#I will try to post the next chapter soonish as i finished the first round of editing for that chapter

[plasticfangtastic]

American royalty Ch. 11

A Homelander x F! reader/dadlander fic

A/N I really have no excuse for such delay but I hope y'all like this chapter, i'm really sorry for the delay, there's only 2 chapters left + the epilogue-- if y'all like to get in the taglist plz drop a request.

tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Eleven

Planning

The cameras were everywhere, there wouldn’t be a second of this wedding that wasn’t being immortalized, every moment under intense scrutiny and bright lights, a trio of stylists following your every step, to ensure your hair, make-up and dress were in perfect condition at all times.

As you caught a breather you thought back to the build-up and the nonsense as you hid from a steamer.

The wedding planning had been an interesting endeavor from which you were almost entirely removed from the equation. 

From the second he’d made his plans known to Ashley and the board, he had taken complete control of planning, there wasn’t an aspect of the early wedding stages that you took charge of… heck you hadn’t even been aware such plans were in motion even after moving in together, until a wedding planner’s assistant came over after being unable to get in contact with Homelander– He didn’t apologize, brushing it off as your failure to pay attention, as if he had mentioned it at all. 

“I love you but you don’t have the best taste… and I can’t risk bad decisions ruining my wedding! What if your wine choice doesn't match the amuse-bouche? I can’t risk a disaster!”

“YOU DON’T EVEN DRINK!!” You shouted– and excuse me… why would you pick the menu!? I’m a chef! You barely eat!”

“I was gonna hire a sommelier… but… you can take care of the menu if it means so much to you” He says bitterly, trying to not sook– "I’ll pick the cake.”

“It’s my wedding too. We pick the cake, John.” You argued back.

“Our fake wedding.” He raised his eyebrow– "Why should you stress yourself…?”

“You…!” You bit your lip until it almost tore– whatever… I don’t want to talk about it today.”

He watched you walk out the terrace, angry at himself for wanting to chase after you but to him you were in the wrong and he had no need to apologize.

That night he woke you up– not that you had been sleeping much.

“Are you still mad at me?”

His weight sunk heavily on the soft mattress, you turned around slightly to meet his featureless shape.

“You have this incredible superpower to piss me off whenever things are going smoothly between us.” You growled almost– go back to bed, John. I don’t want to talk ‘bout it today.”

“It's tomorrow.”

You sighed loudly.

“You should’ve told me you were doing this… fake or not… is still my wedding too.”

“I’m sorry…” He sank next to you wrapping his thin arms around you– marrying you means more than you can ever imagine… is all I ever wanted… getting married… so I want it to be perfect.”

He mumbles against your back, god knows if he heard your heart rate spike and you don’t want him to tell you, if he heard the blood rushing towards your face as your whole body began to boil around him.

You let him hold you even after dawn came.

He promised to include you from that point on but from venues, to flowers, to the guess he continued to make most decisions without you.

This was his wedding and everything had to be perfect. 

Leaving you feeling like you were gonna be just a special guest on his day.

Admittedly you’d never imagined you would get the opportunity to see him grieve over various shades of off-white, china plates and glassware that weren’t perfect but almost perfect so they were the worst thing on the whole planet– there was some karma in the universe left after all.

It’d taken a couple hours for the three wedding planners and Ashley when this whole thing began to accept that you might be the ‘bride’ but if he could be the one walking down the aisle– he fucking would.  They almost felt sorry he hadn’t told you, but they had their hands fuller than yours… it had been a mercy to have been spared as much as you did, they thought. 

Cursing as you came to inspect the tenth different flower arrangement suggestion for the ceremony seats on the table, a whole team of graphic designers were tasked with the wedding cards and such based on the spread around you– god knew how painful it was to look at the budget for wedding favors… now you wished he had been the one doing this whole thing alone, it was exhausting… more than anticipated.

Thank god Ashley had to arrange the televising… the words pay-per-view thrown out a couple times had you on edge…certainly people wouldn’t pay to watch you get married… well see Homelander get married, right?

