she can barely tell he’s got her hair tied up, as her attention was on someone else’s – rosamund’s light hair was even curlier than her mother’s, though a little less voluminous, even if it had to do with the fact she only had a few curls stuck to her scalp, but ones belle brushes lovingly as she hears the baby try to mumble and speak, as if they were capable of having an actual conversation.
however, it is easy to notice when the corset is made looser, the breathing bit not hurting as much as it was – belle still thought it was a bother, fashion. sure, she adored dressing up, but with a stomach still slightly swollen and her breasts sore, she’d much prefer somethig more practical than a robe a la francaise, which didn’t help at all when it came to breastfeeding. plumette said she’d aid her in this, though, and madame garderoube surely must have been working on something easier for her.
but for now, belle returns to the spot on the floor her husband was just a few minutes ago, holding her gown’s top out of the way and pushing her corset down enough so she could present a breast for rosamund to suck on. it takes some time, some fumbling and some pinching and biting, but finally the girl latches on and feeds contently, holding at her mother’s corset’s straps. “come,” belle calls out for her husband, tapping the spot just next to her. “you have become quite the professional at this, mon amour.” she can’t help but to comment with a small smile, recalling vividly how most of her gowns and corsets would be made trash whenever he wasn’t able to control his gifted strength during these first months. reaching with a hand carefully, while another stays under rosamund, belle touches his face, from his cheek to inside his auburn mane, brushing the locks with gentle fingertips.
moving his hands away once he is done, he watches her moving to sit on the floor instead of the armchair, his eyebrows raising with some amusement in his eyes. the corner of his lips curl up and, though he thinks it might be uncomfortable for her to sit there, adam walks close and sits down close to her, a hand resting against the floor, his arm behind her, so he could look at their child being fed.
distracted with the way rosamund holds onto her mother’s corset, he feels the warmth growing on his chest as he lifts his eyes to look at belle’s face, a smile opening on his lips. “it was about time, no? enough of ruining your clothes,” adam doesn’t help the small joking tone, leaning rather unconsciously at her touch, much like he always do. his eyes close for a second as he leans a kiss on her wrist before he looks at her as lovingly as he always does. “mrs. potts said she is a calm child,” adam comments then, tilting his head to observe their daughter, her eyes looking up at belle, chubby hands still gripping firmly on that strap. “that is a good thing, right?”
it’s the same scene as few years back, and even if belle has been trying not to dwell into the past, she still can’t help but to think of these days, when he was a bit more furry and a tad less cuter. of course, noticing such things was quite a task when she had a babe clinging to her straps with one hand while the other touched her free breast, as if trying to acess if the free nipple was a better one or not.
“indeed. time to pass the crown to this little cherubim,” she barely suppresses a giggle – partially because rose’s small nails drag against her skin in a very uncomfortable way, causing the mother to move her shoulders, picking up the child carefully. before she could erupt into a fit, belle skillfully leads her to the other breast, which seems to be good enough for the baby to distract herself with. the little actions only seem to be proof to what her husband says, yet belle tilts her head slightly, prying her eyes from her daughter’s to her husband’s lagoon ones.
“you think? i wouldn’t know.” she had never been around newborn babes until her own arrived, making every milestone for rosamund one for her parents too. “i want to say i would be comforted if she cried a little more, but…” the chuckle leaves her lips now and she shakes her head. “i doubt it. there is time, though. and there are always more children, although maybe that would make her cry. i’m not sure how keen to sharing she is.” it’s kind of difficult to know when it comes to barely six month old little girls.
Be you and embrace your differences as things that make you unique and special. “Different” shouldn’t be considered confusing, negative, or something that divides us. It should be a quality we applaud and admire within ourselves and others.
she closes her eyes at the feel of his lips upon her skin, a very graceful smile covering her own. rosamund loses no opportunity to take advantage of the height difference being broken for seconds, and she latches onto her mother’s hair quickly, although she does not pull it, but rather holds it affectionately – yet enough to keep belle in place, trying her best not to laugh at her daughter’s antics.
