#lara.

content warning: daddy kink in the last paragraph

lara's attraction to you was immediate, and she'll be the first to say it. it was something about the way you carried yourself, how you presented yourself, that she was instantly drawn to. she knew that there was a thin line between femininity and masculinity, and you toed that line so well she was actually envious. because there was no question you were a girl, but you were just more masc than you were anything else, and lara ate that up.

even before you were official, lara was touchy with you. her favorite outfit on you was one of the many calvin klein sports bras you owned with a flannel thrown over it, and she wasn't shy with her hands. she'd find some excuse to brush her fingers over your stomach, to touch your waist or your hips. and if you two were somewhere private, or where being topless was acceptable like a beach or a pool?? lara would get the flannel off you in an instant, or at least get it fully unbuttoned. it was like a little game she played with herself, how quickly she could get it off you, because they all end up in her closet.

and she's such a sucker for when you get handsy with her. holding her hand, wrapping your arm around her, hugging her from behind, just being clingy and touchy with her?? she leans against you and you don't have to see it to know she's smiling. her ultimate weakness is when you pull her onto your lap, no matter if she's facing you or not. she'll melt into your arms in an instant if you pull her onto your lap.

making out with lara is pretty much her touching you for as long as you'll let her. she loves being in your lap, hands trailing over your arms, your stomach, your collarbone. she loves feeling your muscles, and when she feels your stomach quiver beneath her palms it drives her insane. she's straddled your thigh and used it to get off more times than you can count, not that you're complaining. you just turn her on so much she can't help herself.

one of her biggest weaknesses is when she can see the waistband of your boxers peaking out from your jeans. the second she gets you alone, she'll sink to her knees and spend so long just kissing along your waistline, taking her time until she pulls everything down and tastes you until you can't take anymore.

MASCS ARE UP

lara sips her drink , just waiting for it to go quiet by the bar before she makes her way over . she sets down the empty glass before sitting down on one of the stools . she's aware of everyone currently in here , hence why she'd noticed immediately when her bracelet was gone . she clears her throat , eyebrow raising as she looks at the man behind the bar .

           it was by chance that emmeline had walked by the record store and caught a glimpse of an oh so familiar face - lara. nathaniel claimed that their relationship was just a result of his pupeteering but she felt different. emmeline had been upset when lara had escaped with the others for her own selfish reasons. the woman cared about her but the emotional reaction emmeline had had when informed that lara sousa was part of the group that had escaped was extreme. she had been clinging onto lara in the hope it would make her more human. it wasn’t a good idea for emmeline to react so quickly but she found herself entering the store without hesitation. a few metres away from the other, she lifted up her hands. “lara...” it was definitely her. by chance, she had found her.

gladsome rays healing center-- raoism in everything but name, trying to take after their child’s urge to help these porcelain doll humans. their human name is vannessa, and they’ve managed to live a quiet life heralding a fledgling “new age” movement.

it’s not quite a secret, but well- they haven’t had time to tell kal that they survived after all this time. they'd sent him here to be on his own. a new parent would just be a burden.

the screaming draws their attention. the little strip mall they’ve set up shop in has become chaos, humans screaming and running. pushing each other, trampling others underfoot.

the ghosts have risen. earth, such strange practices to bury the honored dead. now the bodies are a wave, bottlenecked in the complex.

lara lor-van walks like the royalty they are. kryptonian robes flow behind them in a storm of watery blues and golden suns. but there are monsters ahead, ones that must be put down. a red cape flutters in the middle of the throng. while these humans scurry away aren’t worth attention, their son is somewhere in the fray.

they leap, bounding in the air on the other side of the throng. they land, cracking the concrete between the humans and the damned.