During your contributions you learned jokes were deadly in this department, a single joke about getting japanese wagyu had him snapping his fingers to get Ashley to source enough of it for the rather extensive list of guests.

“Why is Prince William and Kate on the list?” You said rather bemused.

The wedding planners and other suits looked away from you, the Seven’s table was filled with pictures of guests and silverware samples.

“Same reason the president was invited.” He fiddled with some demitasse spoon samples.

“That answers nothing.” you looked at your side, it was small, just coworkers and the few friends that had clung past your misfortune, your parents had called you wishing to reconcile and meet the granddaughter they’ve abandoned, something you shut down quite easily– I understand why you would invite the president… but please tell me you’re joking about the Kardashian’s… Celine Dion…? What’s next, Blackpink?”

“Why don’t you give me some suggestions? Not that I can invite Jisoo… she would take the spotlight from me.” Between the politicians, A-list celebs and business men invited, you did come short, so he raised his eyebrow daring you to affect the feng-shui as you wrote down a name– William.”

Homelander grinded his teeth– It didn't sound like a joke.

“He’s not going to show up” You said casually trying to calm him down as he twisted a nice silver fork into a twig.

He expected you not to joke about it at all.

It hadn’t been difficult for Butcher to find Ryan… it was already online for the whole world to know– he watched the kid from afar showing up randomly after school to watch Ryan be picked up by his personal driver and security guard, somedays Ryan looked mopey, some others he looked cheery. He was alive and healthy, acting like any other kid as he always should’ve had, it would be for short minutes, but Butcher needed to make sure he was alright… that he was still that same sweet kid from before.

Driving back home, he moved to change the station, his mind thinking of his former stepson as he talked to a girl while waiting to be picked up, proud of the little guy.

“Are you a pedo?”

Butcher almost swerved into a group of pedestrians.

Helena snickered as the car steadied itself, she put her seatbelt as the man forced his breath still.

“Why do you like staring at little kids? Or are you staring at one kid in particular… a little boy called Ryan Gillman, perhaps?”

“Who the fuck are you!?” He screamed with an extra gruff voice, his car still moving– slower than his heartbeat.

“Helena. Nice to meet ya– now if you go down that street and then take a left we can go get something to eat– it’ll be a nice thing to do after all you kidnapped me.” 

“Get out of my car!? How did you get in!?” Butcher stopped his car by the nearest sidewalk, as he reached for the door his hand clashed against a rippling pale blue wall.

“I could crush your skull against that window before you managed to open that door.” Her eyes glistened as the wall narrowed, she watched him with the same intensity a child sees an ant under a magnifying glass– now let’s talk ‘Candlestick maker’ preferably over a milkshake… I love me some malt vanilla.”

Butcher gasped as he felt the wind saturate his lungs, the kid watched him with detachment, briefly considering smashing his car and risking it but this was a little child, a little child asking about Ryan… not just any kid… as he had a clear look at her– this was Helena. The Homelander’s daughter. He swallowed, awaiting the familiar sonic boom to rock his car that never came.

“I thought you were a pedophile but I dunno if working for the feds is any better.” Her emotionless voice said as she dipped her chips on the ice cream– really creepy to be staring at school kids, dontcha think?”

Butcher had no appetite, just watching the kid trying to see if there were any blond threats lurking.

“I want to get rid of Ryan Butcher, or Ryan Gillman, who knows what to call him– you see he’s a bump in the road for me and the more I think about it… the more inconvenient he becomes. Honestly I can figure out a way to kill him and make it look like an accident (even if it takes me some time) and I got no qualms in doing so. If anything, the more time I spend with him the more I want to murder him… I understand that he’s your stepson, that he has an aunt named Racheal and two grandparents: Sam and Imogen Saunders… for all intents and purposes” She settles in her seat after taking a messy bite of her burger, wiping her cheeks as she spoke– he has options outside of Homelander… so killing him isn’t my only avenue of disposing of the worthless idiot.”

