loba andrade/crypto | park tae joon; established relationship; hurt/comfort; post broken ghost; apex rarepair week; 1883 words
a/n: first thought is why the fuck did ao3 butcher crypto’s name so bad.. that’s not how his name is said. taejoon is one word. crypto im so sorry
secondly, this has been my agenda this whole time. welcome to cryptloba hell, population me. i absolutely adore these two with all my heart, i was so excited for finally write for them, and will be doing so later this week, as it’s apex rarepair week! the prompt i went for for this one was meet the parents and well... you get the idea. angst time baby
@apex-rarepairweek thank you for hosting this wonderful week!
likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated
ao3 mirror in the reblogs!
Preview:
The thief’s mouth hung open in her rambles, before she looked up to Crypto, still standing in the rain with his hands in his pockets, hair flat against his face. The shadow over her eyes fell now, mascara running down her cheeks as she wiped the nose with the back of her hand in an uncharacteristically sloppy way. “...Am I doing them wrong, Park? Have I done bad by them?”
The gentle sound of the radio was enough to not make the room sound so deafening in its silence, raindrops hitting the window like tears from the clouds, as if knowing the day to the date, and mourning on her behalf. The song was a lighthearted one, one about running away to the big city - an older one, from more than many years ago, somehow still prevalent on the radio stations that she tended to be drawn towards. Was it because this music was a comfort to her? Her father always cared a lot for songs like those, and he would whisk herself and her mother around the living room while some lovelorn fool sang about a Caroline or an Eileen.
Loba was gentle in the way she did her makeup, having mastered her technique in the past few years - her philosophy had always been to not get caught, but if she were to be, she had to look her best. She closed one eye, gently placing a synthetic eyelash over the smokey eye makeup she’d carefully painted on already, pulling away and staring at herself in the vanity mirror in her room, and hand running through one of the shorter braids, the ends of her hair no longer stark red and now simply a subdued blonde. Her eyes fell on a small polaroid in the corner of the vanity, moving to run two fingers of the faces of the two adults - a suited man and a smiling woman - staring at the young child with a wide smile and a small tooth gap. The thief smiled a little, at the way the girl was so oblivious to her future, her happiness at that moment forever caught, to be cherished and longed for. She stared for a moment or two more, hand pulling away to catch a glance of the two parents by the girl’s shoulders, just as happy as she, before she stood to her feet, grabbing the leather-gloved form the edge of the desk before she opened the door, and began heading out of the dropship, passing by the kitchen and listening to the clicking of her boots against the floor-
“You’re awake early.”
She jumped at the sudden voice, shooting a glare over to the table in the dropship’s kitchen, where a pair of eyes stared back at her from over the back of a laptop. “For god's sake, Crypto, make yourself known. Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry.” He almost looked sheepish for a moment, pulling down his laptop screen so she could see his face, the clear bags under his eyes from behind his glasses and the weak smile he gave. “You’re looking very… monotone.”
Loba hummed, doing a little half-hearted spin. “I have places to be. Quite in demand, don’t you know?”
“Hm. Visiting death, are we?”
“I guess you could say that.”
He frowned at her for a moment, brow furrowing before he closed the lid of his laptop and stood to his feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Grabbing my coat.”
“What- no, you’re not coming with me.”
He didn’t respond, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way back to his room.
“Crypto!” The thief called out to him, but again he didn’t respond, not even so much with a turn. And though she gave an exasperated sigh and folded her arms across her chest, she didn’t try to leave him behind in this momentary blindspot. Deep down, she was almost glad for the company. Especially his.
The hacker soon returned, now donning a fuzzy black coat, somewhat more professional and warmer than his normal attire, though still jarring to see him in something that wasn’t white or green… though, hints of his usual accent still came through, in the formal shirt and tie he still wore underneath. Hands were shoved into his pockets, clearly fiddling with the cube he always carried with him, more for comfort than out of function. Crypto shot her a small nod as she turned to look at him, quickening his pace a little to join her at her side. “So-”
Before he could finish, he was cut off as she ran a hand down his chest, feeling the soft material of his coat under her fingertips with a soft expression. It wasn’t often they shared moments like this - the two were discrete about their relationship, especially since their mission had led to both… complications and rifts in the group, but also new bonds being formed, including their own. Interactions between the two were kept strictly professional when eyes were on them… but now Loba fixed his coat collar, a sad smile on her face, perhaps getting a bit closer than what she would have normally. But it was the early morning, and the open kitchen was silent. It was just them. What did they have to hide?
Crypto’s smile was weak, and embarrassed, perhaps still not used to the shift between professionalism and PDA. His voice cracked a little as he continued with his train of thought. “S-so, where are we going?”
Loba pulled her hands away from him, tucking her arm into his with a solemn nod, as if to hype herself up. “The closest thing I remember being a home to me. ...To Olympus.”
