So like hypothetically if I asked for a part 2 to the hypothetical blonde blazer x cyn reader (possibly turned into a z-team x reader where blazer just tries to make up excuses as to why they’re there while reader screws around in the background) how would you hypothetically respond? All hypothetical ofc
"Yellow Words From The Dark" Part 2 Mandy / Blonde Blazer x Cyn!Reader
Blonde Blazer did not announce her arrival.
That alone was unusual.
The Torrance SDN building glowed the way it always did—white light, glass, corporate reassurance baked into every reflective surface—but Mandy slipped through a side entrance instead of the front doors. Her amulet hummed low against her sternum, a persistent vibration she kept mistaking for nerves.
She told herself this was temporary. An assessment. A containment decision.
Behind her, the person(?) followed.
Not closely. Not distantly. At an angle that never quite aligned with Mandy’s peripheral vision.
Their gait was wrong, too careful, like gravity was a suggestion rather than a rule. Every few steps their head tipped sideways, neck joint clicking faintly, until they steadied it with one hand. Their feet pointed inward as they walked, shoes scuffing the polished floor.
“Quiet traversal,” ██████ murmured. “Successful.”
Mandy flinched, then caught herself. “You don’t need to narrate,” she said, sharper than intended.
██████ looked at her. Really looked. Yellow eyes reflective in the overhead lights.
“Understood,” they said. A beat. “Reduced narration.”
Two seconds passed.
“Silence imitation.”
Mandy exhaled through her nose and kept walking.
She still didn’t know why she’d brought them here.
No, that wasn’t true.
She knew the reasons, they’d been unconscious in an alley, anomalous readings, non-hostile behavior, no criminal activity she could immediately pin on them. SDN had protocols for displaced supers, undocumented metas, even extradimensional refugees.
What it didn’t have protocols for was the feeling in her chest when she’d tried to leave them behind.
A subtle pressure. A sense of wrongness. As if abandoning them would create a problem larger than keeping them.
She told herself that was empathy.
She did not consider the possibility that it wasn’t entirely her thought.
The hallway to the live-in quarters was mercifully empty at first. Late shift. Reduced staff. Mandy walked with the brisk confidence of someone who absolutely belonged here, even as her mind scrambled for excuses.
Consultant. Witness. Temporary asset. None of them fit.
Behind her, ██████ paused at a wall-mounted hero poster and leaned in close, nose almost touching the glass.
“Observation,” they said softly. “Brand consistency.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Mandy said automatically.
██████ pulled their hands back and clasped them behind their back. “Compliance.”
They resumed walking.
The first person they ran into was Prism.
Alice was leaning against the vending machines near the junction corridor, light idly spiraling around her fingers as she scrolled through her phone. She looked up mid-swipe, and froze.
Her pupils dilated.
“Oh,” she said, smiling slowly. “Hi.”
Mandy felt her shoulders tense. “Prism. You’re… still here.”
“Late edits,” Alice replied absently, eyes never leaving the Reader. “And, wow. You didn’t tell me we were getting a new one.”
██████ tilted their head. Too far. Corrected it with their hand.
“Greeting,” they said. “Hello, luminous individual.”
Alice laughed, bright and delighted.
“You’re creepy,” she said fondly. “I love it.”
“Affection acknowledged,” the Reader replied.
Mandy stepped in. “They’re not... they’re with me.”
Alice’s grin widened. “Yeah, I figured.”
She circled once, slow, appraising. Light refracted oddly around the Reader, bending in angles Alice wasn’t consciously shaping.
Her instincts were screaming predator, not attacking, not hostile, just waiting. But the feeling thrilled her more than it scared her.
“What’s your name?” Alice asked.
They opened their mouth.
They spoke.
The name slid out of Alice’s mind like oil over glass. Her smile faltered for half a second.
“…Okay,” she said, blinking. “That’s not fair.”
Mandy stiffened. “This is—temporary.”
“Sure it is,” Alice said breezily, circling ██████ like she was appraising a sculpture. “They’ve got vibes. Big vibes. Creepy-cute. Like—” she snapped her fingers, light flaring, “—if static learned how to people.”
██████ tracked her perfectly as she moved.
“Compliment acknowledged,” they said. “Tail wag imitation unavailable.”
Alice laughed, delighted. “Okay, that was adorable.”
Mandy opened her mouth to shut this down—
—but the ██████ suddenly leaned forward, peering at Alice’s glowing hands.
“Photokinesis,” they murmured. “Pretty.”
Alice’s heart skipped.
