#crypto x reader

Nsfw content below!!

Summary:

You only wanted to get your grandmother out of the city before it fell apart. Simple plan. Then you ran into him — Crypto, the one person who manages to make chaos look calm.

Now you’re evacuating side-by-side, your grandma and his mom gossiping like old friends, and somehow you have become the topic of conversation. It’s hard enough surviving Solace City, but surviving their matchmaking might actually be harder.

By the time the night ends, you’re not sure what’s burning brighter — the skyline behind you, or the feeling you get every time he looks your way.

Words: 6181

You step into the apartment, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood hitting you immediately. The door clicks shut behind you, and for a second, everything feels normal. It feels like the world outside hasn’t started tipping on its edge. Your grandmother is sitting in her favorite armchair, knitting needles in motion, eyes sharp and unbothered.

“Finally decided to show up,” she says without looking up. Her voice is calm, measured, the kind that makes you feel both exasperated and comforted at the same time. “What took you so long?”

“Gran,” you start, dropping your bag with a soft thud, “we need to go. Now.”

She hums, not slowing her knitting. “Go where? And why? The elevator’s probably still working.”

You run a hand through your hair, exasperation rising. “Because staying here is not safe! They’re evacuating everyone in the sector, and… you can’t just sit here like nothing’s happening.”

She glances at you finally, one eyebrow raised. “Sit here? I’ve lived in this building for fifty years. I think I can handle a little… uncertainty.”

“Uncertainty?” you repeat, voice rising slightly. “Gran, it’s more than uncertainty. Things are… changing. We have to leave before it gets worse!”

She chuckles softly, setting down her knitting. “Child, you worry too much. If the city really wanted to fall apart, I’d be long gone by now.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and kneel to pick up the small bag of supplies you brought. “Look, it’s not about whether you’ll survive. It’s about making sure you’re somewhere safe before you have to deal with… well, anything unexpected.”

She taps her temple lightly with a finger. “I’ve dealt with the unexpected plenty of times. I can handle another day or two here.”

You groan and throw your hands up. “Fine. But I’m not leaving without you. We’re going together, whether you like it or not.”

She tilts her head, assessing you for a long moment. “You’ve got spirit,” she says finally. “I’ll go — but only because stubbornness runs in this family, and I can’t let it win entirely.”

You exhale, half in relief, half in disbelief, as she stands gracefully from her chair. Despite her age, her movements are confident, deliberate, like she’s walked this path a thousand times before. “Good. Now grab your things — and try to keep up,” she adds with a wry smile, already moving toward the door.

You follow, your heart a little lighter despite the tension in the city outside. This is going to be… interesting.

___________________________________________________________________________

You start gathering your bag and double-checking the supplies, but your grandmother isn’t hurrying. She moves at her own measured pace, humming softly as if nothing outside could touch her.

“You know,” she says, pausing to adjust the strap of your bag, “I don’t envy you, rushing around like this. You’d think the world was ending.”

“You wish,” you mutter, sliding your arm through the bag’s strap. “But maybe it kind of is. Sector evacuations aren’t exactly optional, Gran.”

She tilts her head, eyes scanning the hallway with mild interest. “Optional, yes. Smart, maybe. But panicked?” She snorts. “Never that.”

You can’t help but smile despite yourself. “Of course not. Panicking isn’t in your vocabulary.”

Her gaze drifts out the window. You follow, and your stomach drops at the faint orange flash far across the city — an explosion, distant but unmistakable, lighting up the skyline. The sound arrives seconds later, a muted boom rolling softly through the buildings.

“See?” you murmur, pointing. “This isn’t optional anymore.”

She studies the plume in the distance with calm, deliberate interest, as though evaluating a painting. “Hmm. I suppose you have a point. Very well. Let’s be off.”

She gathers her coat, slipping it on with a grace that belies her age. You fall in step behind her, shoulders tense with anticipation. The hallway is quiet, the usual ambient hum of the building now carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

As you descend the stairwell, your grandmother keeps up a running commentary. “Do you always have to act so frantic? You rush about as if the city itself will chase you down these stairs.”