The ride was quiet, but they both were tense. Loba knew that Crypto never liked crowds, not much - it was bad enough that a handful of the legends knew who he really was, but being so visible was a threat, even if these people had never heard of Taejoon Park before. She reached a hand over to him without looking to make it obvious, feeling for his hand to hold onto for comfort, as she knew the way his eyes fell on her and his face softened in a way that only she knew. The thief gave him a glance, and a small smile, running a thumb over the back of his knuckles, to comfort him, but also perhaps to comfort herself, as through the window the overview of the city so foggy in her memories became clearer. It was so different, and yet... not at all. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it kept coming back, enough to make it hard for her to breathe as they left the landing zone and headed down a familiar road, being dropped off at the front of an extravagant building, where pedestrians entered through lavish double doors. She exited the taxi they had shared, a hand holding onto the door for a moment before she quietly shut it.
“Damn rain,” she grumbled, though it was certainly half-hearted, pulling out her cane and extending it to lean against it, in the way she usually did, her other hand over her eyes to avoid damage to her makeup.
Behind her, the taxi started up again, driving away as the hacker now joined her at her side, hands in his pockets. He hummed.
“What?”
“You haven’t told me everything about yourself. If I knew any better, I would make a joke that this was your second home… the gaudiness is fitting. But…” He looked over to her, and the way she stared back at him.
Loba swallowed. “Yes, well I… the loss of my family to that… demon… meant I have lost my home, my heritage. I have no grave to return my good wishes to, so I…” With her cane, she gestured towards the building in front of them - to the restaurant where all but one little girl had lost her life over twenty years before.
There was a long, drawn-out silence, the only sound being the sound of rain that his the pavement leading up to the glowing restaurant doors.
“I feel my papa would have liked you.”
“Hm?” He glanced down to her, how the rain fell down the sides of her face and how the gloomy sunlight cast a dark shadow over her eyes.
“He would have liked you. From… what I remember, anyway. He was a kind man, a family man. ...Yes, he would have liked you.” Her voice quivered as she repeated herself.
“...Loba, I-”
“-And mama would have too. Oh, the things she would say, I can almost hear them, in a distant sort of way. ‘Mi yerno es un ángel.’, I think is the phrase she’d say… I-I’m sure she would call us married already, she was a housewife type despite her… her profession-”
“Loba.”
The thief’s mouth hung open in her rambles, before she looked up to Crypto, still standing in the rain with his hands in his pockets, hair flat against his face. The shadow over her eyes fell now, mascara running down her cheeks as she wiped the nose with the back of her hand in an uncharacteristically sloppy way. “...Am I doing them wrong, Park? Have I done bad by them?”
He didn’t know what to say. He’d never had this issue before, not for himself - what was done with him was done, and he had no one to mourn… no parents, and no sister. He quickly swallowed before he could ride down that thought path. Reaching a hand out of his pocket, he took hers and gently squeezed. “You… are an amazing woman. They know that, surely, from where they reside. Regardless of what you have done, or will do, you are still theirs. Be proud.”
That’s when her face, that had tried so hard to remain like stone despite her tears, wrinkled, and her grip on his hand grew tighter with a squeeze, before she burst into sobs and practically threw herself onto him, burying her face into his shoulder, as if to hide her dignity, her hands moving to claw onto his back and hold it as if he would leave her at a moments notice.
He didn’t move, unsure if she would shatter in his arms like fragile glasswork, so perfect and delicate as she shook in the cold and the pressure of containing herself, but soon Crypto held her back, and brought her close, the warmth still foreign to him, even after all the times that had done this behind closed doors. No… it was never like this. Loba was strong, she held her cards close to her chest, and only let herself be vulnerable when she knew she had nothing to lose - and to her, she still had everything to lose. Losing her legacy, her revenge on the simulacrum that took her life away from her. The hacker held her close, holding the back of her head with a hand, quietly shushing her muffled sobs as he ran a hand through her hair, now knotted and wavy with the rain.
“Te amo,” she whispered into his neck, before pulling away and looking up to him, smiling despite herself as she wiped her eye, now red, though not like her usual makeup attire, with the back of her finger, smiling despite herself as she moved a hand to brush at his shoulder. “Sorry about the makeup all over your coat.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, moving to cup her face with one hand and brush his thumb under her other eye, still wet from tears. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You will be fine. Saranghae.”
