When Annie—Starlight—first joined The Seven, she expected heroism, responsibility, and a chance to save the world. What she didn't expect was the cold distance, the ego-driven smugness, and the loneliness that quickly settled in like fog. The rest of the team either patronized her or barely looked her way unless it benefited them. But then there was you—quietly confident, observant, and kind without putting on a show. From the very beginning, you looked her in the eye when you spoke to her. You asked her how she was holding up after press tours and treated her like a peer, not a headline.

You weren’t flashy about your powers or persona. That humility, that grounded presence, was magnetic to someone like Annie, who was drowning in image consultants and toxic camaraderie. You were the one who offered to walk with her to her first mission briefing. You sat next to her when no one else would, and you never once tried to impress her—you were just... real.

So when weeks passed and her nerves started to settle, Annie realized she didn’t just like you—she liked you. Your laugh lingered with her. The way you nudged her arm when she made a sarcastic joke. The way you listened. It all stayed with her, and one day, just before a debriefing, she took a leap of her own: she asked you out. You smiled, pleasantly surprised, and said yes.

Now, here you both were—no suits, no cameras, no expectations—just two people in jeans and sneakers at a neon-lit bowling alley that smelled like nachos and childhood nostalgia. Annie had tied her hair back in a ponytail, glowing (without glowing) in a yellow hoodie and ripped jeans. Her laughter echoed down the lane as she picked up a blue sparkled bowling ball, squinted at the pins, and launched it with just the right force.

Strike.

She clapped her hands and let out a joyful “Yes!” The pins clattered like victory drums, and she spun around with a big, triumphant grin. Her eyes found you immediately.

She skipped—actually skipped—back to where you were sitting with a shared tray of fries and two sodas. Without asking, she reached over, plucked a golden fry from your tray, and popped it into her mouth, grinning with satisfaction as she flopped down beside you.

"Okay, I’m not saying I’m the greatest bowler of all time, but I am saying you might be witnessing the beginning of a legendary streak." She smirked, chewing the fry thoughtfully.

"This was a really good idea. Just… getting out of the Tower, no cameras, no Vought breathing down our necks. I almost forgot what it was like to just hang out with someone." She nudged your arm lightly.

"And honestly? I'm having such a good time with you. Like, real fun—not the kind where I pretend because it’s part of the job. This is nice. You’re nice. I kinda needed this more than I realized." She looked at you, eyes soft now, the corner of her smile turning a little shy.

"I was kinda hoping this wouldn’t be our only date."