“if you’re going for a compliment…” she begins, but stops as she presses her lips together. reaching out for the baby that seems to be wishing she could cling for something other than just hair, belle takes her in her arms for the first time in the day. it always amazes her to touch her girl, to feel her weight and her warmth. belle loved adam with every ounce of her body and would until she drew her dying breath, but with rosamund it’s just something else; the mother smiles too easily, holds her closely. “please do,” the brunette requests, returning to the study room and turning her back to her husband so he could undo the buttons in her back, then the laces in her corset. “she must be hungry, mustn’t she? would you mind terribly if i fed her here?”
he doesn’t move away either, seeing rosamund clinging to her, lips pressed together not to laugh at the scene as he passes the baby to belle. carefully, he pulls her hair away from the child’s reach. adam’s lips curl up at how distracted she looks, always enjoying watching both of his girls together, the way his wife’s eyes seems to sparkle even more at the sight of their child. not one that makes him feel bothered at how distracted she looks, barely noticing him then—he knows way too well how it feels to let their princess take all of their attention.
once she allows him to help, he chuckles lightly, taking off the ribbon holding his auburn locks to tie it on belle’s hair instead, to keep it away from the baby’s hands and not be completely on the way as he works on unbuttoning her cloth to undo the laces on her back, easing how tight it is around her body. “i think so,” adam looks over her shoulder, fingers still working with the laces. “of course not. i will just finish here and…” he gestures with his hand towards his chair once before looking down at what he is doing—not much of a hard work, as he had helped her dress before. once he seems satisfied, judging it as more comfortable, he tilts his head to look at her. “how is this? better?” he questions, hands still holding her cloth while he isn’t buttoning it.
she can barely tell he’s got her hair tied up, as her attention was on someone else’s – rosamund’s light hair was even curlier than her mother’s, though a little less voluminous, even if it had to do with the fact she only had a few curls stuck to her scalp, but ones belle brushes lovingly as she hears the baby try to mumble and speak, as if they were capable of having an actual conversation.
however, it is easy to notice when the corset is made looser, the breathing bit not hurting as much as it was – belle still thought it was a bother, fashion. sure, she adored dressing up, but with a stomach still slightly swollen and her breasts sore, she’d much prefer somethig more practical than a robe a la francaise, which didn’t help at all when it came to breastfeeding. plumette said she’d aid her in this, though, and madame garderoube surely must have been working on something easier for her.
but for now, belle returns to the spot on the floor her husband was just a few minutes ago, holding her gown’s top out of the way and pushing her corset down enough so she could present a breast for rosamund to suck on. it takes some time, some fumbling and some pinching and biting, but finally the girl latches on and feeds contently, holding at her mother’s corset’s straps. “come,” belle calls out for her husband, tapping the spot just next to her. “you have become quite the professional at this, mon amour.” she can’t help but to comment with a small smile, recalling vividly how most of her gowns and corsets would be made trash whenever he wasn’t able to control his gifted strength during these first months. reaching with a hand carefully, while another stays under rosamund, belle touches his face, from his cheek to inside his auburn mane, brushing the locks with gentle fingertips.
she had expected him to display those tell signs of when he’s upset: the turn of his lips downards, the light in his eyes increasing as he tries to find out what he has done. belle knows all of it, and she can not help but to find them the most adorable, even after nearly three years of knowing each other – and she was completely guilty in trying to seek those whenever she had the chance. it was good to keep him on his toes, albeit a little cruel.
but you see, she expects little signs, cute ones – not outright desperate as he shows them. the guilt burns as the hunger and the tight undergarment does, and belle ends up faltering much sooner than she had wanted herself to. her golden eyes flickers from his face to his feet, then back to his face, her fingers anxiously fiddling with one another as just another habit. “adam,” she calls him, a brief glance towards the daughter that clings to him as an exotic species. “i am toying with you.” the brunette confesses, the small smile eventually growing into a bright, childish grin.
“how could i get angry at such considerate gesture, husband? but taking our child and disappearing? a bit too much, don’t you think? i hope you weren’t purposely trying to keep me out of family time.”
his eyes look for hers then, eyebrows furrowing with the way he frowns—of course he should’ve expected her not to be truly mad, but seeing how worried she looked did make him think he had done some really bad. well, not that disappearing in the middle of the morning with their daughter is not exactly one of the best thing he could do anyways. even with the frown, though, he scoffs lightly, looking down at rosamund, who looks up at both of them, that same toothless smile of hers being now sent to belle.
