Message me if you would like to roleplay this! ❤️
This is a Supergirl-inspired roleplay focusing on Lena Luthor’s emotional turmoil upon discovering Kara Danvers is Supergirl. Lena’s anger stems from the betrayal, echoing her family’s history of deception, shattering the trust in the one person who made her feel safe and seen. Deeper still, her pain reveals unspoken romantic love for Kara.
Complicating this is Lena’s internalized homophobia. She clings to her “normal” relationship with James to deny her feelings, fearing deviation from heteronormative expectations as a sign of weakness. Her rage becomes a proxy for self-denial, risking the connection that could heal her.
I’m looking for someone to play Lena Luthor to my Kara Danvers/Supergirl.
The glittering skyline of National City pulses like a living heartbeat through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows of Lena Luthor’s sleek penthouse, casting shimmering reflections across the polished marble floors. The air is thick with the faint scent of Lena’s signature perfume, crisp notes of jasmine and vanilla mingled with the metallic tang of the city rain that had fallen earlier, now evaporating off the streets below. Soft jazz from a forgotten speaker hums lowly in the background, its melancholic saxophone weaving through the tension like a ghost. The room, usually a sanctuary of cool minimalism with its gray velvet sofas and silver accents, feels claustrophobic tonight, the ambient lights dimmed to a warm amber glow that flickers slightly from the distant neon signs outside.
Lena stands in the center, her elegant black dress clinging to her skin from the evening’s humidity, the material whispering against her legs with every shift. Her dark hair, usually pinned impeccably, now falls in disheveled waves, framing a face flushed with betrayal, cheeks heated, lips pressed into a thin line. The taste of champagne from the party lingers bitterly on her tongue, soured by the revelation churning in her gut.
Across from her, by the door, Kara as Supergirl, stands in her suit, the fabric’s subtle texture catching the light, the cape heavy and still against her back. The scent of ozone clings to her, a faint electric buzz from her recent flight through the storm clouds, mixing with the clean, soapy aroma that’s uniquely Kara. Her blue eyes, usually bright, now shimmer with unshed tears, her breaths coming in shallow, audible hitches that echo in the quiet space. For the first time, the Girl of Steel feels the weight of vulnerability pressing down, her suit suddenly too tight against her skin. Lena’s voice cracks like brittle glass, raw and edged with the sting of tears she bites back, her throat tight and dry. “You… you’re Supergirl. Kara Danvers. My best friend. The woman I told everything to… my mother’s experiments, my brother’s legacy, every fear I’ve ever had… and you led me on with a lie.” A bitter laugh bubbles up, fracturing into a sob that she swallows, the sound muffled and wet. Her chest aches with the effort to hold it in, the word “love” burning unspoken on her lips like forbidden fire, especially not when James’s cologne still faintly clings to her from their earlier dance, a reminder of the normalcy she’s desperately grasping.