“get inside. go!” maybe kal has a point. alright, fine. they’ll fight. they’ll save as many humans as they can. they see a streak of blue, kal’s own armor flashing in the sun. it looks like he’s falling, failing as a wave of bodies drag him under.

fabric in fists, they tear and discard the blue cloak. black armor shimmers in the sun. the surface looks metallic and shifting. golden spirals swirl beneath like water under glass. it is living crystal, molded in the forge after their final test.

a golden circlet unfolds into a helmet. the dome is ringed in golden tines and spires. the effect is something between hawk’s plumage and sunbeams wreathing their head. a hero’s halo.

they kneel and pull their weapon from a crystal on their thigh. it unfolds into a large golden stave. the tip is a stylized crimson sun. one of the sunbeams is golden, longer than the rest. it’s been sharpened and blessed by their own hands years before their planet died.

the warmth the crystal absorbs is electric. veins sear with warmth-- and they leap again. the stave hardly seems enough against the wall of bodies rushing forward. they shift into a more solid stance, half kneeling on the already bloodsoaked concrete.

a short prayer, a touch of lips to the staff and a call for protection. this fight would be in his honor. for their house, for their guild, for their planet.

arise, champion of rao.

they crash into the bodies swarming, shouldering as many out of the way as possible. defense should be kept up as long as possible. a trick instilled into them from a young age at the forge. offense takes too much energy. weather what you can and then strike when the enemy is exhausted.

harder when the enemy doesn’t stop. doesn’t grow tired, only claws and tears at them. they finally do attack-- superman’s strength, zod’s fighting prowess. lara’s own fury to survive. bones crunch and turn to dust beneath deceptively slender fingers. blood sprays, arcing into the air and catching the sunlight. the blade buries deem into chests, almost always striking true despite the chaos.

one grabs their right leg, arms wrapped around their thigh, trying to gnaw through the crystal. the high pitch scraping noise it makes makes their jaw hurt and echoes even above the screams of the damned. another bites at their left wrist, intelligent enough to try to pry the staff away. biting back the pain, they fly, gripping both bodies and swinging them back down at the earth. a quick scan of the horizon shows no one. not even their child.

another shockwave landing clears out a few more. enough to give them seconds of breathing room. a glance at the office. everyone is inside, secure in rao’s temple.

with a battle cry, they jump back into the fray. the circle closes and cages them in. they attack with ease. fluid-- arms and legs move loosely and slowly. the staff balances and twirls around each limb as needed, no distinction between arms and legs in zod’s forge.

they use the three dimensions to their advantage, attacking from below and the flanks all at once, dipping below the mass’s legs and pushing upward and outward. rao’s staff nimbly rolls from one wrist to the other, red flashing in the sun as they fight.

their son’s hand is buried beneath a mass of bodies and they yank hard, dragging him up into the sky. hanging in the clouded void with them, he winces in pain. a shake of his head, he recovers, smiles at them. gosh, he’s grown up so much, hasn’t he?

“thanks for the help. who are you?”

does he remember the stories they’d sent with him? does he recognize the voice that read fairy tales to him? the knight of vahkd, golden armor blessed by rao to never falter and never fail. the warrior for the people, who learned that while there was glory in the fighting and violence, there must never be glory in needless blood.

did he recognize their armor? the ethos and styling of the martial arts guild was based on rao’s heroes, living sunbeams that could shoot across space in seconds, burning fires that never died.

“i know you.” kal’s face looked-- open, more than the earlier shock. further questions were cut off by the strange skittish silence of a thousand bodies crawling over each other. there wasn’t anymore screaming.

“we’ll talk after, sunbeam.” a smile and a whoop of excitement, they dive back down. stave held ready, they begin to slash through the crowd again, throwing bodies to and fro, lifting corpses up in the air with the stave. again the attacks come from everywhere, no concept of gravity or ground. dancing around the enemy and ripping him apart.

///

lara’s heart was pounding in their chest as the final body fell. kal floated from above, blocking the sun. mother and son were exhausted. lara held themselves up on their staff, chin jutted out, shoulders straight and solid even as their legs wobbled. “you fight like an amazonian.” they smiled and nodded in approval.

“you do too.”