What I want to say when I say you should consider cryptloba: (long winded rant about opposites attract, when in reality they’re the same/how the broken ghost can mean ash but also mean the two of them - broken by trauma and ghosts of their past/how two traumatised adults receding into persona take comfort in one another, can grow and adapt and move on in each other’s company, and how they’re probably the only people in the world that can understand each other’s pain, and that’s something so beautiful and special)
Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Loba Andrade; established relationship; secret relationship; post-broken ghost; formal events; alcohol tw; 1861 words
a/n: AND ITS ALL DONE. I DID THE WEEK. still kinda sad i fumbled over the past two days but!!! i wrote 7 fics in a row, and posted them, and im so proud of myself for doing just that.
wanted to flip back around and write cryptloba again for @apex-rarepairweek day 7, which was a free day. so i just went.. crazy stupid. i was aiming for ~2000 words for the grand finale to this wonderful week, but i wont drag out what little inspo i can gather! hope you all had as much fun this week as i did! <3
likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated
ao3 mirror in the reblogs!
Preview:
The thief twirled her keys around her finger for a moment, before sticking it into the cork guarding the top of the bottle of wine they were about to share, popping it open and pouring it into the plastic, disposable cup Crypto held, before pouring her own, and putting the bottle down on the floor beside her feet, ready for another top-up. “How romantic.”
“Isn’t it just?” He held his cup up to her in a toast, to which she accepted, the two of them giggling a little at the anticlimactic clunk of plastic before taking a drink.
They shared the silence for a moment, before Loba rested her head against his shoulder again, as she had done at the party, putting her free hand against his leg, smirking to himself as he tensed a little, though her expression soon softened as he did, resting his head against hers. She closed her eyes. “One day, I’ll be able to tell the world just how great of a man Taejoon Park is.”
“And what will you do?”
“I’ll scream it at the top of my lungs, at every chance I get.”
At the end of every season, officials held a big formal event to celebrate the achievements of the legends, and to flaunt how much money they had. Crypto never really cared for it; too loud, too many variables to consider, too high of a risk for him to get caught. But somehow, every time, he was roped into it. And somehow, he surely couldn’t imagine why, he always hated it.
It was Rampart this time. The newest legend was all too excited, blinded by the lights and the flashy formalities that came with her golden card into the games, up to her neck in the wealth but seeming to never lose her… less-than-grateful charm that he almost enjoyed, if not for her pushiness to get him involved in the antics. But he would humour her. He’d humoured Mirage when he got here, then Wattson the season after, and then finally Loba, the newest legend before the younger Brit had arrived, who offered her hand to dance with him in one corner of the ballroom that night, despite everything that had happened that caused a strain between a once-tight group. (He should have blamed her, he should, but he took her hand and danced with her that night, and to say that he had fallen for her charms - not the charms of Loba, the thief, but Loba Andrade, the woman who had cared to check on him after the ghost was no longer broken - was an understated fact.)
But, as always, things soon took a turn for the worst, even more so than before. Rampart and Mirage had begun arguing over something or other, Octane had caused chaos in the bathrooms (he didn’t even want to know about that), there was a commotion with the reporters that had arrived for an exclusive scoop that he hadn’t managed to catch, and all the while he had remained in one corner, a glass of wine in hand, and unlike any party before, no one had dragged him to dance. ...Well, no one like before, anyways, when he was just as isolated. Crypto stole a glance around - where was the thief anyway? He was sure he’d seen her earlier that night, arriving arm and arm with the rest of the female legends, absolutely stealing the show with her glamour and charm. But now, among the atmosphere of tension and animosity as the cracks and strains had begun to show between business partners - no, between friends - she’d disappeared into the night, as was in her job description.
“Ah, Mr. Kim?” An unfamiliar voice snapped him out of his search, if only momentarily, as he looked down to the rather short, bespeckled man, in a tatty denim jacket and a hastily put-on tie, wielding a notebook. “Apologies, I’m sure you’re enjoying yourself here… on your own… but I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind.”
And of course, he too wasn’t immune to harassment by the press. He was disappointed, but not in the least bit surprised.
The questions were just as invasive as he expected, though the reporter was nervous and stuttering over his words, staring down at his notebook in surprise at some of the things coming out of his mouth from a script, so there was some sympathy there. He was just trying to get by, working the grift, as it were - had he still had his old life, Crypto would have inclined to offer more sympathy in solidarity, but this was just pathetic.
He eventually had to excuse himself, getting more and more paranoid as the kid pressed on, quickly apologising before weaving his way through the crowd, where people got too close and for a moment he caught his breath as he felt them almost grab at him - but surely he was just imagining things, imagining his nightmares. Right? ...Right?
The hacker pushed open the door with one hand, dragging his hand down his face as he did. He needed air, needed space. The hacker loosened the tie around his neck, no longer used to wearing them day in and day out as he had done before, in what seemed like a life so distant to him now, popping a button before heading to the balcony, a tall figure already standing there catching his eye.
Loba was pretty in any lighting, but the moonlight seemed to make her look almost divine, the light catching off of the many crystals that littered her dark red dress, lighting up the velvet as it pooled around her feet, like the blood she spilled and shed so often in the arena that she had made her home, but in a way that was… befitting of her grace.