“Don’t think I won’t crush your head in this restaurant because they’re people ‘ere. What are you anyways… wha you did in the car was not something Homelander or Soldier Boy ev’r did”

“I’m just a super-abled kid…” She throws a chip at him– so threatening– go for it, murder me in broad daylight but I don’t think you’ll want that. I wanna help you Mr. Butcher… I need to monopolize my father’s affections in order for him to entrust the company to me– his shares, my future position set in stone, my inheritance… you know how much money we are talking about here? Enough to motivate a murder or a hundred.”

Butcher stared at the girl, dumbfounded, he could find very physical resemblance between the two but they sure had a way of talking.

“Look if you want the job… text me… no calls… don’t want Homelander to catch me lacking.”

“I don’t think you want to kill him… youse playing tough for somebody, otherwise you wouldn’t have come to me?” Butcher asked, killing the tense silence.

“Ryan's continuous existence is a direct threat to my future. I cannot afford to have the lingering notion that he would one day hold a higher position within the company than I do by virtue of being both male and the first born. I want him dead. But I’m merciful.”

Butcher was slid a sticky note with a phone number.

“So if you’re really his kid and not some weird PR… where the fuck did he kept you hidden?”

“I’m not privy to my parents' relationship history but I can tell you one thing and that’s that he didn’t know me by choice.” The kid pushed her food away, clearly losing appetite– by the way when you get around killing my old man please do so after we sort out the will situation… lots of paperwork y’know” She smiles with a playful tilt and a sudden glow in her eyes as he takes the note– "am not a very patient child, Mister Serial Killer.”

Butcher could only muster a dried disenhearted chuckle, thinking just how ridiculous this situation was.

“What do I get out of this?”

“It’s Ryan not enough?” She says with a puzzled look.

“It’s a lot of risk considering your old man it’s around.”

“If money it’s what you need… give me a couple days to sort that out… just give me a number… whatever might help you become somebody else… I dunno move to fucking New Zealand for all I care.”

“How much money can you steal without him noticing, little miss genius?”

“How much do you think a vial of compound V costs?” She took another bored bite of her meal– am sure that somebody with your reputation might find a buyer… they have already started some international distribution… Russia, China, Saudi, Turkey are not on the list tho– get creative. I’ll give you a dozen if you like… save me having to blackmail one of those lab rats to help me sell it.”

He smiled at the brat.

You on the other hand learned of her shenanigans after being inadvertently kidnapped while leaving work, after the initial trauma and shock dispelled– meeting these people after the posters with your face began circulating shouldn’t have surprised you, after all you had been panicking about this brit stealing your kids before you had the pleasure to meet him, never considering it be you.

“He isn’t going to rescue me… if anything if I die it's better for him” you remarked but they were confident this would work.

Homelander wouldn’t ‘rescue’ you until four days later when he just knocked on the hideout door– Butcher had had enough of you, exasperated by your terrible personality. 

If somebody was going to kidnap you were under no obligation to let yourself be pleasant, so you let them know.

“You deserve each other. I hope you never divorce because living with her will be a nightmare.” Butcher dragged him inside the dingy hideout, growling and grumbling.

“What did she do?” Homelander scratched his hair, finding the whole scene rather awkward.

“She bit me!” He screamed towards the back- fucking psycho bitch!”

“Black eye too?” He grimaced at the wound– why didn’t you” He gestured a stabbing motion.

“You deserve her.” He snarled.

Between your busted lips and bruises, you had bitten a fair amount of people as payback, you had been kicking and screaming none stop, your thumbs broken as you used them to escape from the first pair of cuff they forced on you– you had nothing of use, whatever trap they had for Homelander was rendered pointless as they just wanted you out of the blacksite more than anything.

“Four days!!!?” Your raspy voice roared the moment he stepped in your sight.

“Maybe next time don’t hit me with a toilet plunger. '' before you could rip your chains off on your own to kill him– it's a blacksite baby… I couldn’t find you! We assume you ran away but after two days the kids did got worried. We thought you ran away… Helena was certain.” he mumbled.

“It was clean!!” you spat dried blood– you bastard!”

Your ears hadn’t picked up much of what he was saying after being a smartass– you only wanted him to take these chains off and go home, you wanted him to be a hero for once.