“no i don’t.” they laughed. amazonians would have been well respected on krypton, from what lara had seen of wonder woman. but it was an incredibly different culture. “amazonians use strength and power and full body throws. torq-vahkd is redirection of energy. a flowing movement followed by the killing blow. i would demonstrate but--” a soft laugh as their legs give out. kal rushes forward-- zippy little sunbeam, isn’t he?-- and helps lower them to the ground.

“are you alright?”

“i’m fine. i haven’t fought like that in some years.” they lean back, stretching out in the sun. they sheath the spear and touch the helmet. it folds back up into a circlet. they run hands through their hair, shaking it out with a sigh.

“you’re kryptonian.” it’s said in awe, fingers trace the air above their left shoulder, the red paldron over their heart bears the family crest. he brings the hand back to his chest. the sunbeam darkens, confused and lost. “you’re my family.”

“as you are mine, kal el-vahn.” they nod. “my name is lara lor-van, champion of rao, sworn to the house of el.”

“lara-- wait. mom? i mean, you’re my mother.” he’s elated, then crushed. “how long have you been here? alive? how are you alive?”

“since you were sixteen years old. i fled argos city just before the collector destroyed it. i didn’t mean to end up on earth--”

kal’s hands wrap around their shoulders, squeezing enough that they can feel it through the armor. “you didn’t even want to-- to end up here?”

“this is your planet, kal. your home. you had a family. we gave you everything you needed. i didn’t want to uproot the life you’d already built--”

“i did. i do, i mean.” kal sat down, running his hands through his hair and staring off into space. “i do, they’re great. they didn’t just abandon me to spend years of my life with no idea who i was or why i could do what i did.”

lara’s heart broke for their child. jor, damn him, must have gotten his way. he’d had some plan to turn kal into a symbol, a weapon. it was a defiance to everything rao stood for, and it would doom their son to a life alone and afraid and lost and--

well, how he’d ended up now. “i didn’t realize. i had sent stories with you, to listen to as you grew up. they were supposed to teach you about us. to let you understand where you came from. i cannot change what my husband did. but i am here now, little sunbeam.” they stand, placing a hand on kal’s face. their son leans into it, smiling. “i watched you, when you first put on the cape. i was so proud of you. i still am. you care for them, don’t you? humans?”

kal looks a little stunned. “yes. i do.”

“you showed me how wonderful they are. i’ve seen you save so many lives, and help so many people. rao has given us a gift here, and you’ve used it well. you taught me today, i saved people because... because i saw you doing it. it looked fun. it was. they’re so... squishy and vulnerable.”

kal raised an eyebrow at the word ‘squishy’ but they only shrugged-- it sounded better in kryptonian. kal looked at them and smiled. “vulnerable. yea. we have these gifts that we should use to help others. that’s what, uh, my parents taught me.” and he looked up at that, locking eyes with lara in a strange expression. it’s seeking approval but waiting for a challenge. (what did jor do to you, to make you think of us this way?)

lara simply nods and smiles at their child. their son, grown into a fine hero, a second champion of rao no doubt. “they raised you, of course they’re your parents. as for me, i’ll accept whatever title or role you want me to fill in your life.”

kal nodded, head bobbing a bit distractedly. “you weren’t in the fortress. it was just him. jor-el. he’s the one that told me about krypton, about myself.” he put a hand to his chest. “i tried to tell him no. he-- he seared the house of el into my chest so i wouldn’t forget who i was supposed to serve.”

lara looks, and sees, and god, they’ve never felt nauseous since the finals in the forge. they stand sharply, a hand on their son’s cheek. “krypton is not perfect, there are old and harmful patterns that jor still held onto. i thought my presence on the ship could temper it but--”

“but you weren’t there.”

“no. i wish i had been there to guide you with a steadier hand. i wish i could have told you who you were, to let you grow up with our stories alongside these strange earthling’s fairy tales. yet, i cannot change what has happened, kal. we can only move forward. i will go back to the shadows if you want. i will stay by your side if you want.”

“i--” kal frowned, torn. “i need to figure this out. for now, can we just go... get coffee and talk?”

“of course, sunbeam.” a pause. “is it-- okay to call you sunbeam?”

my brain: