Can you do sum romantic quasimodo hc?? He's so cute, I can'tt💔😭😭
yesss I love Quasi!! Ended up writing love confession hcs, but if you'd like more generic romantic ones please let me know!
~A relationship with him would be a slow start
~He very quickly falls for you but is nervous to act on it, worried that you wouldn't reciprocate his feelings
~Has to hype himself up and definitely needs quite a few pep talks from his gargoyle friends before he feels comfortable enough to confess
~Sets up a lil picnic in his belltower, and runs over everything in his head beforehand to make sure it's perfect
~Definitely practices his confession, constantly repeating it to himself as he waits for you to arrive
~Despite all that when you do arrive he barely manages to fumble through it, constantly stuttering as he nervously tries to recite what he wanted to say
~Tries to pour a drink for you and accidentally spills it all over the place, one of the candles he lit sets something on fire, everything that could go wrong does
~His face is bright red by the end of it and he can barely look you in the eyes
~You'll have to reassure him that it's all alright and despite everything you had a wonderful time
~honestly after all that you'll probably have to end up confessing to him first to save him from total heart failure when he tries
~But once you do he is over the moon! Excitedly telling you everything he finds beautiful about you (And it's a loooong list) and he won't be able to stop himself from talking
~But the second you give him a kiss even if it's just a simple peck on the cheek he stares at you awestruck and wide-eyed, his face now a deep shade of red
~He's already head over heels in love with you and is willing to do anything to prove it
Quasimodo is shy at first — not because he doesn’t like you, but because he’s used to people recoiling from him. Your genuine warmth leaves him flustered, yet deeply curious.
He’s incredibly observant. While he might not always speak up, he notices the tiniest changes in your mood or expression and tries to quietly help.
Despite his sheltered upbringing, he’s surprisingly witty and has a playful sense of humor that comes out more and more as you grow close.
Because he's been told all his life that he's "different" in a bad way, your unconditional affection feels almost unreal to him. Sometimes, he'll quietly ask, "Why me?" — not fishing for compliments but genuinely wondering how someone could see him this way.
He makes little gifts for you out of scrap materials from the bell tower — delicate wood carvings, painted tiles, or small sculptures.
If you come to visit him in the tower, he'll ring the bells just for you, timing the tones so they create a soft, harmonious melody he associates with your presence.
He loves carving or painting your likeness into small figures and won't admit that he's made more than one.
When he walks with you in the city, he stays slightly behind you, keeping an eye out for anyone who might say something hurtful so he can gently guide you away before it starts.
At first, he's hesitant about physical contact — not because he doesn't want it, but because he's afraid of doing something wrong. Once you show him you're comfortable, he becomes incredibly tender and careful with his touch.
He hugs like he’s afraid to let go — not squeezing too hard, but holding you with both arms, chin resting lightly on your head or shoulder.
His favorite thing is when you rest your head against his chest while he talks; the deep vibrations of his voice soothe you, and the steady beat of your heartbeat soothes him.
Sometimes, while you’re looking out over Paris together, he’ll hold your hand loosely at first, then tighten his grip just slightly — almost shyly asking you to stay.
He loves showing you hidden nooks of the cathedral — secret stairways, old inscriptions, and places with breathtaking views of the city.
You both sometimes lie on the floor of the tower, watching the colored light from the stained glass windows dance across the stone.
He teaches you the names of each bell and lets you help ring them — laughing when the vibration makes you wobble.
The gargoyles tease him relentlessly when you're around, but he tries to play it off while blushing furiously.
Quasimodo doesn't have an aggressive streak by nature, but the moment someone insults you, you see a flash of rare, fierce anger.
If you're in the marketplace and someone gets too close, he subtly positions himself between you and them— strong, solid, and silently intimidating.
He’s not possessive, but he is reassuringly present when you’re together, often checking to make sure you’re comfortable or safe.
He’s endlessly patient when you have bad days, quietly offering comfort without pushing you to talk until you’re ready.
When he struggles with memories of Frollo's cruelty, you remind him of the kindness and worth he already carries — something he's slowly learning to believe.