“of course not,” he shakes his head lightly, a lock of his hair escaping from the ribbon and falling on the side of his face. adam opens a kind smile at his wife, carefully reaching down to kiss her temple. “what would be family time if mama isn’t around, right, rosie?” the comment comes with a much kinder voice, as he used did when talking to the baby. his eyes fall on belle once again, eyebrows raising as his looks at her clothes, eyes squinting lightly. “did you dress up yourself?” not helping in asking—not because he doesn’t think she is capable, of course—he lifts his eyes to her face. “it looks uncomfortably tight, more than usual, that is… do you need help with that?”
she closes her eyes at the feel of his lips upon her skin, a very graceful smile covering her own. rosamund loses no opportunity to take advantage of the height difference being broken for seconds, and she latches onto her mother’s hair quickly, although she does not pull it, but rather holds it affectionately – yet enough to keep belle in place, trying her best not to laugh at her daughter’s antics.
“if you’re going for a compliment…” she begins, but stops as she presses her lips together. reaching out for the baby that seems to be wishing she could cling for something other than just hair, belle takes her in her arms for the first time in the day. it always amazes her to touch her girl, to feel her weight and her warmth. belle loved adam with every ounce of her body and would until she drew her dying breath, but with rosamund it’s just something else; the mother smiles too easily, holds her closely. “please do,” the brunette requests, returning to the study room and turning her back to her husband so he could undo the buttons in her back, then the laces in her corset. “she must be hungry, mustn’t she? would you mind terribly if i fed her here?”
“no?” he lies—surely he isn’t watching his tongue or what he says, though he already does regret doing so in front of their daughter. but well, her grip is strong, that no one could deny and he is certain of it. it is just then that he notices how belle looks… worried? desperate? as if she expected something bad to have happened. when this thought crosses his mind he realizes it: she looks like she rushed into dressing to go after them and, then, feels quite bad for causing it.
the corners of his mouth turn down when he barely notices, hearing her scold. carefully and slowly, he stands up to face her better; the baby girl’s arms still reaching up to catch his attention while adam keeps his eyes on his wife. “i… am sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortable and worried that he may have caused her unnecessary stress. mrs. potts did tell him that he should let her rest and take care of her since she announced her pregnancy—it was much harder on her than on him, after all. and he has been trying his best at being a supportive husband and father… and that’s what he thought he was being now.
“i… i just thought you could use some more rest…” barely stuttering over the past few years, he still finds himself doing so now, walking towards her. he’s barefoot—which isn’t much of a surprise, as he took his shoes off at any given oportunity—and his toes curl nervously against the cold floor as he offers to put rosamund on her arms instead. “you looked tired, mon ange… and she was just mumbling and not crying… so i thought i could keep her away while you got some more sleep…”
she had expected him to display those tell signs of when he’s upset: the turn of his lips downards, the light in his eyes increasing as he tries to find out what he has done. belle knows all of it, and she can not help but to find them the most adorable, even after nearly three years of knowing each other – and she was completely guilty in trying to seek those whenever she had the chance. it was good to keep him on his toes, albeit a little cruel.
but you see, she expects little signs, cute ones – not outright desperate as he shows them. the guilt burns as the hunger and the tight undergarment does, and belle ends up faltering much sooner than she had wanted herself to. her golden eyes flickers from his face to his feet, then back to his face, her fingers anxiously fiddling with one another as just another habit. “adam,” she calls him, a brief glance towards the daughter that clings to him as an exotic species. “i am toying with you.” the brunette confesses, the small smile eventually growing into a bright, childish grin.
“how could i get angry at such considerate gesture, husband? but taking our child and disappearing? a bit too much, don’t you think? i hope you weren’t purposely trying to keep me out of family time.”
rosamund’s mumbles to herself were what woke him earlier that morning—and it would be a huge lie to say he could go back to sleep, considering how quiet she was, not bothering to cry. before he noticed, he was standing up, taking a look at the baby and seeing how she smiled brightly at him, toothless. considering she didn’t cry, adam takes a quick look over his shoulder, at his wife, and makes the decision to let her rest a little longer. quickly dressing up on his own instead of disturbing anyone else (that would also take him a lot of time anyways), he pulled his hair back and tied it on the back of his neck, adam was out of the west wing with his baby daughter on his arms.
waving away the offers of help from mrs. potts and the others, the king—barely looking like one at that point, (still) much less responsible than his wife—made his way downstairs and ended up in his study room, sitting on the floor instead of taking his chair. rosamund’s giggles echoed through the room while he makes faces at her, feeling her tiny hands grabbing his nose, or lips. it hasn’t even been a few minutes since he had got there when he hears belle’s voice, lifting up his head towards the door like he was caught doing something he should not be doing—if basically stealing his own daughter from her mother to play with her while said mother rested a bit more should not be done, then yes, he was rebelling.
