Thank you for reading this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews. I really appreciate them.

If Bubbles asked him to dance while doing a handstand and juggling stones with his feet, Boomer knew he would do it, somehow. If she asked him to give her a thousand-and-one roses, he would do it in a heartbeat. Some may think Boomer to be wrapped around Bubbles' pretty little finger, and maybe he was. He'd never fallen in love with a woman like this before.

Though he would never willingly discuss or admit it to Bubbles, Boomer had his fair share of relationships in his young life. They were never serious, mere lust or jobs compared to the feelings of affection he had for Bubbles. Either way, he was sure he'd had a laundry list of women he'd been involved with compared to his brothers. Brick seemingly avoided the female race like the plauge, and Butch was the awkward romantic who never got over his green-eyed childhood crush.

The first girl he ever kissed was a local in the district. As far as the Underground went, her family was quite well off, associates of Mojo Jojo, Boomer could even say that he somewhat grew up with the girl. All three brothers did, but for some reason she drifted more so to being only Boomer's friend. She barely spoke to Brick and Butch, not like they cared. They probably don't even remember the girl.

He was nearly thirteen, freshly splattered with the blood of a man he'd never met before, it was not the first time he'd killed someone. Maybe the hundredth, he never kept count anymore, but the act still made him cringe after.

Maybe because he thought of his father and his poor mother.

He hadn't even changed clothes yet when she knocked lightly on the door, she opened it before he could ask whoever it was to wait. That girl, she was his fragile friend. A kid who understood what his nightmares were about. A girl who was always somewhat sickly, quiet, reserved, and only a couple of months younger. Easily dismissed as a weak girl.

The only time she ever came to his door and entered his room was for tender kisses shared by young and naive friends.

He knew that all she wanted was comfort, a taste of intimacy. She asked it from him because she knew he could not say no. "I should at least have one kiss before I go. You'll grant me that, right Boomer?" With him, one kiss turned into two. Two turned into ten. Small presses of lips on lips, foreheads. Again, Boomer stopped keeping count.

She died a little less than a year later. It took him a month after to get used to not expecting her knock on his door. Sometimes, he finds himself forgetting her name, and even her eyes but her lips always stay. The image of her is a blank brunette doll with no features other than small cracked lips.

It's as if she's haunted. The feel of her cold, practically dead lips pressing against his skin is something he cannot forget, no matter how much he wanted to as that doll visits his dreams.

The second girl, well she would be better described as a devil, an experienced one. He was sixteen, she was two years older. She was an enemy, a hired killer that HIM favored and she had some of HIM's main men in the palms of her hands. She ruled them with her violence and psychological torture, and manipulated them with her body. Young but experienced, the men devoured her as she would howl in glee. She was a sadistic bitch, but he had a mission. He needed information and she just so happened to be looking for her next toy.

Boomer would admit that he learned a lot from her. He learned things he would hopefully never use of another person. Unluckily for her, her manipulation did not work. She thought of herself as a killer, a vixen who had nearly the whole world under her feet. Poison was what she liked to use the most. She loved the way it slowly ate away people. She thought she was untouchable, but Boomer showed her what it really meant to kill another person.

She thought she had Boomer trapped, and kissed him with lips that had kissed a thousand men. The Kiss of Death, she called it. Her poison-laced lips took his and betrayed the sinister smile she hid, not knowing of his poison immunity. He thanked Mojo for the poison training his guardian subjected him to since young.

He remembered how he choked on blood at the age of six, the slow-acting poison he was given every couple of days bubbled in his throat as he swallowed. Bitter and metallic. It tasted like her lips.

He had gotten what he needed from her. She no longer had any use. She didn't know he'd given her a deadly kiss of his own. His own special cocktail met her tongue and by then it was too late for her. Even if she had an antidote to his wicked brew, she would not have been able to take it in time.

Boomer remembers how she shoved him away hard and spitefully spat her bloody spit at him, the rage in her beautiful pale hazel eyes made his heart thump with delight. The way she clawed at her throat and screamed made him laugh. Belly moving laughs that drowned out her voice, her screams. Maybe he too, was a sadistic bitch.