Sometimes he'll murmur, "You make me feel...normal. Better than normal." And he means it with all his heart.
Also; I am a sharing Pierre Gringoire yumeshipper that will frequently post about him... if you are a THOND yumeshipper PLEASE moot me up !!!
I noticed a severe lack of fanfiction involving characters other than judge Claude Frollo, and even though I don't mind writing him— I decided to take it upon myself to write about the other members of the cast as well as the other adaptations.
Posts will be excruciatingly slow because I struggle with my mental health, I hope you can all understand— orion out…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
HEYY I don’t know if you write Hunchback of Notre Dame fanfics but I’ve read your stories and would love to see one!! If it’s no trouble, can you please write a Quasimodo x reader type story? It’s alright if not, but I just love your posts <33
The secret flower and the bell ringer
Quasimodo x fem!reader
warning : fluff, comfort, some angst, implied obsession (a little bit), both are young adults don't get confused by the summary
Summary : The Hunchback of Notre Dame the raised son of the judge but what if these are not the only secrets of the church. What if two outcast children find comfort under the bells of the church.
info : i'm so sorry that i'm doing it after months i hope you like it and thank you very much for your lib it helped me a lot. There will definitely be more to come for the movie but now have fun reading ;)
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In Paris there are two kinds of children who had a family, who had someone they could rely on, who were safe and cared for, who received love and cohesion. They were children who were always seen holding their parents' hands and who didn't have to make an effort to be picked up or loved.
That was one kind of child, the others were the poor million souls who had no family, who were bastards and outcasts who grew up in children's homes and were not cherished and cared for.
But above all, these children were incapable of love and were happy when they were adopted, as the upper classes and the mob always said behind their backs.
Facts and words that were not only known to the mysteious bell-ringer of the church who rang the bells every day and was humbly grateful for the mercy of his master and rearing judge Frollo.
He wasn't the only one to feel the same gratitude. This gratitude was also reflected in the life-affirming and trying to find positive and loving look of the young flower seller, who also looked after the children's home paid for by church taxpayers.
Two souls who never met but he watched her from the highest towers and hanging from the stone statutes, he watched her whenever she sold the most colorful flowers at the market, smiling her lovely smile as best he could. ,,She's full of joy, people!" he had said over and over again to his three cronies when he saw her joyful smile when her little children came to her and pulled what they had found or begged for.
But even when she stood there with her flowers on the small wooden stand, her gaze always seemed to go back to the church. ,,Are you watching me father or is it someone else?" she said to herself whenever she thought she saw a shadow on the roof when she slept at night in the church in the bedchamber he had left for her.
The Archdeacon of Paris of Notre Dame her father a pious kind-hearted man who had taken her in twenty years ago when he had left her at the door. Whenever she saw herself in a reflection or in a mirror, she asked herself if she was the image of her parents? Did she even look like that? Or was it because of something important? Was I ever loved at all?
But these questions she was asking herself began to disappear not only when she received the thanks of the archdeacon she was grateful to, but also the children she looked after, who she knew she would hopefully help them to live better lives by teaching them to read and write.
,,Another day coming to an end and yet…no family, no home" she mumbled as she packed up the rest of her flowers and had just said goodnight to the children in the orphanage and hummed a little bedtime song.
Unbeknownst to her on her way back to the church, however, this time there were two pairs of eyes on her, one full of arrogance and the other full of sincerity.
Opening the large door and looking at the flowers, she decided to place a few of the remaining ones at the altar to pray that the day would be good when she opened her eyes in the morning.
,,A flower blooms with beauty like you" she heard his voice knowing that when she got up she would see him standing there with that arrogant expression. ,,Judge Frollo you are too kind…but I-I have to go to bed tomorrow is another day" she tried to convince him as she almost dropped the other flowers in shock as she stood up and tried to walk slowly towards her room when she saw his smiling face.