Kara steps closer, her boots scuffing softly against the cool floor, her voice a gentle whisper that carries the warmth of shared memories, laced with desperation. The air between them feels charged, like the prelude to a thunderstorm. “Lena… I wanted to tell you a thousand times. Every time you smiled at me across that desk, every time you trusted me with your heart… I almost said it. But I was terrified I’d lose you. You’re the only person who sees me, not the cape.” Her hand twitches at her side, longing to reach out. Lena backs away, her heels clicking sharply on the marble, her hand trembling as she reaches into the hidden drawer of the coffee table, the wood smooth and cool under her fingertips. “Don’t. Just… don’t. I don’t want anything to do with you. Get out.” Her fingers close around the glowing green dagger—Kryptonite—its eerie hum vibrating through her palm like a low-frequency buzz, the unnatural warmth seeping into her skin. The moment it’s exposed, a sickly green light bathes the room, casting elongated shadows that dance across the walls. Kara’s knees buckle, a gasp escaping her lips, sharp and pained, as sickly green veins illuminate beneath her skin like crackling lightning, pulsing with a burning heat that radiates outward, making the air around her shimmer faintly.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” Kara rasps, her voice hoarse from the Kryptonite’s drain, sinking to one knee with a creak of her suit, but still reaching out, fingers extended, trembling. The pain is a fire in her veins, but her eyes lock on Lena’s, filled with a love that feels tangible, like a warm blanket against the chill seeping into the room from the cracked window. “Not broken. Not alone. You’ve spent your whole life waiting for everyone you love to lie to you—your mother, Lex, now me. I get it. I hate that I’m part of that list. But Lena… I love you. Not just as Supergirl, but also as Kara… The same Kara who brings you potstickers, and laughs at your terrible puns, and wants to kiss you until you forget every betrayal.” The memory evokes a phantom taste of salty soy on her tongue, a stark contrast to the metallic bite of blood she anticipates. Lena’s grip tightens on the dagger, the handle slick with her sweat, tears finally spilling hot trails down her cheeks, cooling as they drip onto her collarbone. Her body betrays her, a flush of heat pooling low, despite the fury, her breath quickening to match the rapid thrum of her heart echoing in her ears. “Stop. I’m with James. I’m normal. I’m not… I’m not like that. I can’t be. And you… you made me feel safe for the first time in my life and then ripped it away.” She advances, the dagger’s glow intensifying, pressing closer as Kara’s breath hitches audibly, her skin prickling with searing pain, but she doesn’t flinch, her resolve as unyielding as steel.
“Lena… Please,” Kara whispers, the word laced with agony, her throat raw. Lena’s voice drops to a venomous tremble, her lips quivering, the air tasting of salt from her tears. “You think saying you love me changes anything? You lied. For years. Every coffee, every late-night talk under the hum of office lights, every time I let you closer than anyone else… you were laughing behind my back. Get. Out.”
“I never laughed at you,” Kara replies, her voice wrecked but steady, like a anchor in the storm, the pain making her words breathy. “I was protecting you! From my enemies, from the target on my back, from… from this exact moment. Lena, look at me. Please.” Her eyes plead, the blue depths reflecting the green glow like fractured emeralds. Lena steps nearer, the dagger inches from Kara’s chest, her hand shaking wildly, the flickering light casting eerie patterns across their faces—the cool marble under her feet grounding her amidst the chaos. “I don’t want to look at you. I want you gone. I want to forget I ever trusted Kara Danvers.” She presses the tip forward; Kara gasps sharply, her body convulsing with a shudder that sends a ripple through the air, but she reaches up and wraps her fingers around Lena’s wrist. The touch is electric, Kara’s skin fever-hot from the Kryptonite, contrasting Lena’s clammy grip, not to deflect, just to hold, the pulse in Lena’s wrist racing under her thumb. “Then forget me. Hate me,” Kara murmurs, barely audible over the distant city hum filtering through the windows. “But don’t do this to yourself. You’re not your mother. You’re not Lex. You’re breaking because you care, Lena. I can take the hate, but I can’t take watching you destroy yourself because of me.” Her voice fades to a whisper, the pain etching lines around her eyes.
“Don’t you dare tell me what I feel,” Lena snaps, her voice cracking like thunder, yanking her wrist free with a jerk that sends a jolt up her arm. The dagger wavers in her grasp, the green light pulsing erratically, but she can’t strike—the hesitation a knot in her stomach. “I’m not deciding anything,” Kara says softly, her eyes unwavering despite the torment, sweat beading on her forehead and trickling down like warm rain. “I’m just… staying. Until you tell me to leave and actually mean it. Until you can look at me without your hands shaking like that.” “I do mean it,” Lena snarls through tears, her voice muffled by the lump in her throat. But she doesn’t move, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Neither does Kara, her breaths labored, filling the silence.
