It seemed like a day just like any other day in the poor, provincial town. The baker baked; the weaver wove; the merchants sold their wares on the streets, shouting and bartering at the top of their lungs. People went about their business, bustling up and down the street, bringing the village to life in the late hours of the morning.

Little did they know, however, that today was not like any other day.

A petite young woman, no older than fifteen or sixteen, with skin as pale as fresh milk and soft auburn curls that bounced lightly as she walked, made her way through the town center with a basket on her arm. Her chestnut eyes were flanked by dark, thick lashes, and her high cheekbones accentuated her youthful face in a way that would make any noblewoman seethe with jealousy. Her rosy pink lips, round and plump like a juicy peach, pursed as she walked; she was lost in thought, an oblivious expression glazing over her features as she indeliberately ignored the stares of those around her. One by one, onlookers went silent as the beautiful newcomer passed, eyes widening and mouths agape. Soon enough, the entire street was quiet, the only sound remaining the padding of her footsteps on the cobblestone as she headed towards the bookshop. A group of women nearby huddled in together to gossip amongst themselves.

There was only one person in town who dared to be the first to approach a beauty such as her.

The young woman was cut off at the door to the bookshop by the massive, looming figure of a man; he leaned his side against the wall to block her path. Startled, the girl looked up at him with wide, doe eyes.

Compared to herself, the man was enormously bulky, with muscular arms and legs as thick as tree trunks. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a light smattering of fine chest hairs. His dark locks were pulled back with a ribbon, and his striking blue eyes glinted with mirth as he stared the smaller woman down. She had to admit to herself that he was rather handsome.

"New in town?" He boomed in a baritone voice that reverberated through the air, flashing her a blinding smile. The girl's eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Why, yes, I am." She laughed affably, nervously. "Hello."

"I'm Gaston," the man bellowed, flexing a bicep. "I'm sort of a big deal around here. A local celebrity, if you will. Best shot in town."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm a hunter," Gaston clarified, waggling his eyebrows. "I can kill, skin, and gut anything. Can even take down a 47-point buck with a slingshot– blindfolded."

Where Gaston expected to be met with praise, there was none; the girl only reeled slightly with disgust, but recovered.

"My name is Belle," she curtsied, turning her chin downward and back up again. "My father's an inventor. He and I just moved here from–"

"Ah, Belle," the hunter interrupted. He enjoyed the way her name rolled off of his tongue. He also enjoyed the way her modest yet perky breasts strained against the fabric of her dress as she breathed. "Means 'beauty.'"

"Yes, it does," Belle replied patiently, although her patience was wearing thin. Something about this man…

The woman's face wavered slightly but she still forced a polite smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Gaston, but I'm afraid I must be going–"

She attempted to step around the hunter but was halted by his arm across the doorframe.

"Where's the fire, Belle?" Gaston laughed; a deep, belly laugh that rattled the bell above the bookshop's door. It made Belle uneasy.

"I'm sorry, I really must be going." Belle pushed her way past the man and ducked under his arm. "Goodbye, Gaston."

Before he could respond, she had disappeared into the shop.

"Who was that?" a voice croaked suddenly. A stout little man had appeared beside Gaston, and he jabbed his thumb in the direction the woman had gone.

"That, LeFou, is the inventor's daughter," Gaston mused dreamily. "Belle. She's gorgeous. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

He then picked up the smaller man and swung him around excitedly, ignoring his shrill cries of protests. When he set him down, LeFou angrily brushed at his lapels and straightened his coat.

Gaston's eyes glinted with mischief; he loved a new challenge.

She would be his wife someday.

Shaking off her odd first meeting with the man named Gaston, Belle made her way into the bookshop. The brass bell above the door tinkled her arrival, and the exuberant old man behind the counter appeared instantaneously overjoyed to have a customer; he practically jumped over the counter in his hurry to get to her.

"Well, what a pretty one you are! In all my years…" the man shook his head. "What brings you in today, miss? Picking up something for your brother? Or father, perhaps?"

Belle shook her head; she was accustomed to such sexist questions. "Non, m'sieur. I'm looking for something for myself, actually, but I was wondering if–"

"Ah, perhaps a light romance for the young lady!" the elderly man began to lead her over to a shelf covered with dusty, leather-bound volumes. Belle shook her head again.

"Actually, my father and I just moved here, and I was wondering if this town has a library?"

The man froze, the gears in his brain processing her question.

"A library?" His voice was small.

"Yes." Belle shuffled nervously on her feet. "I'm afraid I don't have any money."

The shopkeeper seemed to think for a moment. Suddenly, he threw his arms up high, splaying out his hands in a gesture that Belle couldn't interpret. He was definitely an eccentric man.

"Feel free to borrow anything you'd like. No charge."

Belle gasped at his generous offer. "Goodness, m'sieur, I couldn't ask that of you."

"For a beautiful girl such as you, it is no trouble," the elderly man took her hand then and kissed the back of her palm, giving her a wink from behind his spectacles. "It's not as though people are lining up at the door to purchase my wares in this day and age."

His words rang true; Belle could tell from glancing around that the store had been devoid of any patrons for quite some time.

"Thank you, monsieur. You're too kind."

His brown, wrinkle-ringed eyes twinkled at her and the young woman smiled.

Maybe living in this poor, provincial town wouldn't be as bad as she thought. Even her interaction with Gaston hadn't been altogether unpleasant; he seemed friendly enough, anyway. It made Belle optimistic about the direction her life was heading for the first time in a long time.

Okay, I can't stay away– I had so much fun writing Belle and Gaston I had to do another one. A super smutty one, but still a romance. And I promise updates are still coming for my other fics this summer! Stay tuned.