She hadn’t told them that.
“…Yeah,” she said slowly. “You’re not wrong.”
For a moment, Alice could swear the light bent toward the Reader, not the other way around.
Then Mandy stepped between them. “We need to get going, if you don't mind”
Mandy’s stomach tightened.
Alice laughed it off, stepping back. “Well. Whatever you are, welcome to SDN. Try not to eat the building.”
“Consumption not scheduled.” ██████ replied.
Mandy dragged them gently but firmly down the hall before Alice could ask more questions.
Behind them, Prism watched, light coiling tighter around her fingers, smile thoughtful rather than playful now.
They didn’t make it much farther before a portal irised open in the air ahead of them.
Malevola stepped through, broadsword resting easily on her shoulder. She took one look at the Reader and stopped.
Her expression did not change.
“Child?” she asked in a one word question.
██████ straightened.
“Classification uncertain.” they replied.
Malevola knelt anyway, bringing herself level with them. Her presence was grounding, solid demonic gravity rather than human warmth.
“You’re shaking.” she observed.
██████ looked down at their hands. They were trembling, just slightly.
“Kinetic posture unstable,” they admitted. “But… fine.”
Malevola nodded, like that explained everything. She reached out, adjusting ██████’s collar with surprising care, fingers lingering just long enough to ensure they were real.
“You’re cold,” she observed.
“Temperature sensation minimal.”
“Hm.”
Malevola straightened, turning her gaze to Mandy. “You’re planning to hide them in the live-ins.”
Mandy froze. “I—”
“You don’t know what they are,” Malevola continued calmly. “But you know they don’t belong on the street.”
It wasn’t a question.
Mandy swallowed. “…Yes.”
Malevola looked back at ██████. Studied the way their shadow didn’t quite line up. The way space felt thicker around them.
Then she nodded once.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
██████ tilted their head.
“Thank you,” they said, sincerely.
Malevola smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”
But she stepped aside, letting them pass.
██████ watched her go, head tilted.
“Protective entity,” they murmured. “Noted.”
They were almost to the residential wing when Courtney appeared out of nowhere.
She phased into visibility directly in front of them, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unamused. Stood at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed, inhaler clipped at her belt. Her eyes flicked between Mandy and the Reader.
“Hey blondy” she said flatly. “What the hell is that?”
██████ stopped dead.
Mandy’s mind blanked for half a second.
“That’s none of your business,” she said quickly. Courtney scoffed. “Funny, because brand new people in SDN are my business.” Courtney’s gaze flicked to ██████. “They don’t blink.”
“I blink.” ██████ said immediately. “Blink.”
They squeezed their eyes shut once. Hard. Too deliberate.
Courtney recoiled. “Oh, hell no.” ██████ tilted their head, studying Courtney with unsettling intensity.
“Suspicion and respiratory strain detected,” they said. “you are tense.”
Courtney bristled. “Don’t analyze me.”
“Understood,” ██████ replied. A pause. “Ceasing analysis.”
They did not stop looking.
Courtney’s hand hovered near her inhaler. “You’re making excuses,” she said to Mandy. “Why?”
Mandy opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
For a terrifying moment, she couldn’t remember why she’d brought ██████ here, only that it would be wrong not to.
██████ leaned slightly closer to her, not touching.
“Stress indicators elevated,” they whispered. “Assistance.”
Mandy’s breath steadied.
“I’m responsible for them,” she said firmly. “That’s enough.”
Courtney searched her face, then the ██████'s.
“…Fine,” she said at last. “but you’re making a mistake.”
Courtney vanished again, leaving behind a chill and the echo of distrust. After a beat ██████ replied to the empty air “Possibility acknowledged,” they replied. “Goodnight, Courtney.” Mandy didn’t notice that ██████ suddenly knew someones name. She was already ushering the Reader down the hall, heart pounding, thoughts reassuringly smooth.
They reached the live-in room at the end of the hall, small, utilitarian, meant for exhausted heroes between shifts or SDN Staff who have to work overnight.
Mandy used her masterkey to open the door.
“Just for tonight,” she said again, more to herself than anyone else.
██████ stepped inside, looking around with quiet fascination. They sat on the edge of the bed, posture awkward, feet turned inward, hands folded in their lap.
“Temporary containment accepted,” they said.
Mandy leaned against the doorframe, suddenly exhausted.
She didn’t see the way the ██████'s eyes followed her every movement.
Didn’t hear the almost-silent hum beneath their voice as they added, to no one at all:
“Integration proceeding.”