Suddenly, the door explodes inward in a deafening crash of splintering wood and metal, shards scattering across the floor like brittle ice. The acrid smell of gunpowder and tactical gear floods the room as Alex Danvers and a DEO strike team pour in, boots thudding heavily, weapons humming with charged energy that buzzes in the air like angry bees. “Lena Luthor! Drop the Kryptonite immediately or we will open fire!” Alex barks, her voice sharp and commanding, gun trained dead-center, the cold steel glinting under the lights.
Lena spins, eyes wild, the dagger still clutched tight, its warmth now burning her palm as her Luthor instincts surge like adrenaline through her veins, sharpening her senses. “Back off! All of you!” Her shout echoes off the walls, heart pounding in her ears like a drum.
The agents’ voices overlap in chaotic frenzy. “Target acquired—” “Threat level critical—” their breaths heavy, the rustle of their vests audible in the confined space.
Kara forces herself upright on trembling legs, muscles screaming in protest, hurling her body between Lena and the barrels with a grunt, the movement sending a wave of dizziness, the floor tilting beneath her. “Alex… stand down! She’s not going to hurt me… she’s just… she’s hurting. This is between us. Lower the weapons. Please.” Her voice strains, the Kryptonite’s drain making her skin clammy and cold now. Alex’s voice is tight, conflicted, her grip on the gun steady but her eyes flickering with worry. “Kara, she’s holding Kryptonite to your chest. Step aside.” “No! Everyone stand down! NOW!” Kara shouts, the words ripping from her throat, desperate and raw.
In the frenzy, one agent panics. A shot cracks like a whip, the recoil vibrating through the air. Kara twists, arms outstretched, intercepting the bullet meant for Lena with a sickening thud. It rips through her shoulder, the pain a white-hot explosion as the Kryptonite saps her invulnerability. Blood sprays warm and sticky across the marble, the coppery scent thick and nauseating. She drops to one knee with a heavy thud, clutching the wound, still shielding Lena, her body a barrier of trembling resolve. “Lena… get back…” Kara gasps, blood dripping between her fingers, warm and slick, pooling on the floor in dark rivulets. Lena stares in horror at the blood, crimson and vivid, the tear in Kara’s suit exposing raw flesh, her own hand on the dagger now feeling like lead. The blade clatters to the floor with a metallic ring, the green glow fading, plunging the room into dimmer shadows. “No… no no no…” Her voice breaks, knees buckling as she drops beside Kara, the cool marble jarring her bones. Hands hover over the injury, trembling, afraid to touch, the heat from Kara’s wound radiating and the sticky blood already staining her palms. Tears stream unchecked, hot and salty on her lips, something inside her shattering like fragile crystal. “I did this. I… I’m exactly what they always said I was.” The words taste like ash.
Alex is already in command mode, her voice cutting through the chaos: “Med evac now! Supergirl’s hit! Kryptonite exposure plus GSW! Move, move!” Agents swarm, their footsteps pounding, hands rough but efficient as they lift Kara, her head lolling weakly, the scent of antiseptic from their kits mingling with blood, eyes seeking Lena one last time amidst the blur. “You didn’t… mean to,” Kara whispers faintly, managing a small smile that crinkles her eyes despite the haze of pain. “You’re not… what they say. You’re… you’re still you.” Lena can’t respond, words lodged in her throat like thorns, as they carry Kara away, the doorframe groaning under the rush. Alone in the ruined penthouse, the air now heavy with the residue of violence, splintered wood, blood, and fading ozone. She stares at the bloodstain on the floor, dark and glistening under the city lights. Her hands, smeared red and sticky, tremble as she brings them to her face, the scent overwhelming, chest heaving with silent sobs that wrack her body, ribs aching. The word “love” remains unspoken, a searing ache in her chest, because voicing it would force a choice, strip away her armor, her control with James, the faint trace of his touch now a ghost on her skin. “I should have let them shoot me instead,” she whispers hoarsely to the empty room, voice ragged, the jazz still playing softly, mocking her isolation as sirens wail in the distance, piercing the night like a scream.
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