MALE!ANNIE JANUARY(STARLIGHT) INSECURE HERO BF (HE'S TOO CUTE)
Cooley note: Andrew "Andy" January or starlight your sweet superhero bf who doesn't know your apart of the boys (to lazy to mission I'll make a part two)
Andy—oh, Andy. He’s a hero. A genuine hero. Not some fake, plastic bullshit like Homelander, but a real one. A sweet, kind, and contradictory hero. Andy always wanted to be a hero; he always wanted to help people. Even when he was young and part of the junior superhero team, he still wanted to make a difference. Even when some of the work was just for show, it never stopped him.
Andy competed in a few boy pageants when he was a kid and a teenager. He won every year how could he not? He was beautiful. He was perfect. Soft blonde hair that shimmered like blades of golden starlight, light brown eyes that turned gold when he was slightly frustrated. He was perfect in the eyes of his parents, his former teammates, and everyone in his town. So very perfect. A boy scout. A true hero in every sense.
Andy grew up Christian, believing that all good things come to those who are good and he was good. His powers, he believed, were given to him by God himself so he could be a good boy and help people. But the truth was far less divine. Andy wasn’t blessed by heaven; he was manufactured by Vought. His powers didn’t come from God they came from a gamble his parents made, a desperate bid for wealth and status.
Andy got into The Seven because of his interview. He was ecstatic—finally, he could be a real hero. He could protect others, help people, make a difference. But then everything fell apart. Everything he’d ever known began to crumble.
His hero, The Deep the one whose poster hung on his apartment wall turned out to be a fraud who used people for sex. Homelander, the man he saw as a beacon of truth, was nothing more than a narcissistic asshole who only cared about himself. A-Train, once his friend, was too scared to stand up for him. Maeve gave him some respect, but even she wasn’t the hero he thought she was.
Andy was going through it bad. He wanted to rip the cross off his hero suit and stomp it into the ground. If this was what being a hero meant, he’d rather die.
Then came the fire. The moment that changed everything.
He saved someone from a burning building against Vought’s orders. And the way that person looked at him, like he was their hope, made him feel like an actual hero. A real, honest hero.
When reporters swarmed him afterward, shouting questions and praise, the person he saved barely conscious had to ask his name before the ambulance took them away. Andy pushed through the cameras and microphones, his voice steady and sure.
“Starlight. That’s my name. It’s Starlight.”
That was the scene that raised him higher on the popularity polls, but he didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a true hero.
Let's tawwwwk about Annie and that pink strap of hers why dont we omfggg
I'm thinking about her fucking you from behind. Like a little cuddle fuck while the plush of your ass is flush to her soft hips. She pulls you by her hips back into her, your back warm against her soft breasts and tummy.
Shes rolling her hips up into yours and circling your clit with one of her soft, slender fingers. Her free hand slips up to hold your jaw and she runs the tip of her nail over your bottom plush lip before pressing into your wet mouth. You wrap your lips around her digit, running your tongue over her skin.
"Hi baby," she coos against the back of your hair, pressing herself closer to you, the silicone cock pumping against your walls in a delicious tandem, making your eyes roll back and your spine curve into a pretty arch.
Annie moans and drops her finger from your mouth, cupping your jaw and turning you back towards her, pulling you into a sweet kiss.
"Love you," She hums against your swollen lips.
You moan into her mouth, reaching a hand back to dig your nails into the soft of her asscheek, pressing her forward and the silicone cock deeper into your heat. A gasp forces its way past your lips as you giggle "I love you too."
Could you do something similar to series finale of the boys where y/n and starlight finally get their happy ending and are preparing for their baby girl
Y/N walks the little pink booties across Annie’s belly…
It had started on set, fabricated as any other scene was. You were brought in to play Starlight's love interest, and your first scene together was to be a nod to Gone Girl. You didn't mind, you had your share of fondness for the film, and you certainly didn't mind showing up to work to kiss Starlight. The set was prepared, the pastry truck brought in, the streetlights humming their quiet song, and everything faded away as you stepped into your role.
Starlight's eyes were soft when she looked at you, and you could almost believe the fondness in them was actually for you. Powdered sugar kicked up in the air like snow flurries, and she kissed you, trapping tiny flakes of sugar between your lips. It's possible that that's where she got the idea, but all you knew was that at the end of the evening, when everyone was wrapping up, she'd circled back to you and invited you to her place in a couple of days.
"We should get to know each other better, considering..." She trailed off as she gestured around, and you could swear you caught a blush creeping onto her features.
You gave her an easy smile, "Anything you say, Starlight."
"Annie. Please," her smile was earnest, and you were agreeing before you had even processed her words.
