#luthorforgood

America Chavez had never once been referred to as a people person. She wasn’t good at making friends, wasn’t skilled in building relationships that lasted. She could do one night stands --- she could do one night stands very well --- but most of her attempts at anything longer were doomed from the start. The closest she’d come to success was her relationship with Lisa, and that had gone up in flames. She wasn’t looking to try anything like that again.

But she wouldn’t mind something short. A partner for a brief roll in the sheets, someone to keep her bed warm for a night (or two, depending on quality). She recognized Lena Luthor, of course. The name was famous in most universes, one of those almost-constant things. In every world, she was brilliant. In every world, she was beautiful. Could anyone really blame America for shooting her shot? 

“It was me hitting on you, actually,” she corrected with a smirk, quirking her brows. “But the compliment stands either way. That really is your color, you know?”