements and soon realized what he meant:

“Sir, I wasn't trained to kill innocent people.”

“But you were trained to take orders...” That smile wouldn't leave Frollo's face, with this information he knew she would give up, or at least he thought so. “And 'innocents'? Do you think that pagan race is innocent?”

“Just because one Romani has committed crimes, doesn't mean that everyone should be punished for it.”

“Don't you see that it's in their blood to be sinners, my dear?” He asked calmly.

“Yes, just as it's in the blood of every human being. If you do this, you'll be breaking a law, you'll be causing genocide, and from what I read in the law you should only kill if someone commits a crime and you have proof of the crime committed. You don't want to lose your job, do you?”

This woman was dangerously clever and had a sharp tongue. The judge's expression became serious again and his right hand clenched tightly into a fist, but in a discreet way, as if he were controlling his desire to break that sharp woman's neck, he certainly underestimated her quick thinking and tough mind. Then he had a different idea of manipulating her:

“You're a clever woman, Captain, I have to confess.” He commented as he analyzed the papers in an attempt to disguise himself. “And you've given me an idea, I think it's best just to arrest all the gypsies and when it comes time for the trial I'll draw the conclusions as to whether they deserve the death penalty or not. Since you care so much about these gypsy scum.”

“I care about justice, and about our work.”

“How thoughtful of you.” He spoke sarcastically.

“And what will happen to those who don't get the death penalty?“

“They'll be free, simple.”

That was very strange. Edith was about to retort, but kept quiet. She had already said too much, and at least he hadn't forced her to bathe in the blood of innocents. Then she returned to the subject of the mission:

“Do you have any suspicions about where the safe house is? If you don't mind, I'll need a new map of the city. Mine is old and Paris has changed a lot since then.”

“So far we've had no leads, Captain. And as for the map, I'll arrange it. You have full control of my men and you'll have to put them in line. Any more questions about the service?”

“Is there anything important you want to tell me?” As she asked this, he shifted in his chair and leaned his body slightly on the table, clasping his hands together.

“I'm only going to tell you one thing; remember why I summoned you... you must not show any compassion to those pagans. And I'm going to demand at least some information about the mission when the day is over.”

“I'll keep you informed as soon as possible about the hideout, sir.”

“Very well, you're cleared. Your service begins tomorrow and I expect good results.”

“Yes, sir.”

Edith nodded and got up from her chair, the judge's gaze on her at all times as she made her way to the office exit. And now he was analyzing the woman, noticing her height and physique. She definitely didn't have a strong body suited to fighting. Her arms, even hidden by armor, looked as thin and delicate as any woman's, and her shoulders weren't that broad. Her legs, which were long and with thick thighs, looked very nice underneath the armor, and, of course, he couldn't help but notice those wide hips.

The judge quickly pushed these thoughts aside and sighed as soon as she left; he had never met a woman like her before and was intrigued, but at the same time felt contempt for her. He was going to make this woman's life as captain a living hell...

*****

Edith left the palace of justice, and as soon as she left, she breathed a sigh of relief after so much tension with that difficult judge. She went downstairs and went to the stables to get her horse to leave. She needed to find a place to stay in the city and it was a good thing she had money for accommodation and knew a place, she just needed to make sure it still existed.

It was dusk, and riding to the place, Edith observed how the town looked. Soon her thoughts were dominated by Frollo, that judge was no ordinary man, he always seemed to be driven by hatred and punishment, he wouldn't be easy to work with, that much she knew. She had nothing against Romanis, and she wasn't one to judge someone by their appearance. The redhead had a bad feeling about this, worrying about the Romani people and, of course, worrying about the city being in the hands of such a cruel judge.

Riding through the city, she passed some familiar streets until she came to St. Michael's Bridge, hearing the sound of the river passing under the bridge. As she passed the place, she was surprised that the small apartment was still there after so many years. She still had images of the House of Falourdel in her mind from when her father used to pay for lodgings there when they would visit Paris. Edith got off her horse and left him waiting in front of the apartment:

“I won't be long, Hermes, I promise.”