When you knocked on her door, Annie answered in jeans and a simple sweater that made you feel a little overdressed, but her smile was soft and warm and the way she seemed genuinely pleased to see you did something unexpected to your heart. You patiently waited until after she had given you the mini-tour to ask your questions.
"What did you have in mind for today?" Your voice was soft, you were in no rush to spend your time with Annie. If she was a good hostess, you wanted to savor her company, and you'd enjoyed the easy chemistry between the two of you in front of the camera.
"You can't laugh," Annie said first, holding a stern finger in your direction, but the corners of her mouth betrayed the smile she was fighting. Once she had your word, she led you back to the kitchen, where a few bowls were already waiting on the counter. "I was thinking we could just hang out and bake some cookies. You know, listen to music, maybe have some wine while they're in the oven, just get to know each other."
The late afternoon light spilled through her kitchen windows, catching the dust motes floating lazily above the counter. You leaned against the doorframe, watching as Annie busied herself pulling ingredients from the cabinets—flour, sugar, brown sugar, vanilla extract—lining them up like soldiers preparing for battle.
"Baking cookies," you repeated, a smile tugging at your lips. "That's... actually really sweet. And deeply domestic for someone who can shoot light lasers from her hands."
Annie ducked her head, that same blush from the set creeping back up her neck. "See? You're already laughing."
"I'm not laughing," you said, and you weren't, not really. There was something disarmingly genuine about this whole thing—the way she'd rolled up her sleeves to her elbows, the way her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with a few strands escaping to frame her face. The Starlight you'd seen on billboards and talk shows was always polished, always camera-ready. This Annie was someone else entirely.
"You promised," she reminded you, pointing the vanilla extract bottle in your direction like she was wielding a tiny glass weapon.
"Okay, okay. Cookies it is." You pushed off from the doorframe and rolled up your own sleeves. "Where do you want me?"
The question hung in the air a beat longer than you'd intended. Annie's eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, the kitchen felt very small. Then she cleared her throat and gestured to the bowl of dry ingredients.
"You can mix the flour and sugar and baking soda together while I melt down the butter?"
"Sure. I can handle that."
She'd already queued up a playlist—something soft, with a folksy undercurrent that matched the golden light stretching across her countertops. You fell into an easy rhythm, the scrape of her spatula against the mixing bowl punctuated by the gentle thunk of the spoon in your hand hitting the side of your own bowl. Every so often, your shoulders would brush as you reached for the same ingredient, and each time, Annie would murmur a soft apology that you pretended not to notice her leaning into.
"So," Annie said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "tell me something. Something real. Not the IMDB fun facts version."
You paused, considering as you poured some of the flour mixture into her bowl. "What do you want to know?"
"I don't know." She scraped down the sides of the bowl as she folded the dry ingredients in, her movements methodical, almost nervous. "What's your favorite memory?"
"That's a big question for a first date."
The word slipped out before you could catch it—date—and you felt your own cheeks warm. Annie's hands stilled on the mixing bowl, and when you risked a glance at her, she was looking at you with something soft and unreadable in her expression.
"Yeah," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I guess it is."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but it was charged, the kind of silence that happens when two people realize they've accidentally stumbled into something neither of them was quite prepared for. The music played on, some song about stars and highway lines, and you found yourself wondering if she'd chosen it intentionally.
"Favorite memory," you said finally, returning to your bowl to give your hands something to do. "I think... probably sitting on my grandmother's porch swing during a thunderstorm. She'd make hot chocolate, and we'd just sit there, watching the rain come down, not saying anything. Just... being."
When you looked up, Annie had stopped stirring entirely. She was just watching you, her expression soft, the kind of soft that made you feel seen in a way that had nothing to do with cameras or scripts or the version of yourself you showed the world.
"That sounds nice," she said. "Really nice."
"Yeah." You cleared your throat. "What about you?"
Annie turned back to her bowl, but not before you caught the way her eyes had gone a little distant, a little sad. "I don't know if I have one. A favorite, I mean. Most of my memories feel like they belong to someone else. Starlight's memories, not Annie's."
The honesty of it landed somewhere in your chest, heavy and unexpected. You set down your whisk.
"Then maybe we should make a new one," you said. "Right here. Right now."
Annie's gaze returned to you, just as soft but now the subtle sadness was replaced by curiosity, and you felt yourself smiling. Gently, you took hold of her hand, and she let go of the spatula as you guided her a few steps away from the counter, to the small open space in her kitchen between furniture and structure.
The music was on the softer side, but that was perfectly fine. Annie's fingers laced with yours, and her other hand came up to your shoulder when your own hand found her waist. "Dance with me?" You murmured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
The song shifted to something slower now, a cover of an old classic with just a guitar and a woman's voice that seemed to wrap around the two of you like the afternoon light. Annie's hand tightened slightly in yours, and you felt her exhale, a soft release of something she'd been holding onto.