The other women in his past were merely for releasing frustration. They were there so he could forget the nightmares, the pain, the anger. He never loved any of those women, he did not feel like romance was worth anything. Every kiss, every touch was for a purpose, but that purpose was not love. It was duty, sympathy, frustration. Never enjoyable unless he got something out of it. You could call him a playboy, a womanizer, he did not care. Bubbles though, he had a feeling would care and that scared the hell out of him.

"Are you alright, love?"

She'd stuck that endearing term to everything she said to him since that day. Ordained as her love, did something to him. It made him gleeful, it made him bashful. It made him feel like life would be fine from now on.

"Ah, yes. I am fine. My love."

He'd always say it back, though timid and reserved. Never as smoothly as he would like, never the way it played out in his head.

She looked up at him, scrutinizing his features as if to get a glimpse at what plagued his mind. Boomer hoped she didn't find out. Not now.

"Are you sure? Your head seems to be elsewhere. Do you need some time alone?"

That was the last thing he wanted, whether he needed it or not. He didn't want his personal struggles to affect her even though in a way they were about her.

"I'm all right, Bubs. Why don't we take a walk to the north garden?"

This time her eyes turned sharp. Though she looked up at him no differently, the feeling of her eyes as they roamed his face felt sharp, alert, possibly even concerned as she murmured, "We just came from the north garden."

Ah, indeed they had. It somehow slipped his mind that they'd just left that place and planned to get ready for dinner. He was walking her to her room, at least that's what he was supposed to be doing.

"Let me get you to your room so you can get ready for dinner. Butch won't hesitate to eat our share." He needed to get it together.

"Buttercup won't let him do that, he listens to her." She joked and reached to clasp their hands together.

The warmth of her hand kept his thoughts on track and he dropped her at her door without any more distractions.

Dinner started as normal, Esmond was the first to the table, early and excited to eat whatever Buttercup made today. When it was her day to cook, he would always get there early with hopes of getting an extra bit of whatever she was serving. Brick's food was a close second. For all of Brick's blandness, Esmond had to admit he was a fine cook. His dishes were nowhere near as stale as his personality sometimes was.

He took his normal seat at the edge of the old rectangular table and whined when Butch appeared and decided to sit next to him. Pushing at Butch's shoulder lightly he groaned at his parental figure.

"Mums gonna sit next to me, you're sitting in her seat."

Butch scoffed and swatted at his hand. "It's just a chair, don't get riled up."

Esmond pushed even harder, " This is my seat and that is her's. As always. Move." The tone of his voice proved that he was indeed "riled up".

The green-eyed bastard (as Esmond thought in that specific moment) shrugged him away again and huffed. Leaning his head on his arm, he fixed a pointed look at the young king.

"Is that anyway to speak to your father, little king?"

Butch stressing the "father" title, made him happy. He said it himself, that he was Esmond's father, no taking it back now. It was the "little king" bit that got to him.

The only person who could get away with calling him that was his mum. From her, it would be endearing, from his father it was just embarrassing.

"You're trying to irritate me, aren't you? Spite? Revenge? Surely you can do better than that. How can mum fall for such an immature man?"

Butch didn't seem fazed in the slightest. The grin that spread on his lips made Esmond want to run to Buttercup and ask her to shut her partner up.

Running to mum to tell on dad, childish but effective, Esmond decided to keep it in mind for the future.

"The same way she can care for such a mischievous boy."

"I'm a kid, what's your excuse?" Esmond tilted his head in question. His once neat curls now fell over his glimmering eyes. The picture of innocence as the Brick and Blossom walked into the room.

Just as Butch was about to retort, Blossom said her greetings as Brick sat next to her. They sat closer than normal, and Blossom's smile made the room feel a little less fiery.

Buttercup, Bubbles, and Boomer walked in the dishes Esmond dreamed of at night shortly after, and as Buttercup put the final plate down, she looked over the brunettes at the table.

"Scoot one chair over Butch, you're in my seat."

Esmond almost fell over in laughter with a shaky, "I told you so." directed at his father.

With a grumble, he did what he was asked as Buttercup sat between the two. Sandwiched between them, she knew they wouldn't be able to tease each other without fear of peeving her off.

Either way, it felt right to her, sitting between them. It felt like that was her place. Her spot to be cherished, and lovingly pestered by her family.

When she was younger, around fourteen, she'd idly thought of what her family would look like in the future. She'd convinced herself that her and sisters would be stuck in that palace, in that god forbidden wing of Hell forever.