She spoke before entering, the bell ringing as soon as the door was opened. The same lady who had attended to her father when she was a child was there at the counter. Edith was genuinely surprised to see that this old woman was still alive. "Maybe she was so grouchy that not even hell or heaven wanted her there…" Edith bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the thought:

“Which room?” The old woman asked, exactly, without a 'good afternoon' or even a 'what do you want?' Edith frowned, one thing she hated was rudeness, but she let it pass.

*****

Managing to book a room upstairs and a stable for Hermes to stay in, the woman entered the Santa Carta room, which was not in the best condition. The walls were almost falling apart, the bed was rusty, the window was broken and there was a faint smell of mildew coming from the walls. It had been a long time since the place had been renovated.

Tired from her trip, the woman locked the door, left her things in the corner of the bed and took off her armor, feeling relieved and more relaxed after taking off the tight, uncomfortable metal. She began to clean her body with the damp cloth and finally put on her nightgown.

She wanted to walk around the city before nightfall to get to know Paris better, but she was too tired having come all this way and had a long job the next day, so that judge managed to sap her energy. She lay down on the bed and sighed, snuggling down to sleep and get ready for her first day at work tomorrow.

Continue?...

[maluustrawberry]

Random question but how many asks are in your inbox?

Okay, so here's a list of the characters I've been asked

• Jafar X Female Reader: 1

• Hades X Female Reader: 5 (OMG)

• Clopin Trouillefou X Female Reader: 1

• Miguel X Female Reader (Smuts 👀): 1

• Part 2 of "Undesirable Encounter": 1 (but there are also people asking me in the comments)

• Bunnymund (ROTG) X reader: 2

• Miguel X Fem! Reader X Tulio (Smuts): 1

I forgot to tell that I write "Smuts" too, I don't have that much experience, but I hope you like it.

See you later ♡

[maluustrawberry]

I saw that you are accepting fic requests. Do you write about some DreamWork's characters too? I wanted to request a Pitch Black from the rise of the guardians.

And I wanted to say that I love your work, your fanfiction are very good and I love the way you manage to write the characters so well!!!😭❤️❤️❤️

“My Dear Cupid.”

(Pitch Black X Fem!Reader)

Synopsis: Pitch, better known as the boogeyman, ended up developing a new feeling that he had never felt in all his years, feeling for the new guardian who was your total opposite, for you the guardian of love, the cupid.

A/N: By great coincidence I was watching this film recently. Of course I'm going to write about Dreamworks characters too!! You can ask me, but it will take me a while to make some fanfiction because there are already a lot of requests in front. The next one will be Clopin Trouillefou and Hades from Hercules.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

He hadn't imagined that this could happen, no one had, least of all her, who he thought had deliberately made the enchantment so powerful that it affected the king of nightmares.

That flame and that heat disturbed him. Pitch had never felt that burning in all his millennia of life, but everything changed after his first encounter with the guardian of love, Cupid.

After a meeting of the guardians at the North Pole on the subject of the new guardian, The Man in the Moon determined that the new guardian should destroy Pitch and protect the children, along with the duty of bringing joy to them.

Knowing this information for himself, Pitch decided to face the chosen one personally, after all, a simple cupid couldn't do anything against him; or so he thought.

The blizzard and the intense cold dominated the place, but that didn't bother the bogeyman at all, because everyone knows that cold and fear combine perfectly with each other; leaving only agony and suffering. When he saw a silhouette in the middle of all that snow, he deduced that it might be you and sneaked up from behind to destroy you with just one blow from his scythe, and you wouldn't even know who hit you.

That's when he saw your face. The moment you sensed that you were being pursued, you quickly turned around and aimed your bow and arrow, surprising him and leaving him static in that position holding his scythe.

The two of you stood in silence, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Pitch seemed awestruck by your appearance, not imagining that you looked so angelic and delicate. Seeing you pointing your arrow and looking deeply at him, while the snow from the blizzard stuck to your hair, was a sight worthy of a painting.