“I like to be prepared,” you reply, gripping the railing. “Unlike some people I know.”

She laughs softly, a sound both warm and teasing. “Some people have the luxury of calm. You’ll learn it one day.”

The stairwell opens onto the main corridor connecting the buildings, and that’s when you notice them. Across the way, emerging from a similar stairwell, are two figures escorting a woman wearing a mask over her face. Her movements are calm, deliberate — every step measured, every glance composed.

And then your eyes meet two familiar pairs — the green-goggled man and the stern figure trailing him. Crypto and Caustic freeze mid-step. Their expressions shift from focused urgency to genuine surprise.

“You…” Crypto breathes, his voice low, incredulous. “You’re here?”

“Looks like someone’s multitasking,” Caustic adds dryly, his gaze flicking from you to your grandmother and back. “I didn’t expect you to be involved in this… personally.”

You can’t help but smirk, feeling a mixture of pride and exasperation. “Surprised? You’re in Solace City, evacuating your mother, and yet somehow you didn’t anticipate running into me.”

Crypto straightens slightly, adjusting his drone controls reflexively. “I… didn’t expect to see another Legend here. Especially not you.”

“Noted,” you reply, shifting your bag on your shoulder. “We’re all just trying to make sure our families get out safely. Nothing dramatic.”

Meanwhile, your grandmother and Mystik have started talking, their conversation flowing effortlessly despite the new arrivals. Your grandmother gives Mystik a subtle nod, her voice calm but teasing.

“You’re still stubborn,” your grandmother says.

“And some things never need to change,” Mystik replies, her tone calm even behind the mask.

Crypto clears his throat, still trying to process the revelation. Caustic mutters something under his breath about planning for contingencies he didn’t expect. You glance at them both, amused, before returning your attention to your grandmother, who’s walking confidently toward the exit.

For a moment, the corridor is silent but charged — two stoic women exchanging words, two Legends sizing each other up across generations, and you in the middle, balancing calm, duty, and a touch of satisfaction at having surprised two of Solace City’s most calculating minds.

___________________________________________________________________________

You start guiding your grandmother down the main corridor, keeping a careful eye on the stairwell exit ahead. Your grandmother, true to form, walks seemingly unconcerned by the presence of Crypto, Caustic, or even the masked Mystik.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice low but sharp, “I’ve always wondered why you’re still single. You’ve got brains, skill… though maybe too much attitude for most people to handle.”

You scowl, gripping your bag tighter. “Excuse me? I’ve got plenty of attitude and charm. Some people just… aren’t ready.”

A soft chuckle comes from across the corridor. Mystik steps a little closer, mask in place, her tone calm but teasing. “Your grandmother has a point,” she says, voice smooth behind the mask. “Though I imagine it takes someone very brave to keep up with you.”

You narrow your eyes and fold your arms. “I can hear you, you know.”

“Good,” your grandmother says, smirking at Mystik. “Then we know she’s paying attention. Someone should keep her humble from time to time.”

Mystik lets out a quiet laugh, tilting her head at you. “Consider it mentorship. Besides, it keeps things interesting for the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You two are conspiring, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” your grandmother says, leaning slightly on her cane for emphasis. “Someone has to guide you before you embarrass yourself in front of the entire city.”

“And I’m just lucky enough to have another teacher join in,” you mutter, feeling equal parts exasperated and entertained.

Mystik gives you a small nod, approving yet playful. “You’ll learn. Or at least, we’ll make sure you think you’re learning.”

You glance at Crypto, who’s standing a little ways behind, adjusting his drone and trying to hide a faint smile, clearly bemused by the entire exchange. Caustic, unsurprisingly, has a resigned expression, muttering something about old women being worse than the city itself.

The three of you continue down the corridor, the playful teasing echoing softly as you lead your grandmother toward the exit. Somehow, despite the underlying tension of the evacuation, the corridor feels lighter — like the calm of two seasoned women outmatching everyone else, even you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The city outside feels eerily hollow. The usual noise — traffic, chatter, neon advertisements humming in the air — is gone, replaced by the low whine of distant engines and the occasional crackle of power lines sparking in the wind.