He didn’t say anything to her, watching her take a slow drink from her flute of champagne, staining the glass with the maroon lipstick she wore so well, dark hair cascading down her shoulders.
In fact, it was she that saw him, and spoke, and he knew the smile that played at her lips as she sparked a conversation. “Too much?”
“Ya.”
“Need a drink?”
“Please.”
Loba chuckled, handing over her half empty flute for him to take a sip out of, the fingers brushing as the glass was exchanged. She folded her arms against the railing. “Though I must say, the look suits you. Very dashing.”
He almost choked as he drank, quickly pulling the glass away from his lips and covering his mouth with the side of his fist, patting his chest with it to force the champagne down, only making her laugh a little more - it was like music, that laugh of hers, though she took far too much pleasure in embarrassing him, even when they were alone. Crypto quickly passed the glass back, which she took delicately in her hand.
“...It was the reporters,” Loba told him, after a few beats of silence, the two of them listened to the sounds of the night, and the quiet muffled noises of the party just behind them.
He glanced at her, thinking back to the commotion in the room. So that’s where she’d been. “You too?”
“They had the… the gaul to ask about my parents, and my relationship with that… demonio. The way he claws his way under my skin, and the way they just… eat it up, everything he’s done to me, for years, the calatorals and the nightmare. I just…” She huffed, holding her flute of champagne and twirling it a few times, lips curling a little as she scoffed. “Odio este lugar.”
He paused, watching as she tilted her head back, how her soft lips took the wine in from the glass in a single drink before bringing it back down again. He leaned in closer to her, and lowered his voice. “Daleun delo gaja.”
Loba paused, and looked over to him, and for a moment, she seemed grateful.“...Sí.”
Crypto tried his best to hold back his sigh of relief, as she looked up to him, her face softening as she put her now empty wine glass on the side of the balcony, and held her hand out to him. Her nails were perfect, rings and her signature bracelet sparkling in the moonlight of the outside, and her skin was soft as he gently took her hand, gently running a thumb over her knuckles. And, after glancing at the many glass doors of the party on the inside, he dared to kiss the back of her hand, to which she chuckled.
“My, so old fashioned.”
“Nothing wrong with the classics.” He looked up to her through his eyelashes, finding himself almost smirking at the banter as he stood up again, never letting go of her hand, though feeling it flip in his light grip to hold onto his in return.
They shared a silent moment of serenity on the balcony together, peace from the expectations of the masses and the responsibilities on their shoulders as Apex Legends, as Loba moved in to rest her head against his shoulder, gently swaying as she took hold of his other hand. Crypto soon obliged, smiling to himself a little as they shared a solitary dance in the back of the moonlight and stars.
Crypto left the party first - no one would object to that, seeing him head out of the front door to catch a taxi back to the dropship. No one had seen Loba leave, but they didn’t pay it much mind - the girl had her buttons pushed, she needed her space. The cover they provided was perfect, as they met again in a park somewhat close but still far enough away from the gala that no one would find them, sitting side by side on a lonely bench, highlighted by a moonbeam. How poetic.
The thief twirled her keys around her finger for a moment, before sticking it into the cork guarding the top of the bottle of wine they were about to share, popping it open and pouring it into the plastic, disposable cup Crypto held, before pouring her own, and putting the bottle down on the floor beside her feet, ready for another top-up. “How romantic.”
“Isn’t it just?” He held his cup up to her in a toast, to which she accepted, the two of them giggling a little at the anticlimactic clunk of plastic before taking a drink.
They shared the silence for a moment, before Loba rested her head against his shoulder again, as she had done at the party, putting her free hand against his leg, smirking to himself as he tensed a little, though her expression soon softened as he did, resting his head against hers. She closed her eyes. “One day, I’ll be able to tell the world just how great of a man Taejoon Park is.”
“And what will you do?”
“I’ll scream it at the top of my lungs, at every chance I get.”
“We can only dream.” He moved his head to take a drink without spilling it on his shirt, sighing in an almost resigned way, before he resumed his position. “I’m tired of hiding.”
“I know, amor. I know.” Loba patted her hand against his leg, feeling her take hold of it and pull it off, interlocking her fingers between the gaps in hers. She moved her head to look at him, the moonlight casting a shadow over his tired eyes. Balancing the plastic cup of wine against the edge of the bench, the thief moved her hand to hold his face, gentle in the way she cupped his cheek as she moved in to share a soft kiss. And, perhaps pushed by the alcohol in his system, he didn’t bother to hesitate in case anyone was watching, returning the kiss and even smiling between pauses to catch his breath, face littered with lipstick kisses by the time they were done.
They ended up finishing their bottle that night, each other’s company far better than the fancy gala and jewels and riches that came with their profession. Yes… solitude would do, for now, until they were finally free to tell the world exactly who they were.