It was hard to say what kind of look he was looking at and where the flame that was coming from him was coming from. Pitch wasn't as expressive, but his gaze showed that he had never been as perplexed as he was at that moment; it was one of admiration, and therefore full of disturbance and turmoil.

And you looked at him confused, but also wary. "Why doesn't he just attack me?" You asked yourself, and you couldn't attack him either, you were overcome with trembling and the cause of this was the intense cold. Before you could shoot your arrow, he quickly disappeared, using your shadow, to his advantage, which was close to him. That was so fast that a small gasp of fright escaped his lips. You lost sight of him, but looked around, still holding your arrow and bow tightly in case he appeared by surprise, but no, he was really gone.

That was your little encounter. After that day, his thoughts were dominated by you, appearing in such strong colors that this unknown feeling and the desire to tear you apart grew more and more. Your wings were so delicate, your neck so fragile and graceful that he wanted to squeeze and twist it using just one of his hands.

He removed all the hatred and evil from his heart and recognized that this hatred and evil was only love, which had become terrible things in the heart of the bogeyman, a poisonous, hateful and vicious love that seemed more like an obsession. In all these years it never occurred to him that the guardian of the nightmare, the terror of every child, could fall in love with such a fragile, angelic creature, the complete opposite of him, and therefore one of his enemies, but unfortunately it did.

That's when a thought came to him: you were a cupid, the guardian of love, and you made people fall in love with each other. Could that be? It had to be, there was a great possibility that you had put a spell on him. The fixed idea kept coming back and torturing him, he had to get rid of this doubt in his mind by going to you and putting an end to this agony once and for all.

*****

You were flying to your temple after several hours of work. Of course bringing couples together was your specialty, but you also worked on preserving the sympathy, innocence and gentleness of children, because love was related to all that too, and your work only worked with the power contained in the substances you put in your arrows.

On the way there, you sensed that something was wrong, and unfortunately your intuition was right. Your temple was being invaded by Pitch's "horses", but they quickly left as a figure, and when you looked a little further, you noticed that they were stealing your arrows and the vials containing the substances. This made you extremely worried because your arrows and those vials were your most important things, they were what made you the cupid and guardian.

When the last creature left your temple as fast as a shadow, you followed it trying to catch up with it as it flew, it was hard to keep up as the nightmare was fast, but you didn't give up for anything, you weren't so focused on catching up with the nightmare that you didn't even remember to call the other guardians to help you.

With that chase, the nightmare took you into a forest and disappeared among the trees, you landed and looked around. The place was totally dark and gray with a certain evil malice, as if there was no life, only melancholy, which made you immediately become defensive and walk among those trees and hold your bow and arrow.

You looked around for that smoky black creature as you entered the forest, until your ears caught the sound of a neigh and you knew it wasn't just any horse. The cupid ran quickly to where the sound was coming from and stopped at the sight of a broken, old bed in a deep hole, getting closer cautiously, a bad energy taking you over more and more and you were slightly startled to hear the neighing again, but this time inside that hole. You had no choice, had to get back what had been stolen from you. So you entered that deep, dark hole, using your wings to land gently without hurting yourself.

As you stepped into the room, you looked around. It was a poorly lit cave, the lights were just a few rays of sunlight that invaded the deep cavern, who knows how many meters you were underground, the cold dominated the place, but it was bearable. You managed to discover Pitch's hideout, but you also wondered whether you would make it out alive or sane. You gathered your courage and decided to explore the place while your guard was still up, but even so, your fear was palpable, and he loved it, little did you know that he savored your fear.

You stood out in that dark, gray place, with your angelic appearance, lively and so delicate, it was obvious that you shouldn't be there, that environment didn't suit you. The negative energy in that place was so strong that it gave you the creeps, and you also felt the sensation of being watched. You just wanted to take what was yours and leave.

As you walked around the place, you could see the large globe with the little lights on, and you came closer to look at it. You knew that each light was a child who believed in you, but how could he have that in his cave? Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice:

“Looking for something?”