“play?” he answers confused, looking at her with a childish smile, but frowning lightly when feeling rosamund’s hand grabbing his ear. he complains under his breath, but doesn’t do anything to stop her, still looking at belle and trying to open a smile. “did you sleep well?”
belle wants to say she’s completely shocked, but it would be very wrong. this was not something unusual nor it was something she disliked – it always brought a swell to her heart whenever she saw how adam clung to their child, always willing to hold and care for her, even during situations traditionally he shouldn’t. but there’s a considerably difference when said man takes said child under her mother’s eyes, and when he flees on the middle of the night (she’s being clearly dramatic, you see, it’s way past her waking and feeding time) without even as much as a warning.
she can not help the exasperated sigh, running her hand through her face as if to wake herself better and to make peace with whatever seems to be happening right now. “are you cursing around our child?” she mumbles, without much of the strength she had just now – it evaporated and turned into mush as she found her loved ones were, indeed, all right. “you’re impossible,” she ends up breaking into a chuckle, feeling how her ribs hurt at the action. she should really not dress herself in a hurry anymore.
“i…until you almost frightened to death, yes, in fact. what of yourself? were your dreams so pleasant you decided to play such a prank on your paranoid wife?”
although not one to usually sleep very deeply nor long, these days she can not help but to do just that – mrs. potts told her this was just expected, since belle opted to breastfeed her own child instead of letting a nurse to so. which is not something belle will ever regret it, you see – all it takes is one gaze towards her lovely daughter and all the mother’s energy comes rushing back. the thing is: there is no beautiful face for her to look at, nor mediocre, nor no face, in fact. the brunette blinks the sleep out of her eyes, just to check she isn’t dreaming nor still hazy from the long night of sleep, but she’s not insane: her husband and child really is not there.
belle jumps out of bed and in two minutes she’s already slipping in her corset, skillfully (albeit rather clumsily, due to the nervousness) lacing up and tightening and overall making sure she doesn’t look as if she just slipped out of bed in pure desperation, even if it had been just that – she was a queen now, she couldn’t let the impulsive girl take her by complete now; the tiny bit of her responsible brain is hoping, for all that’s good, that it would appear she has some grace as she descends the stairs, almost completely ignoring anyone who gazes and calls for her.
her ability to breathe only returns to her body when she catches the shade of auburn against the rococos in the walls, and belle could have swore she tighted her corset more than she should because there are tears pricking in her eyes as she lowers her step and takes a very deep breath. until, that is, she approaches enough to see the scene ahead of her. “what on earth are you letting rosamund do to you, jean mathieu?”
a roll of eyes is not helped as he hears her comment, though it is clear he finds it amusing. for someone who said he isn’t much of a talkative person, it feels pretty normal to be like that with her, either when they met and he had the need to argue with her (or make her argue with him, for that matter) or nowadays, when he actually appreciates her company and is probably the person he talked the most, besides lumiere. adam smiles while hearing her story, clearly interested on knowing more about her.
if he is surprised by how she makes herself comfortable on his lap, he doesn’t show it, simply letting his free hand rest on her lower back, eyes never leaving her face. the smile on his own features doesn’t even change, finding it quite adorable the way she shared her memories and even more adorable how her dimples seem deeper when she smiles like that. if he had any doubt of how much he likes seeing her smile, that probably disappears then, at how he has to hold back from touching her cheek. “that sounds nice, though,” he finally manages to comment, the hand on her back caressing her gently, “i suppose not going much to the beach also makes this kind of memory more important, then,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.
looking at her with slight admiration, he moves a bit closer, his intentions clear—he wants to kiss her. it wouldn’t be the first time, considering the pecks they’ve shared before or the brief kisses whenever they were bold enough to make a move on each other, but besides that and the random hands holding and arms around her, that was it. right now, however, adam does feel bold enough to kiss her better, and the way he moves closer with his eyes lowered to her soft lips is obvious how much he wants it. however, the door bell echos through the house and surprises them. he feels his heart racing with the sudden surprise, eyes blinking once in confusion, looking from her lips to her eyes as if it is the first time he’s seeing her that close with so much attention. perhaps it is. clearing his throat and moving away slightly, he gives her a small and embarrassed smile, hand patting her thigh. “food is here,” he comments, sounding quite obvious, and helps her to stand up before he goes to answer the door, barely able to look at her for the following minutes.