She wouldn't get the chance to create a family. Falling in love and having children was not an option for her. A part of her, at that time, prayed that she would not have a child for fear that they would suffer the same fate as her.

A little girl with her green eyes, stuck as a concubine. Men eyeing her and sharing their perverse fantasies with a young preubescent child as the shining star. A girl who would lose her innocence.

A young boy with her curly black locks slaving away in a war camp to be brutally trained as one extra pawn for HIM to control. A broken soul just waiting to be granted a grim and somber release of life, knowing that would be the only way to be truly free in a country ruled by a devil.

Regins, that man that took her and sisters out of the Underground and away from their father into the belly of the beast told them that they would be the last Utoniums to suffer.

Their kin would have no ties to HIM, freedom like any other citizen, but all three sisters knew that was bullshit. They tried to believe it, at times she was sure that they did believe it. A silly hope.

Her sisters would giggle at the thought of little babies. Bubbles would fancy a young solider, a killer but handsome all the same, and sigh about how his pale brown eyes would look so soft and charming on a child that shared her face.

She would try to spot him with her shining blue eyes from a window. Her mind would fill with fantasies before reality crashed down on her.

Buttercup never did giggle or sigh, but once she dreamt of a child screaming for her. Face dirtied with what she knew to be her own blood and tears, that child clung to her broken and used body as they sobbed. Heart rattling, teeth clenching sobs and bubbled in-between ear piercing screams.

She never got a good look at the child, its features so indistinguishable she couldn't even tell if it was a boy or girl. A part of her was glad she didn't know.

Her mind wondered back to Regins. A man now dead, in the earth for some years Buttercup realized not too long ago that Regins was the first person she ever truly grew to hate.

As much as the Underground hurt her as a child, she never hated any of the people that did her and her sister wrong. They got their recompense with a dagger to the chest. Instant payment. There was nothing to stew over, that was just the Underground functioning the way HIM ordained it to be.

With Regins though, she never got payment. Never got anything from that coward.

Hartford Regins, the Utonium sisters' maternal great uncle by marriage. The greatest backstabbing, weak, sonofabitch Buttercup had ever met. He married their mother's Aunt, Janet Keene Bellum, and Buttercup knew he was undeserving of Janet's love.

Their father would say that Janet Keene was the sweetest, most mothering person he'd ever met. A natural born teacher, she'd been the one that encouraged him to keep pursuing science. She taught him things he could only dream of learning, and guided him with a loving hand.

When she died of an illness he'd never seen before, right after Sarah found out she was pregnant, John cried almost as hard as he did when he lost his mother.

The Bellum Household was a house of power, once upon a time. Lustrious and brimming with grandfathered authority, they fell from glory before HIM came to power.

They had nothing to their name, nothing but their beautiful faces and a hand in the shady dealings of a new tyrannical king. Sarah Bellum was offered as a trophy, a vote of assurance that the Bellum bloodline would not be put down. Janet screamed and cried, she pleaded that she'd be the one taken instead.

She offered her body, her offered her knowledge, she offered her life. She pleaded every second of every day. It

It did not work though, Herald took his trophy and purged what was of no use to him. He left only Sarah, Regins, and Janet alive. Buttercup believes this caused Janet to doe of a broken-heart rather than an unknown disease.

When his life was threatened once more, Regin tucked tail and gave the king the only thing he knew would keep him one trophy, but three. Counsilman Regins secured his fate. Buttercup wished he could kill him ten times over.

She remembered how the man looked at them the first time they met. He had the gall to look upon her and sisters with kind eyes. He had the audacity to feign concern.

Even if he ever loved them, Buttercup did not care. She wanted his head on a spike and his heart beneath her feet. She almost wanted to desecrate his grave, believing that he did not deserve to rest peacefully.

Her mother, surely looked down in horror of what her family had done. Her lone clansman, selling her children for a pass in life.

"Pass the potatoes, please Esmond." Blossom's pleasant call, stirred Buttercup out of her thoughts.

"Yes, Aunty." He placed the dish closer to her and Blossom mumbled her thanks as she swiped the beets from Brick's plate, knowing he wouldn't eat them without glaring at them and then stabbing them to mush first.

He pushed his plate closer to make it easier for her as he sighed in relief.