“Y/N please...” He moved behind you, pulverizing the three sets of chains holding you together in one swift swipe– lordy lord, what did you do for them to get this dramatic? She’s human you know, William?”

“She nearly ate my fucking finger, putain.” Hughie had to hold back the Frenchman as he came with a knife from the kitchen.

“I spat it back didn’t I?” You might as well been cursing– and I gave you my marinara recipe so I think we’re even– you bitch!”

“Calm down, honey.” He said with his nicest voice, stroking your bruised wrist– Why don’t we go get you a nice warm bath and some gelato, after we get a doctor.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!!!” You screamed, ripping your hands away from him– I haven’t showered in 3 days!! They electrocuted me, hit me, called me ugly! and made me listen to shit 80’s music!!”

“Just take her!” Starlight shouted from the bathroom.

“It's a good recipe.” Frenchie said as he calmed down.    

“What’s wrong with her?” He looked at Starlight’s direction, catching her reeking in the bathroom.

At this point you cried and clung to him, your arms wrapped around his shoulder babbling about ice creams, gelato and your kids, his cautious expression painted with anxiety, not knowing if you welcomed him, but as your legs gave up and you cried he gave himself permission to embrace you.

“She spat a loogie in Annie’s mouth.” Butcher said, handing Homelander your work bag, the Supe had lifted you and cradled you as you cried– "I better not see you ever again.” he hissed.

“…next time I’ll pick her up the same day.”

He looked embarrassed as a light blush creeped on his face, hearing the signs of relief as the group saw them leave.

Flying home with a bit of pride in his chest as he simmered on the sight– the destruction and wounds you left, his lips shivered at the sight of your fear and anguish laden tears slowly being made those of relief. He was proud of you, he was proud that you never gave up, that you didn’t let him think he could beat you… how strange that you were always so perfect for him, almost as strong as him– he thought.

Helena would apologize thinking the man wouldn’t kidnap you over their deal but you were too busy soaking in the bath while you waited for Homelander to bring a couple pints of gelato from italy, you told her not to tell you anything further until you had the energy to handle it, obviously she had been swindle by the brit… thinking of him a savage hooligan and not a smart devil.

“Please don’t tell anything that can be used against you, Helena… I don’t know why you decided to interact with that man– anybody who decides to make their life mission to destroy your father and other supes… is not some patsy you can use.”

“I… I don’t know what to say…” she said unable to stop crying.

“Why you thought I’d run away?” You pressed sinking into the bathtub covering your ears in warm water.

Her lips moved but you heard very little, looking at her face resting on the bathtub rim, she left as Homelander came back they left to have a talk re-entering a few minutes later.

For the first time since this whole thing began you found yourself letting him pamper you without complaint as he fed you gelato, both entertaining a sense of normalcy for your relationship despite everything, his touch more welcomed than those abusive gruff hands. 

That night as you entered the bedchambers you asked him to move the beds together, something a light kick achieved. Homelander didn’t sleep much that night as he kept checking to see if you were still asleep, if you were okay, ogling with wet eyes the wounds of your hands– one dislocated and the other fractured, leaving you unable to work for at least 6 weeks.

“I thought you ran away… that I scared you away… I’ve been so manic lately.” he whispered close to you, his body just an inch away from feeling yours.

“The only way am running away from you guys is when I shoot my brains off… never… ever think I’ll leave where I can’t take my children.” Your voice almost broke as you tried to speak.

“Don’t leave me…” He sniffed loudly– Y/N please…”

“We’re stuck with each other, John… if anybody is gonna leave– it's you.”

He spoke very little after that, unsure if you were still upset, all he knew was that he wanted you to stay where he could see you, fearful that Butcher or some other force would tear you away from him once more– yet as you slept restlessly he found comfort on those wayward fingers clinging to his shirt.

You wrote the name down.

In return for the sick joke he turned your home into a bridal shop. The family room was stuffed to the brim with gowns of all shades of white and modernist choices– pale yellows and pinks, even daring blacks. Every shape of wedding dress available from exceedingly revealing and form fitting to something only an amish might wear.