You and Crypto take point as the group moves down the narrow street toward the evacuation zone. The air feels heavy, carrying the faint scent of ozone and scorched metal — not fire exactly, but the residue of something gone wrong.

Your grandmother walks beside Mystik like they’re on a casual stroll, utterly unbothered by the tension in the air. Caustic follows a few steps behind, silent but vigilant.

Crypto checks his drone feed with quick, practiced motions. “The path ahead’s clear,” he says, voice clipped. “We should move fast — the last ship leaves in ten.”

“Then we’d best keep these two chatterboxes alive,” Caustic mutters, gesturing to the older women.

“Chatterboxes?” your grandmother echoes, affronted but amused. “I’ll have you know we’re walking faster than you are, Doctor.”

Mystik hums in agreement. “Perhaps he’s just not used to keeping pace with women who know what they’re doing.”

You bite back a laugh. “You’re really going to antagonize the guy carrying half our supplies?”

“Of course,” your grandmother replies smoothly. “It keeps him humble.”

Crypto glances over at you — that quiet, unreadable look again — before nodding toward the next alley. “Shortcut through here,” he says.

As you follow, your shoulder brushes his — a brief, unintentional touch, but enough to make you both pause for half a second. You murmur, “Sorry,” even though you’re not sure why it feels like something worth apologizing for.

“It’s fine,” he replies, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “You… handle yourself well.”

You blink, caught off guard. “You sound surprised.”

“I didn’t mean—” He stops himself, a faint flicker of embarrassment behind his calm tone. “I just meant—it’s good to have another professional out here.”

You grin. “Uh-huh. Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Behind you, Mystik and your grandmother are clearly watching, voices low but unmistakably teasing.

“Reminds me of a young me,” your grandmother says under her breath.

Mystik hums, hands folded neatly. “He’s trying very hard not to look too interested.”

“Once more we can hear you, you know,” you call back, exasperated.

“Good,” your grandmother replies, completely unapologetic. “Then you’ll know when I approve.”

Crypto exhales sharply, trying not to laugh — and failing just enough that you catch the edge of a smile tugging at his lips.

The group rounds a corner. Ahead, the evacuation ship looms in the distance, lights cutting through the city haze. The wind picks up, carrying the low roar of engines preparing for launch.

“Almost there,” Crypto says, returning to business but still glancing your way now and then, as if making sure you’re still within reach.

You nod, tightening your grip on your bag. “Yeah. Almost there.”

And for a moment — amidst the quiet chaos, the flickering streetlights, and the dry banter of the two mothers trailing behind — you can’t help but feel that strange warmth of connection again. Not spoken, not defined, but there.

__________________________________________________________________________

The landing zone is a mess of motion and light — shuttles humming, evac teams shouting orders, the metallic tang of exhaust thick in the air. You jog ahead, calling back over your shoulder, “I’ll get the boarding ramp open!”

Crypto gives a short nod. “I’ll make sure the systems are clear.”

You rush inside first, your boots echoing against the hollow interior as you start flipping through the ship’s startup sequence — auxiliary power, oxygen levels, cargo locks. It’s routine work, but your mind keeps wandering back to the quiet glances he kept giving you on the way here.

Outside, the others wait at the edge of the platform. Caustic stays near the perimeter, eyes scanning for movement, while Mystik and your grandmother stand a few paces from Crypto — watching him with the kind of knowing silence that can make anyone sweat.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” your grandmother finally says, folding her arms.

Crypto doesn’t look up from his drone tablet. “Just focused.”

Mystik hums softly. “Focused, yes. But distracted, too.”

He blinks behind his goggles, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You keep looking at her,” Mystik says, voice calm and almost too casual. “You think I didn’t notice? You always did have trouble hiding what you feel.”

“Mother—”

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer. “It’s alright, dear. We all saw it. The way you hover around her like a lost drone.”

Caustic lets out a low, exasperated sigh. “This is unbearably sentimental.”

Crypto lowers his tablet slightly, trying to regain composure. “I was making sure she didn’t fall behind. We’re in an unstable environment—”

Mystik cuts him off, gentle but teasing. “Of course you were. And the way you kept checking if she was still beside you? Very tactical, I’m sure.”