"Oi! Boomer, stop hogging the turkey! That's meant to feed more than just you!" Butch rumbled from beside her. Jumping forward he attempted to snatch one of the four turkey legs Boomer had not-so-sneakliy put on his plate.

"It's mine! Bubbles gave me her share. Stop it, I'll bite you, you know I will!" Boomer blocked Butch's hand with his fork and scooted back with his plate in hand, twisting away from his brother.

Brick sighed, and rubbed his temple, attempting to ward off an incoming headache, "Must you fight? We aren't struggling for food anymore you know."

"Doesn't mean Boomer has to be such a glut!"

The blonde gasped, a dramatic look of hurt on his face, "Did you just glut shame me?!"

Butch scoffed and grabbed the nearest butter knife, pointing at his brother he accused, "Yer being a gluttonous bastard!"

Bubbles huffed under her breath, "Says the one who ate three whole loafs of bread yesterday."

Boomer snickered and waved one of his turkey legs in amusement.

Butch growled, "They were gonna go bad anyway Blondie."

The rest of the table, minus Brick, laughed at the antics of the two brothers.

Buttercup decided that instead cursing the family that was dead, she would enjoy her family that was alive. Here with them in this moment, she was happy.

Esmond wasn't happy. In fact, he was rather irritated. He never knew shopping with his aunts could be so...draining. So repetitive, and entailing entirely way too much walking. He was sure his feet were going to fall off before he even got home.

Everything they -namely Blossom and Bubbles- were looking at, prodding, and oohing and aahing at could have been chosen and ordered from a catalog and personally brought to the Jojo Estate and sent back if not needed.

His arms felt like mush and he could barely keep the oversized canvas bags they threw at him from dragging on the ground. They decided that it was too much work to fetch the carriage to hold their things every time they went to the store, he told the driver to be on standby anyway.

One more block and his arms would be finally free. Just a couple more minutes.

He was hot, sweaty, and entirely done with scouring all four districts for bloody dresses.

His aunts didn't even care about his opinion, at least that's what his weary mind was telling him.

"Es, what do you think of this color? I like the shade of this one...I'll get this one."

Esmond fucking hated that shade of yellow. It was the worst one Bubbles could have possibly picked, a dark and rotten-looking color. It did not go well at all with her golden hair and he would have said it too if he could get a word in.

At this point, the whole day felt like some sick torture. Revenge for his childish actions earlier in the week, surely.

He looked to his mum for salvation, but she looked worse off than him. Her hair that was once combed and neat in a prim pinned bun now trailed down her back in messy curls, frizzy from the humidity.

Her eyes looked pained and tired, Esmond swore he saw her fighting back tears earlier when her sisters insisted she tried on a pair of neck-breaking shoes. He never knew shoes with heels that high could be made.

Buttercup trudged alongside him, gripping her own bags filled with things she didn't buy for herself. An ornate scabbard for Butch, cufflinks for Esmond, some book Boomer said he wanted some time back, jewelry for her sisters, and wine for Brick among a plethora of other knick-knacks and items.

She tried not to stagger her steps, she tried not to complain. Her and her sisters never got to experience such a shopping spree. Never had such freedom to go wherever they wanted and buy whatever they wanted. So she shouldn't complain. She wouldn't, couldn't.

She wanted them to be happy...but not as she stayed miserable. A seige on the Capital didn't take this much out of her. If she could she would go spend her day at a war camp in the mountains rather than dealing with her sisters' strange stamina.

Both Buttercup and Esmond wondered why they didn't just stay home. She was ready to go home and soak her throbbing feet. He was ready to crawl into his bed at the Jojo Estate and pass out till the morning.

"Mum, I want to go home. Please." A king asking his mother to go home, what a sight.

"I do too, Es. I do too." She croaked as they tried their hardest to keep up with the two sisters in front of them.

"Can we tell them to call it a day? I'm about to fall over. You'll have to carry me." His voice came out in a ghostly whine.

"I'll carry you on my back, then we'll both tumble to the ground. Won't your people find that strange?"

"Our people would find it strange. Always as strange as the fact that I didn't bring servants to accompany us. This shit is heavy."

"Language, Es. You pick up too many habits from your aunt."

"Ah, no I think I get it from dad. He curses more than you think."

Buttercup scoffed,"He shouldn't say such words in front of you. Should I go yell at him?"