“Homelander said if nothing here is up to standard he had a list of designers waiting for your call” Ashley muttered sipping on the champagne, you didn’t give her any grief for it despite being 10 am, Chrissie, Alessia and an old friend joined in the bubbly testing– he does want an answer by the end of the day.” She pressed.

“There’s like a thousand frocks in here.” You muttered– I might need a day.”

“This is what passed the first 3 rounds” She snorted looking at the lines and lines of stuff extending all the way into the hallway– "He has such good taste.”

You stared at her wondering if she was being sarcastic but it was hard to read her.

“With his ass he could wear these better than me” You chuckle.

Even she gave it a thought without disagreeing.

He would show up five hours in to check if you’ve made a decision, normal people would’ve asked him to leave but Ashley dragged your human friends out to safety instead.

You sat slouched on the arm chair wearing a dress worth two whole monthly paycheck, your back sore from looking at dresses and veils, foot throbbing from all the shoes and your eyes aching from staring at catalogs.

“You aren’t supposed to be here for this…” You said cracking your toes as you stretched your aching limbs.

“The lawyers said they had the prenup readied… as well as Ryan’s papers.”

He purposefully avoided gazing at your direction, his throat stuffed with cotton, he could hardly muster to swallow, his mouth arid as his eyes became red and wet.

“You could’ve texted me.”

He was more than jittery in his boots, you studied his posture trying to analyze him, rolling your eyes as you wrote your lines.

“John, do you want to help me pick the dress?” You relented standing up trying to flatten the newly form creases off the satin gown– I’ll be nice and not peek at your suit… altho there’s this really nice pantsuit over there—

“You don’t look good in tea-length” His words stiff, moving towards one of the racks to pick a pale mauve tulle gown– try this.

“Daring. I like it.” You humor him.

“I think if anybody is going to pull off a mauve and plum wedding dress that’s going to be you” the way he moved across those racks he might give Helena and run for her money in speed but instead of books it was silk and chiffon– this one is so pretty… vintage Dior… and this is a copy of Grace Kelly’s wedding dress.”

Decisions were made by day 2.

He was giddy and jovial, his mood only soured if things weren’t going smoothly with the wedding planning, hero work was secondary and Vought was even less important but overall he was happier, and the company could tell– this was him in his 20s before losing his mind. 

He would come home and respect your boundaries avoid touching you without permission, hovering around in the kitchen with the sudden interested in learning how to make omelets, seeing him make and fail doing breakfast just so you could sleep-in was a rewarding experience, he liked being led by you even if there was no kink involved this time– you were afterall now stuck at home… you blushed as he asked you how to make those jiggly pancakes Ryan had seen online, he seemed so normal as he asked for your help to follow the youtube video while you made a strawberry compote by his side, he talked to you as if he was that young man once again so chirpy and friendly as he asked about your thoughts on an old TV show that he had started watching after an off-handed comment he overheard from Helena’s assistant, or discussed some old missing person’s case that came on his youtube feed– it was nice to talk like normal people.

While injured he had hired a private driver for you, to save you the stress on your hands not wanting your injuries to worsen before you could return to work, hiring a nanny to help you with the kids and an extra maid to help at home, while he spared no expenses making sure you were truly unburdened.

It made you feel as if you were some Victorian lady of high society with how little you had to do.

You blushed as you watched him slip into human clothes as he forced himself to unwind for the day, leaving the superhero drama behind as he tucked his suit in the closet– You must have been feeding him well for he seemed to look healthier, his body bigger and glowy, you thought.

You certainly liked looking at his thighs.

“I still don’t know why Elmo likes these…” Helena snuggled at her father’s side, she was cuddly on purpose but her feet were still touching you as you stretched on the couch, Ryan snuggling on the other side of him.

“I like the talking blue cat.” He says as a hand mindlessly plays with her hair– he’s funny.”

“I like the banana guy” Said Ryan, which made his dad giggled in agreement.

He seemed like the John you fell in love with a decade ago, like a weird dream playing live– just you four laughing at some kids cartoons.

Whatever sweetness you’d gathered since your kidnapping was now twisting the knife in your gut just to remind you it was there.