When you looked back, you saw only his shadow on the wall and wasted no time in shooting your arrow, but the shadow quickly disappeared, slipping into one of the corridors of that cave and you followed him, but lost sight of him when you reached that dimly lit corridor:

“Put the arrow down, dear. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you.” His voice echoed around, in that calm tone of his that could put a child to sleep.

“Afraid? I'm not afraid of you.” You said, still holding your bow and arrow, looking around and turning quickly to look for any sign of him.

“Don't lie cupid, my specialty is understanding people's fears...” Then he stepped out of the shadows, standing in front of you with that smile on his face as he looked you up and down. “...just as you can understand love, but don't seem to understand when it comes from a certain person...”

The bogeyman walked quietly around you, and you couldn't take your eyes off him as aimed the arrow. Both of your hearts were beating fast at the presence of the other, but for different reasons, yours being of fear, but his being of love and eagerness to put his hands on you, if only for the slightest touch.

“Give me back what you stole from me.” You said commandingly. “You don't need my things.”

“Don't you see that I did this just to bring you to me?” He asked seriously and stopped walking.

“And what do you want from me?”

As you asked this, a small smile formed on his lips and he disappeared back into the darkness behind him. You quickly followed him and as you passed through the darkness you felt like you had been teleported to another corner of the cave. He was toying with you, you were desperate, feeling lost and wondering how you got there. You dropped your guard and felt the bow being quickly taken from your hands, one of his horses had picked it up and carried it away, now leaving you unarmed:

“I just need some answers on a specific matter that's been bothering me for days.” You heard his voice echoing again and his shadow walked around the corners of the wall as he explained. “I've never felt a feeling like this in all these years, I feel weak and anxious when it comes to you, but at the same time it's such a pleasant warmth and delicious anxiety when you're around.... Oh! My cupid... What have you done?”

He asked with a sigh. You were confused and stunned by this information, you knew exactly what he was describing and what that feeling was. He was in love with you? But how?...

“My spell doesn't work on myself, I can't make someone fall in love with me. I didn't even know you could fall in love...”

You said as you took slow steps backwards, suddenly you felt a presence at your back and a shiver ran through your body as you felt two icy hands on your shoulders and a whisper close to your ear:

“We seem to have discovered something together. So why would I, the bogeyman, be in love with you, such a delicate cupid who is the complete opposite of me?”

The sensation of the king of nightmares' icy touch on your warm skin brought a small thermal shock to both of them, his presence so close exuded a very strong negative energy, but at the same time transformed it into a pleasurable adrenaline and fear. His question made you quiet and also thoughtful:

“Did that leave you speechless, love?” he asked, speaking close to your ear while his hands rubbed your shoulders and squeezed them lightly, making him inhale deeply as he felt satisfied and relaxed at finally being able to feel you and satisfy his curiosity about what it was like to touch your soft skin.

“I don't know what to say... I can only say that we don't decide who we fall in love with, it's impossible to control the desires of the heart. And I can't undo that since it wasn't my spell, it was natural.”

“I confess I wanted you to undo that...” He explained as one of his hands left your shoulder and went to your waist, bringing you closer to him until your back and wings brushed against his chest. “It made me so weak, but I changed my mind when I realized how good this feeling was, but also how torturous... It's an almost addictive sensation, and so new.”

As he spoke close to your neck with the sensation of his lips almost touching your sensitive skin, your attention went to his hand, which was on your shoulder and slowly descending, tracing its way down your skin, to your elbow and arriving at your small and delicate hand. His long, slender fingers intertwined with yours, and the energy of that touch gave you a different sensation, of course there was no good energy coming from Pitch, but somehow you felt a warm, protective feeling, therefore of great danger and you felt the same anxiety.