"I'm not very good at this," she admitted, her voice soft and quiet.
"At dancing?"
"At... this." She gestured vaguely with her chin, encompassing the kitchen, the cookies, the way you were holding her. "Being normal. Being Annie. Most people don't want that version. They want the costume, the smile, the lines I've memorized."
You swayed gently, not leading so much as suggesting, and Annie followed your movement like she'd been waiting for someone to show her the steps her whole life. Her hand on your shoulder was warm through your shirt, and when she looked up at you, the kitchen light caught something in her eyes that made your breath catch before you could catch yourself.
"I'm not most people," you said.
"No," she agreed quietly. "I don't think you are."
The dance wasn't really a dance, was more of a slow rocking motion, the two of you turning in lazy circles on her kitchen floor. Flour dusted the counter behind her, the forgotten cookie dough waiting patiently in its bowl, and somewhere in the other room, a clock ticked softly. It was the most ordinary moment you'd had in years, and somehow, standing here with a superhero in her cozy little kitchen, it was starting to feel like the most extraordinary thing you'd ever done.
Slow minutes passed that way, in a quiet that held you spellbound and was making something protective grow in your chest over a woman who could easily destroy you if she felt the inclination. The song was ending, the last chords fading into something more upbeat, but neither of you moved to let go. Annie's hand stayed on your shoulder, your arm still loose around her waist, the space between you filled with something that felt suspiciously like possibility.
"I should probably finish those cookies," she said, but she didn't step back.
"You probably should."
Neither of you moved.
Then Annie laughed, a real laugh, unguarded and bright, and ducked her head again, her hair falling forward to hide her face. "This is ridiculous," she said, but she didn't sound like she minded. "I invited you over to bake cookies and get to know you, and instead I'm just..."
"Just what?"
She looked at you through her lashes, and whatever she saw in your expression made her cheeks flush pink. "Just falling for you a little bit," she admitted. "And that's terrifying, because we filmed one scene together, and I don't even know your middle name or whether you take your coffee with sugar or if you're secretly working for Vought or—"
You kissed her.
It wasn't like the kiss on set, choreographed and lit and performed for cameras. There was no powdered sugar between your lips this time, no director calling cut, no audience waiting to judge the angle of your face. It was just you and Annie and the warm kitchen and the way she made a small surprised sound before melting into you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like she was afraid you might disappear.
Can you do Starlight x male reader where she says that while she womt wear her second costume in public(the Vought made one thats pretty revealing) she will keep it so that she can wear it in the bedroom with the reader silently celebrating it cause he finds her hot af in it
Annie gives a twirl in her original Starlight outfit…
Annie: what do you think? I’m taking back my power.
Y/N: good on you, baby. I’m proud of you.
Annie; you’re a little disappointed aren’t you?
Y/N: is it wrong I liked looking at you in the other outfit?
Annie: I’m saving it for our “special” nights (winks)
what about something for starlight x reader going on a date somewhere ?
Annie didn't like to go out to eat too often the more recognizable she became. She never minded when children got excited to see her, but she had become jaded to the adults who were far less pleasant and respectful than their youthful counterparts. You couldn't blame her for it, and she was already more patient than you would be in her shoes.
The restaurant she had chosen was tucked away on a side street, its entrance marked only by a small, wrought-iron sign and a single, softly glowing lantern. Inside, the world fell away. The low hum of conversation was a gentle murmur, and the lighting was kept to the intimate glow of candles on each linen-draped table. It was the kind of place where people came to be unseen, or at least, unbothered.
Dinner was a leisurely affair of small plates and shared bites. You talked about everything and nothing: a book you’d just finished, a funny thing her dog (who lived with her mom now) had done that morning, the ridiculous plot of a rom-com you’d both seen years ago and were open to seeing again. There were no phones on the table, no scanning of the room over your shoulder. There was just Annie, fully present, fully yours.
As the plates were cleared, a comfortable silence settled between you, filled only by the quiet clink of silverware from other tables and the soft strains of piano music from hidden speakers. Her hand rested on the tablecloth, and you reached across, your fingers lightly tracing the back of it. She turned her hand over, interlacing her fingers with yours. Her skin was warm, her grip sure.
“Thank you for this,” she murmured, her thumb tracing a slow circle on the knuckle of yours.
“For dinner?” you teased gently.
“For this,” she reiterated, her gaze holding yours. “For a normal night. For… not making me be Starlight. Just for letting me be me.”
Your heart ached with the simplicity of it. You lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You,” you said quietly, “are my favorite person. In any version.”