It went back to zero as you sat in a boardroom filled with heartless bastards.

It started easy enough– you been informed Rebecca Saunders-Butcher was declared legally dead before she was found by Homelander, no birth registration had ever been made for Ryan, as during Edgar’s tenure Ryan was categorized as a company asset, giving him the same legal rights as a beagle, it had been a hassle to have him recognize as a human being once he came out to the public… but it provided the opportunity of your name being put on his new birth certification– in the eyes of the law you would be Ryan’s biological mother. At first you assumed they were adoption papers until your eyes started swimming thru the lines, you could feel your whole body trembling, unable to muster a word as you tried to remain calm, this felt ludicrous, the idea of adopting Ryan didn’t bother you– it came off as sensible even.

But this felt dangerous, Homelander could smell the intoxicating and repulsive cocktail of visceral functions and hormones, he lifted his hand demanding the room to be cleared.

“Do you know what you’re asking me here?” Your voice was a nervous squeak as you pushed the paper towards his direction.

Homelander watches you shake like a leaf, offended at your sudden rejection his lip raised just enough for you to see some teeth.

“Suddenly getting cold feet after I spend all this money on you?”

Your brows crease.

“I never said I wasn’t going to be his mother… You’re asking me to lie about being pregnant 10 years ago, You’re asking me to pretend we share DNA! I’ll adopt him but this is– illegal… is amoral. What would he think if he ever finds this!?” You cried.

“He won’t.”

“What if he needs his birth certificate to get a driver's license!?”

“He can fly!” He argued back.

“Maybe his future wife would like him to drive her places! I dunno!” Glozing over the rest wasn’t any better– look… let’s think about this… this’s a lot and this… this shit isn’t helping.”

The calendar in front of you had only one thing written in it and that was Homelander’s birthday.

“I want you to have custody of Ryan.” He took the small calendar away, you froze watching him shrivel as he bit and chewed at his lips– if I die… Ryan has nobody to protect him. The government or Vought are no places for him… they’ll use him, abuse him, neglect him and he will come out of it broken– he isn’t strong like me. He’s my baby, but he’s delicate… he used to have people who cared about him but now he only has me. Nobody else in the whole world actually cares for him! But… but you’re his sister’s mother and his stepmother, you are family. The only one he has… so if I died then I’d rather my son stay with his only other family– than end up in a cell or a freezer…” He squeezed at his cape– I rather you have him than him ending up suffering like I did.” He let a couple tears fall, ashamed of his own reaction.

Whatever was happening outside your house, had him anxious, no doubt something involving Vought, Butcher or the FBSA.

“John. John… just give me a day… I’d rather adopt him… but if this is the best way to protect him…” Your stood up moving towards him to place a callous hand on his shoulder, you could tell this wasn’t easy to ask, it was definitely not timed correctly as the calendar you two had been fighting about twenty minutes ago was still in the room but here he was hurting– I just worry that he’ll hate me. That he’ll feel as if I erased his mother and forced myself into his life… we’re still a little awkward around each other.”

“He’ll understand when he’s older.” He said firmly but gently.

He kissed your knuckle, stroking your wrist looking up.

“I think before we do this together… we should ask Ryan if he wants to be adopted– then we can bring this up again.” You placed your spare hand atop of his, squeezing his fingers as you spoke– Ryan has gone through so much, and I don’t blame you for being nervous… you should… you have a tough job… and I’ve already been kidnapped… I’m just saying I don’t want to frighten him.”

“You mean that?” He asked, trying to rest his cheek on you, your hand lifting just before he could to grab him, not letting him rest on your hand but pushing his forehead onto your stomach, he turned limp, wrapping his arms around your legs once the blood returned to his brain, inhaling deeply– you would take good care of him.”

“I like the idea of him calling me ‘mom’ one day.” 

You twisted the knife right back in.

He catches his reflection on the steel and the other one simply stares at him with a hint of doubt in his eyes.

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#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys oc #personal #my fic tag #I will try to post the next chapter soonish as i finished the first round of editing for that chapter #homelander x f!reader #thank u to all the readers i can't wait to deliver the finale