Your grandmother nods approvingly. “Very tactical. And very transparent.”

Crypto exhales through his nose, trying to suppress the smile threatening to form. “You two are relentless.”

“Consider it payback,” Mystik says lightly. “I rarely get to tease you about anything good.”

He glances toward the ship — the faint sound of your voice carries from inside as you work through the power sequence. “She’s… different,” he says quietly before he can stop himself.

Mystik’s eyes soften behind the mask. “I know,” she says simply. “That’s the point.”

You reappear at the ramp, brushing your hands off your pants. “Alright, we’re good to go! Systems are green.”

Mystik and your grandmother share a look — the kind that says we’ll talk later — before moving to board. Crypto straightens, his usual calm expression back in place, though the faintest warmth lingers there when he meets your eyes.

You tilt your head, half-smiling. “Everything okay out here?”

“Fine,” he says quickly. “Just… tactical conversation.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Right. I’m sure.”

Your grandmother gives him a pat on the shoulder as she passes. “He’s a good one,” she says under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear — and for Crypto to freeze again.

Mystik’s soft laugh echoes as she boards behind her. “He’ll figure it out eventually.”

You pause at the ramp, glancing between the two of them — your grandmother looking smug, Mystik inscrutable, and Crypto clearly wishing for a cloaking device.

You shake your head with a small smile. “I really don’t want to know what you were talking about, do I?”

Crypto clears his throat. “Probably not.”

You grin. “Good. Let’s get off this rock, then.”

And as you turn back to the controls, you catch — just barely — the smallest, unguarded smile from him.

___________________________________________________________________________

The shuttle’s engines hum low beneath your feet, a steady vibration running through the floor. The glow of Solace City drifts farther below with every passing second — its skyline flickering like a memory, slowly swallowed by the clouds.

You lean forward in the co-pilot’s seat, watching the sky shift from smoke to stars. Beside you, Crypto adjusts the controls with practiced precision, his posture composed, though you can sense the lingering tension in his shoulders.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing sideways at him.

He hesitates. “I should be asking you that.”

You smirk faintly. “I’m fine. I wasn’t the one dragging family out of a collapsing city.”

That earns a quiet huff of amusement from him — almost a laugh, but not quite. “Fair. Still… not how I imagined the day going.”

“Same,” you admit, sitting back. “I didn’t expect to run into you of all people. Guess we have the same taste in near-death experiences.”

He glances at you, eyes narrowing just slightly behind his goggles — but his lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. “Maybe we both have bad timing.”

“Or good instincts,” you counter, resting your elbow on the armrest. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

He looks at you a moment longer, something thoughtful crossing his expression. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “We are.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward — just heavy with all the things neither of you are saying. You shift your gaze forward again, the stars brightening as the ship climbs higher, leaving the chaos behind.

For a while, that’s all there is — steady flight, shared quiet, and the faint hum of the engines beneath your boots.

__________________________________________________________________________

Back in the cabin, Mystik and your grandmother sit across from each other, the low light painting soft shadows over their faces. The two of them watch through the narrow glass partition toward the cockpit — their children framed by instrument glow and soft conversation.

“They’re comfortable,” your grandmother observes, voice calm but laced with mischief.

Mystik hums in quiet agreement. “He hasn’t been that relaxed in years. It’s… unexpected.”

“Unexpected, but not bad,” your grandmother adds. “I can tell when someone’s interested. He doesn’t even realize it yet, does he?”

Mystik chuckles softly, her gloved hands folded in her lap. “He’s trying very hard to pretend he doesn’t.”

“Mm. He reminds me of you,” your grandmother teases. “The calm ones are always the worst at hiding how they feel.”

“That’s true,” Mystik admits. “And she—” she gestures toward the cockpit window, “—has no idea she’s gotten under his skin.”

Your grandmother smirks. “Oh, I think she’ll figure it out soon enough. She’s sharper than she lets on. Just stubborn.”

“Stubborn,” Mystik repeats, almost fondly. “He could use that. Someone to keep him from vanishing into his own head.”