Esmond summoned enough energy to laugh, "I'm almost fourteen. My birthday is next month, I'm almost a ma-"

"Fourteen is not "almost a man" Esmond. You still have many more years to enjoy as a kid, in my eyes." Her eyes were scrunched up in what some may see as irritation, and she'd glanced her narrowed eyes at him.

"You may be strangely tall for your age, but you're still young.

Esmond caught her silent message.

"You're still my boy."

Esmond lowered his head as he smiled, it seems he was stuck as his mum's little boy for a bit longer.

He knew that the Utonium sisters and the Jojo brothers did not have the luxury of simply being a kid. Neither did Esmond, honestly. He was a King, not just a boy, but Buttercup wanted him to know peace, freedom.

Esmond was happy.

Bubbles was ecstatic. She'd shopped and dined to her heart's content a couple of weeks back, and today Boomer had made special plans.

"Are you ready to go Bubs?" Boomer asked as he offered his arm to her.

As she looped her own arm through, she smiled up at him. A dazzling, Bubbles' trademarked smile that made her cheeks hurt.

"Yes! I'm so excited, I could faint." She had a bounce in her step as they walked towards the carriage that waited for them in front of the main door to the estate.

"Well, I sure hope you don't faint, but I did plan something pretty amazing. Not to brag." The excitement in his voice was clear, and Bubbles all but leaped into the carriage.

"Brag away, I love listening to you brag. I love listening to your voice." Bubbles laughed at herself, that was the most sickeningly sweet she'd said to him all day.

It wouldn't be the last.

As sites of the district passed them by, Boomer clasped his hands with her's as he sat next to her. He would point out the window and make an observation or two, tell a joke, or even sing a song.

She hadn't a clue how long they'd been sitting there before he went quiet. Most likely lingering in his thoughts like last time. His eyes got distant, his breathing deep.

Whatever he was thinking about made him concerned.

Squeezing his hand lightly and rubbing small circles on his palm, she spoke, "Whatcha thinking about Boom? Penny for your thoughts?"

He glanced down at her and smiled, a soft one that didn't reach his eyes.

"Would you think me to be strange... if I said I've lusted but never loved, before you? That I, sought bodies and never a heart?"

He sighed and looked away from her, seemingly upset with himself.

"I was no better than those men who wanted you in their bed."

If Bubbles didn't know any better, she would think he'd start to cry soon if she didn't say anything.

"Ah, no. No, no, no. Boomer, you're nothing like them. You love me, you care for me. You treat me as if the ground I walk on is gold, and I love you." Bubbles rubbed his arm in an attempt to sooth him.

"Do you not care about what I-"

Bubbles squeezed his hand once again before her hand traveled to his thigh. Ghosting her fingers over the fabric of his pants, she looked him in his eyes.

Her fingers were even more dangerous than her gaze, he couldn't move. She wouldn't let him.

He tried to turn his head away, but she guided it back gently with her other hand.

"You have needs Boomer, and so do I. I will fulfill your needs, and you will fulfill mine. Your body...and heart are mine now."

Her fingers dig deeper into his thigh, "You have me now."

He swallowed thickly, the look in her eyes told him a number of things. Things that needed a bit more room then a carriage bench.

"Yes, I do." He reached a hand to caress her face.

"Do need me now?" She whispered, the smile on her lips was the most sinful thing he'd ever seen, and he'd seen much.

"Yes. Yes, I do." He mumbled in answer as he leaned in and captured her lips. A kiss worth a thousand, a real kiss of death.

She would be the death of him.

They were quiet despite the passion. Never going too far, it was breath-stealing kiss after kiss, presses of lips to a warm neck, a touch to the chest, a hand through blonde hair.

When they finally reached their destination; a decorated lunch in a valley in his home district, Bubbles' face was flushed and Boomer looked a bit askew.

They enjoyed their lunch, and made it home right after dinner. Boomer warned his brothers and Esmond-who always seemed to be here- to not come to his room lest they wished for his furious revenge.

Boomer swore he heard the young king laugh.

"Looks like I'm gonna win that bet after all."

Bubbles and Boomer are definitely the more...passionate ones. Poor Buttercup and Esmond, they really don't care for shopping. Again, I hope you guess like the chapter. Let me know what you guys think! A wedding may, or may not happen in the next chapter. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes someone with a baby carriage.