Your gaze shifted from your entwined hands to his face, your heart softening as you saw the way he looked at you, revealing the deep burning desire in his eyes. For the first time you discovered that there was love in the eyes of the king of nightmares. But you were uncertain, he was your enemy, you couldn't trust the man who was as treacherous as a snake, and besides, what would your friends think of that? You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a small laugh from him:

“I don't understand love, but there's something that leads me to believe that we were meant for each other. It's evident from the mere contact of our hands.” He spoke in a calm, enveloping voice as he lightly squeezed your waist and caressed your hand. That's when you pulled away and faced him, and he felt an emptiness at that.

“I can't.” You said thoughtfully and with a hint of sadness, this couldn't happen, you were a guardian and you were supposed to protect the children from the bogeyman. Unfortunately he was right, however wrong it was, it seemed certain that you were soul mates. That smile wouldn't leave his face.

“You're afraid of giving yourself to me, afraid of finding out what the other guardians will think, afraid of disappointing them.” The taller man approached you and grabbed your chin, lifting your face, forcing you to face him once more. “Am I right, my cupid?”

“But my goal is to destroy you.”

Holding your chin firmly, he moved even closer, and you stared into the deep golden eyes that were fixed on your lips. That man's ability to bewitch you and influence you to give in was remarkable, and it was practically impossible to resist after so many looks, touches and closeness... He was bewitching you like a snake that grabs its prey so cautiously to strike next:

“You already destroy me completely just by your presence... Don't you see that I'm totally at your mercy, darling? You have me in the palm of your hand.”

Cupid, which was you, felt almost as if you were being seduced into opening Pandora's box, about to unlock the doors to dangerous territory with no turning back. It was slowly turning into a game of pride and hesitation. Their faces were so close that you could feel them both breathing, a chill went through his stomach and he felt his cheeks start to heat up. Before you could say anything, you were surprised by his kiss on your red lips, breaking the distance and forcing you to give in to your hidden desires. Your eyes widened in surprise at the bogeyman's audacity, but you returned the kiss after closing your eyes.

While you were kissing with such fervor, Pitch slid his hand around your waist, drawing you close to him, joining your bodies, while his other hand went up to the back of your neck, gently pulling your hair. This made you moan involuntarily during the kiss, at which point he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. Pitch held you so close to his body that he seemed to have waited years for this moment, he was desperate to feel you, your body, your lips and hear your sweet moans. You had never experienced a kiss like this, it was so needy, possessive and deep, you felt as if you were the only creature that mattered to him and his most valuable possession, and indeed, you were.

He interrupted the kiss, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath, you realized you were wrong that it was over when he started kissing your neck, distributing light bites and sucking on the sensitive, soft skin of the cupid, marking it like an animal marking territory. Your wings fluttered softly as you felt his cool fingers caressing them and his knee sliding between your legs, teasing you. Knowing he wanted to push the limits, you pushed him away from your neck, and your hands rested on his chest as your eyes met:

“That can't happen again...” He laughed when you said this and gradually let go of your arms and pulled away, feeling the flaming trail of your palm on his chest.

“Deny it all you want, I know you'll come back again and we'll have lots of dates like this, love.” The taller man removed the small lock of hair from your face. “You know where my hideout is, just visit me.”

That man knew very well how to manipulate someone, especially a creature as sentimental and romantic as you. He magically took your little bow and arrow from his back and handed it to you, and as soon as you took it you looked at him doubtfully:

“Until another day, my cupid.”

As he said this he snapped his fingers and suddenly you no longer felt the ground around your feet and you fell into that darkness, desperately trying to find a position to fly to, but as soon as you did you were teleported back to your temple, specifically into your bedroom and fell onto your bed. You were breathing heavily from the adrenaline and the unexpected fright, so you sat on the bed thinking about what had happened and running your hand through your hair.

Your enemy had just declared his feelings to you, given himself to you completely, and then kissed you and you gave in to that temptation. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling empty for having stopped such bold caresses.

When you got out of bed, confused by your feelings, you wondered what your next meeting would be like, if it would be the same and if you should give in next time, or if there would be a next time. And as you looked in the mirror you also wondered how you were going to hide those marks on your neck from your guardian friends...

End...