The older women lapse into a comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the soft flicker of lights from the cockpit. Crypto leans a little closer to say something — a small smile tugging at his lips — and your grandmother catches Mystik’s knowing glance.

“They suit each other,” she says quietly.

Mystik inclines her head. “I was just thinking the same.”

Then, softer still: “He’s been alone a long time. Maybe this is… good for him.”

Your grandmother hums in agreement. “Then we’ll stay out of it. For now.”

Mystik’s eyes gleam faintly through her mask. “For now.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Up front, you finally break the silence, glancing at Crypto again. “You know, for someone who’s all about strategy and composure, you’re surprisingly easy to read.”

He raises a brow, but there’s a hint of challenge in it. “Am I?”

You shrug lightly, trying not to grin. “Guess I’m just observant.”

He tilts his head, voice soft. “Guess so.”

Outside, the clouds part, revealing the endless stretch of stars beyond. You watch the horizon together in the cockpit’s quiet glow — two Legends, two sons of chaos, caught in a rare, still moment.

And somewhere behind you, the faint sound of laughter drifts forward — two mothers, quietly proud, quietly plotting, and entirely too aware of what’s beginning to form between you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The shuttle lands with a gentle thud on the outskirts of the evac zone — far enough from the city that the lights look like distant sparks, but close enough that the air still hums faintly from the chaos left behind.

When the hatch opens, the air outside is cooler, quiet in that post-storm way that makes everything feel slightly unreal. You step out first, scanning the area — a small camp of evac shelters lit by muted lanterns. No noise, no gunfire, just wind and a few scattered voices.

Crypto follows behind you, his drone hovering at his shoulder, light blinking soft amber. The others — Mystik, your grandmother, Caustic — move toward a tent where med teams are setting up. For the first time all day, no one’s rushing.

You breathe in the chill air, rolling your shoulders. “Never thought quiet would sound this strange.”

Crypto hums in agreement, eyes following the skyline. “After everything… it’s almost too quiet.”

You half-smile, glancing sideways at him. “You thinking about your mom?”

He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. It’s… strange seeing her like that. Calm. Like she already knew everything that would happen.”

“She kind of did,” you say gently. “She always looks like she’s three steps ahead.”

Crypto exhales through his nose, half amused. “Guess I got that from her.”

“Except you still get flustered,” you say before you can stop yourself — and the look he gives you makes your heartbeat stumble just a little.

“Do I?” he asks quietly.

The words hang there — not a challenge, not quite teasing either. Just soft and deliberate.

You shift your weight, arms folding loosely. “Maybe.”

The cool night air hums between you, the drone whirring softly as it idles in place. The glow from the nearby tents catches the edges of his goggles, the faint rise and fall of his breath.

He steps closer — not much, just enough that the space between you changes.

“You’re different out here,” he says.

You arch a brow. “Different how?”

“Quieter. But… steady.” His voice lowers, almost thoughtful. “I notice things like that.”

There’s something about the way he says it — quiet, almost reverent — that makes you forget how to answer.

Before you can find the words, your grandmother’s laugh carries faintly from across the camp, joined by Mystik’s calm tone. The spell breaks just slightly, reality sneaking back in.

Crypto glances toward them, then back at you, something unreadable flickering behind his goggles. “They’re probably talking about us again.”

You let out a soft breath, half a laugh, half a sigh. “Then I guess we shouldn’t give them anything to talk about.”

He studies you for a moment longer — long enough for you to feel the air between you shift again, warm despite the cold. His hand twitches slightly, like he might reach out, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

“Maybe next time,” he says quietly.

You swallow, forcing a small, crooked smile. “Maybe.”

The moment stretches — close enough that it feels like the world could tilt one inch forward and everything would change — and then he turns away, calling his drone back with a low command.

You stand there for a few seconds, watching him walk toward the camp lights, the faint amber glow fading with distance.

And you’re left staring after him, heart steady but restless — wondering if that “next time” will come, or if it’s just another unspoken thing between two people who never quite say what they mean.