,,Of course you said a night prayer, the judge should judge you and your pretty thoughts, shouldn't he?" he asked making an inviting gesture that she knew where he wanted to take her. He scared her, Frollo was like a parasite on flowers, destroying them and leaving them broken. ,,Yes-No, please leave me alone," she begged, afraid of what was to come as he came closer and closer to her when suddenly a clatter came from somewhere in the church.
Something that made them both stop and Frollo seemed to regain his composure and saw hatred in his eyes as he retreated back up the towers, muttering something about being no good.
Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, she suddenly heard footsteps and a vroshctiges ,,Are you all right?" which made her flinch.
Looking around, she didn't see the few candles and torches before she saw the shadow on one of the pillars, ,,Yes, thank you, I'm fine…thank you for saving me, who are you?" she asked as she walked towards him, wanting to thank her savior, feeling her heart beating fast with fear, darkness and joy.
She saw a facet emerge and she stopped to look into a slightly deformed face, a deep yet kind, just too over-friendly smile and two curious, almost over-curious eyes hidden under a few red strands of hair.
The fiery red hair, the greenish clothes, the hump, ,,You're the nice bell-ringer, aren't you?" she asked, seeing how surprised he seemed that she didn't run away for help, preferring Frollo to him.
She saw him turn away for his own sake before he nodded and after a back and forth held out his hand to her, ,,I am Quasimodo pleased to meet you flower lady" he introduced himself and hobbled lightly to the altar with the flowers which he touched gently with his large hands.she couldn't help but giggle at the nickname it was one of the sweet friendly ones and he himself, Quasimodo seemed to be the friendly curiosity personified.
She followed him and crouched beside him to the flowers, ,,You are my savior Quasimodo a quality not everyone has thank you" she thanked him again and tapped him as he didn't quite seem to have heard her but the poor man seemed to be hearing a little more difficult with all the bells anyway.
He looked at her, puzzled, before a wide grin graced his lips and he pulled her into his arms for a sudden but thankful hug, unaware that he already knew she had the flowers with her.
Even if he wouldn't admit it, he had been watching her, but he liked her, she was the reason why he didn't become like his "father", she was like a saint, a light that helped him and for that he was grateful to her until the end of his life. ,,Thank you, you're nice flower girl…tell me, do you like the sun?" he asked after a moment's thought and was already thinking of an idea when his head went to the window.
She nodded and was about to answer when he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him through corridors and passages she had never even heard of, up walls and railings that he carried her up with ease. Before they arrived at a kind of small viewing platform on which they sat down and he gave her Paris from a perspective she didn't think she could love this city any more.
,,That's wonderful, thank you a thousand thanks," she said happily and reached into her hair, which contained a small white daisy, ,,Here for my savior," she said and moved closer to the redhead, whom she clasped the flower to her ear.
She saw him open slightly and giggle before she allowed him to lean his head against her shoulder and her hand went to his, holding them together as they watched the sun rise and rise like feelings between them that, like flowers, grew stronger and more beautiful with each passing day.
A/N: Request for a Disney movie, and I’m sold. I hope you like it!
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When you had first entered Notre Dame to find a safe place from people who had just tried to rob you and stabbed you as you escaped, you had never thought to meet the bell ringer who had only recently been accepted as one of the people of Paris. He still lived in the bell tower - it was his home and everybody loved hearing the bells ringing and it was even more magical now when everybody knew who ringed them.
Quasimodo was loved by people all around Paris. Kids loved playing with him, and he was often one of the most anticipated people attending different parties and festivals. After Frollo had died, the city had truly come alive. Corrupted soldiers had been sent away and the people of Paris - gypsies and other people - could live without fear.
And now you were there, living a peaceful life with a man who had patched you up and let you rest in his bell tower. He had offered you a bed, food, and a bunch of kindness. And you saw something in his heart - something that eventually made you love him. You knew that most people in Paris loved Quasimodo, they had learned that his looks didn’t define how he was as a person - but nobody had ever loved him like you did.
And he loved you like that too, you hadn’t flinched the slightest bit when you had seen his face. You reminded him a bit of Esmeralda, but you were even gentler towards him - and something had just clicked in place in his heart as he had slowly fallen in love with you too.