the heat spreads through her cheeks faintly, and belle makes herself smile even through the embarrassment so he wouldn’t think much of how she flushes under his gaze. they have done this before – not her on his lap reminiscing about good times, but the approaching, the heart fluttering, the soft press of lips; she doesn’t think she could get used to that, but it’s much easier to act naturally now, and all she can do is to drop her smile and let her golden hued orbs lock onto his lagoon ones.
she can almost feel the scratch of his beard and the plush of his lips, but it’s an almost, of course. belle blinks, hands falling to her own lap as he looks very sheepish, perhaps cursing in his mind as she was. “good,” is all she mutters, standing up as if it was nothing, as if her heart wasn’t racing and bumping loudly against her rib cage. if he allows himself to be daft for a few minutes, it could pass as hunger.
and well, it wouldn’t be completely wrong. the minute he brings the food and places on the table, undoing the lid, she can feel her mouth water immediately. over these last months, belle had, surprisingly, found plenty of things she liked doing with adam, and eating was definitely one of those: as much of a snob he may seem like, he didn’t shy away from food, and the french in him was strong – meaning they always had more food than they could handle; or rather, that others could handle. belle is still to not being able to finish all the plates and dessert they always get.
she doesn’t sit before putting the ice cream on the freezer, but when she does, boy, it is difficult to make her mind. he has ordered a combo with various types of seafood, not to mention the spicy grabs. she decides to begin with those, and she’s definitely amused as she digs her hands between the spicy sauce and starts pulling at the thing. “have you ever eaten this?” for some reason, she couldn’t picture him picking at crabs and shrimps and mussels with his own hands. “i am quite good at this, actually,” belle can not help but to gloat playfully, raising her eyebrows as she takes a small chuck of spicy crab meat and hands it up towards his mouth.
“close your eyes,” the brunette demands, before reaching forward to put her lips over his instead, seconds before pressing the meat to his mouth with a quiet giggle. “so, how’s it?”
his eyebrows raise in surprise with her sudden move, barely having time to take the frame away from her (he was still taking a better look at it!). “i was not insulting, you know, it was just an observation,” his tone is quite calm when he shrugs, arm resting on her desk then, head on his palm. such a contrast of what their friends were doing, but enough to take his mind out of it and be able to ignore.
make small talk when other people are fucking just a few walls away (and loud enough) is clearly harder than he thought it would be—at least with this one. in common situations, adam wouldn’t bother to remain quiet, but he doesn’t want to let them doing so, as the noises would just be more disturbing and make it more awkward.
“i told you, i am bored,” he points out, a snort and roll of eyes coming right after. he straights up a little, only to lean his back against the chair, a leg crossing and resting over the other. “do you think you’re interesting?” the question comes instead, his eyes finally looking away from her, looking around the room. “i would not say i find you interesting, but,” he starts again, considering what he observes, “i can say you may make me slightly curious sometimes. talk about a difficult girl to read,” he gestures towards her randomly, frowning. “besides, plumette told me to be nice with you, i’m not sure what she meant with that. i’m always nice,” he comments, clearly sarcastic—of course he knows he is not nice, he does it on purpose, after all.
she supposes the line is too thin for her to wrap her mind about either he’s teasing her or not, and it was much easier to just accept it as so; while her shoulders fall for a moment, she soon regains her grace and the furrow of her brows. what was it to her if he was bored? belle took this sheltering as a good gesture enough, especially for someone like him who certainly couldn’t stand her as much as she couldn’t stand him – especially when he was finding himself so cozy in her room, as if it was his own or, worse, his property (she had found that boys like him love to claim things, and she may have jumped right into conclusions already).
she does not help, nor does she want, the roll of her eyes at the way he tosses around her words. “and i suppose i should be flattered you are interested?” she shoots right back, arching a brow. needless to say, she was not flattered, nor interested on this push and pull that, could be intellectually amusing sometimes, but, right now, when their friends were loudly fucking on the next room, was more of an annoyance. to have this man breathing, speaking and mocking by her side on a moment she wanted nothing but to dive her head into her pillow was the least she wanted to deal with.
“truly,
vous putain de
glinda,” she rolls her eyes once more, letting out a small sigh of exasperation as she tries her best to get distracted by the reading in her phone rather than on this endless bickering. “you’d think a person such as yourself would have a better time with other people easier to read, but no, here are you, in my bedroom, being somehow forced to listen to live sex by the side of a difficult person. what a tricky thing that is luck.”