___________________________________________________________________________

The camp is quiet. You’ve been lying in your cot for hours, listening to the wind tug at the tent canvas. Even wrapped in your jacket, the cold bites through—sleep isn’t happening tonight.

Finally, you sigh and push yourself up. Stepping outside, the night air hits like ice. Your breath puffs in small clouds. A few lamps scatter weak light across the camp, but your attention is drawn immediately to the faint green pulse hovering near the perimeter. The drone—Crypto’s drone.

His tent sits apart from the others, like always. You hesitate a beat, shivering, then square your shoulders. Bold move or not, you need warmth. Or company. Maybe both.

You tap the edge of the flap. “Hey—it’s me—”

The words die in your throat. In a blur, a shadow moves faster than your eyes can track. A hand grabs your arm, yanking you forward, and before you can react, another force sweeps your legs out. You hit the ground hard, the canvas scraping your skin.

Crypto lands on top of you, knee pinning your side, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other bracing against the ground for balance. Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. Heart hammering, you freeze under his sudden, overpowering presence.

“Whoa—Crypto! It’s me!”

His eyes widen, the tension in his body freezing for a moment before recognition clicks. “Shit… you?”

The pressure on your chest eases slightly, but he’s still hovering, careful now, scanning your face like he can’t quite believe it. “You shouldn’t—sneak up like that,” he mutters, voice low and tense, almost shaking.

You lie there, still pinned, cold and rattled. “Yeah, well—you shouldn’t almost tackle people in the middle of the night.”

A rough exhale. He rubs a hand over his face, goggles catching the faint light. “Reflex. I—sorry. Didn’t know it was you.”

You manage a shaky laugh, heart still racing. “Guess that’s what I get for being brave—or stupid.”

Finally, he eases off, letting you sit up. The silence that follows is thick, charged. He gestures toward the small heater in the corner. “You’re cold.”

“Freezing.”

Without a word, he adjusts the heater and pulls a spare blanket from his pack, holding it out. Your fingers brush as you take it—hesitant, but lingering. The air between you softens, almost tender.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head. “Too much noise in my head.”

“Yeah,” he says, sitting on the edge of his cot. “Same.”

You settle beside him, careful, close enough to share warmth. Outside, the wind tugs at the tent fabric like restless waves, but inside, the tension has melted into quiet, almost intimate calm.

When you glance at him, he’s staring at the lantern light instead of you, shoulders finally relaxed.

“Next time,” you murmur, “I’ll knock louder.”

A small, dry laugh escapes him. “Please do.”

The adrenaline fades, leaving only quiet understanding—and maybe a spark of something unspoken, something that feels like trust and something more.

___________________________________________________________________________

The heater hums quietly, barely enough to push back the chill, and you’re curled up under the blanket beside him. His shoulder presses lightly against yours, not intentionally, but neither of you moves.

You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, and your arm brushes against his. Your breath catches, and you freeze, heart suddenly aware of every small movement. He doesn’t pull away, but you can feel the faint tension in his body, as if he’s just as aware.

You try to pretend you’re adjusting the blanket, but the contact lingers. His hand shifts, brushing against yours—accidental, you tell yourself—yet it doesn’t move away.

“Uh…” you murmur softly, unsure if he heard you.

He exhales, a quiet, almost inaudible sound, and leans just slightly closer, though he doesn’t seem to notice it himself. Your knees bump, the edges of the blanket touch, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small.

You can feel his warmth seeping through the blanket, and you can’t tell if it’s comforting or just… confusing. Every instinct tells you to scoot away, but another part of you doesn’t want to.

Neither of you speaks. The tent flaps ruffle outside, the wind pressing against the canvas, but inside, the silence is thick with awareness. Every accidental brush of fingers, every inadvertent lean, feels magnified in the quiet.

Finally, you let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, more to yourself than him. “We’re… close,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, with that typical dry tone he can’t quite hide, he mutters, “Yeah… we are.”

You glance at him, catching his profile in the dim light. He’s looking at the lantern instead of you, jaw tight, fingers twitching slightly as if he wants to move but doesn’t.

You tuck yourself a little closer into the blanket, trying to claim some warmth without making it obvious, and he shifts just slightly, the space between you shrinking again.