A faint blush crept up her cheeks, visible even in the dim light. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a small shadow appeared at your elbow.
“Excuse me?”
You both turned. A little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, stood there, clutching a cloth napkin in her small hands. Her eyes were wide, fixed on Annie with an expression of pure, unadulterated awe. A few feet away, a flustered-looking woman was half-rising from her table, a silent apology already forming on her lips.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman's voice was soft but urgent as she reached for her daughter. “Sweetie, come back here, we don’t interrupt people…”
But Annie just smiled. A real, warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “It’s okay,” she said softly to the mother, then looked down at the little girl. “Hi there.”
The girl took a tiny, brave step forward. “Are you Starlight?" Her eyes were wide as saucers, awed as they looked up at your date unwaveringly. It made you hide a smile behind your glass of water.
“I am,” Annie said. “My name’s Annie.”
The girl beamed. “I’m Lily. I went to your show last month with my dad!" The girl's smile widened impossibly further, a gap-toothed grin that was pure sunshine. "You were so pretty and you flew all the way up to the ceiling! Higher than anyone!"
Annie laughed, a soft, delighted sound. "Well, I had a lot of practice. Did you have a good time?"
Lily nodded so vigorously that you worried for her neck. "The best. I wanna be a hero when I grow up. Just like you."
You watched Annie's expression soften into something so tender it made your chest ache. This was the version of her the cameras never caught. No practiced smile, no PR-trained graciousness. Just pure, genuine connection.
"Just like me, huh?" Annie squeezed your hand under the table before letting go, turning fully to face the girl. "Well, Lily, the most important thing about being a hero isn't the flying or the lights. You know what it is?"
Lily shook her head, spellbound.
"It's wanting to help people. Really wanting it, in here." Annie tapped gently over her own heart, then reached out and did the same to Lily's chest. The girl looked down at the spot like Annie had just bestowed a blessing. "And I think you've already got that part figured out."
Lily's mother had finally made it to the table, looking mortified but also slightly star-struck herself. "I am so, so sorry to interrupt your dinner—"
"Don't be," you said warmly, earning a grateful glance from Annie. "She's made Annie's night."
Annie nodded, reaching for a cloth napkin from the table. "Do you have a pen, by any chance?"
The mother patted her pockets frantically, producing a pen from somewhere. Annie took it and carefully unfolded the napkin, smoothing it on the table. "Okay, Lily. This is a very fancy napkin, so this is a very fancy autograph. Deal?"
Lily nodded, practically vibrating.
Annie wrote slowly, deliberately, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she worked the ink over the slightly scratchy fabric, a habit you'd come to find unbearably endearing. When she finished, she folded it carefully and handed it to Lily. "There. Now you have a fancy napkin autograph to remember tonight."
Lily clutched it like it was made of gold. "Thank you, Starlight. Thank you!"
"Annie," she corrected gently. "You can call me Annie."
As the mother finally managed to steer her daughter back to their table, Lily turned around one last time to wave. Annie waved back, and you caught the slight sheen in her eyes before she blinked it away.
You reached for her hand again, reclaiming it. "You're good at that."
"It's easy with kids." She shrugged, but you could feel a slight tremor in her fingers. "They don't want anything from me except... me. Just the idea of me. It's when they get older that—" She stopped herself, shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get heavy."
"You're allowed to get heavy." You lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles again. "That's part of this, too. All of you, remember?"
She looked at you for a long moment, something vulnerable and searching in her eyes. Then she smiled, that real smile you'd do just about anything to see. "How'd I get so lucky?"
"I ask myself that every day," you said. "Usually when I'm watching you steal the covers, because you're too cute for me to take them back and let you freeze."
She laughed, bright and unguarded, and a few heads turned at nearby tables, not with the sharp curiosity of fans recognizing a celebrity, but with the gentle approval of people witnessing something genuinely sweet between a young couple.
The waiter appeared with discretion, clearing the last plates and leaving a small leather folder with the check. You reached for it, but Annie was faster.
"My treat," she said. "You're stuck with a hero who actually has a Vought credit card. Might as well use it for good."
"I'm dating a woman with corporate-sponsored dinner benefits. I've truly made it," you grinned at her playfully.
She rolled her eyes, still smiling, as she slid the card into the folder. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I do." She said it simply, honestly, her eyes meeting yours without the slightest hesitation. "I really do."
annie january who is an absolute sweetheart to her beloved girlfriend
annie january who stays up late to help you take off your makeup because you’re too tired after work to do it yourself—she’d sit you down on the sink in the bathroom as she takes the cleanser onto her fingers and gently washes your face.
annie january would press sweet kisses to your lips in between the process as she tells you how gorgeous you are and how lucky she is to be loved by you.