And just like that, neither of you can sleep—but neither of you moves away either.

___________________________________________________________________________

The blanket is doing nothing to stop the cold. You hug it tighter, shivering despite the warmth.

Crypto shifts again, closer this time, and you’re pressed almost flush against him. Your shoulder bumps his, your arm brushes his, and every accidental touch feels magnified in the quiet of the tent.

“Stop moving,” he mutters, low, almost a growl, though it’s impossible to tell if it’s irritation—or something else.

You freeze. “I’m not—”

But before you can finish, he leans forward, hand brushing against yours under the blanket. The warmth of him sears through the thin fabric, and your breath catches.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, his forehead almost touching yours now. “You’re impossible.”

Your chest tightens. “I—”

He cuts you off with a sharp exhale and finally presses just a little closer, using the “cold” excuse like armor. “You’re freezing,” he says, voice low, tense. “Let me fix that.”

Your nose brushes his. His fingers twitch against yours. The heat between you is electric, unbearable, and the air in the tent feels too thick to breathe.

You want to move, you want to pull back—but part of you doesn’t. Part of you wants to see how far this will go.

His lips are too close, his breath warm against your cheek, and the tension snaps in your chest. Every nerve is alive, every thought gone.

“Crypto…” you whisper, and it’s not a warning. It’s not a joke.

He freezes for a heartbeat, eyes flicking to yours, jaw tight. Then, finally, he exhales, slower this time, almost reluctantly—and the space between you stays charged, too close to ignore, neither of you able—or willing—to move.

___________________________________________________________________________

He leans back just a little, eyes closing as if to collect himself, to give you room to breathe. But his nearness keeps your face flushed, and for a moment, you can’t help but study him — the calm rise of his chest, the faint line of focus still in his features. The slow rise and fall of his chest — it all feels impossibly close, impossibly real.

You should probably move back, but you don’t. Something about the stillness between you draws you in instead. You move closer, your hand hovering near his jaw before brushing lightly against the warmth of his skin. For a moment, your eyes search his one last time — and then, slowly, you close the gap between you. Your lips graze his, soft and uncertain, like the start of a question you’re afraid to ask. He freezes. His eyes snap open in an instant, watching you with wide disbelief. His head tilts back slightly, as if the sudden closeness has caught him off guard. For a heartbeat, he looks uncertain—questioning whether he really felt that, or if his mind’s playing tricks on him.

“Y/N?” he whispers, the sound barely audible. You’re already leaning in again.

“Y/N, what are yo—” he starts, but the words die the moment your mouth finds his once more—this time with more intent, more certainty.

Before he can even react, you pull back just slightly, your eyes searching his again. This time, though, something’s changed—he seems to catch himself, realization flickering across his face.

Without warning, his hand finds the back of your head, and suddenly his lips crash into yours. A small yelp escapes your lips, caught off guard by his sudden boldness—but it doesn’t stop you. Your hand slides from his cheek to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. Your lips move against his messier, needier. His hand cradles to the side of your face, angling you just right, while the other grips your waist with something between desperation and relief.

You moan into the kiss, and he takes advantage, deepening it until you’re practically melting against him. His kiss was rough, all-consuming, tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp as his hands roamed your back, your thighs, like he couldn’t decide where to touch first.

You decided to be bold. Slowly, you pushed yourself up from the mattress you had been trying to sleep on just moments ago and moved closer to him. Your lips never parted as you shifted, feeling the warmth of him holding you, guiding you closer. When you finally settled against him, your chest nearly pressed to his, the world outside the tent seemed to disappear.

“Y/N…” he breathed, voice low and hesitant. You pressed your lips to his again, silencing him, letting the kiss speak everything your words could not.

___________________________________________________________________________

The world settles into stillness again. Outside, the wind has dropped, the drone hums somewhere near the perimeter, and the rest of the camp sleeps. Inside the tent, the air feels fragile—like one wrong word might shatter whatever just passed between you.

You pull back a little, searching his face. Crypto’s eyes are still on you, unreadable behind the faint gleam of his goggles, but his breathing isn’t steady anymore.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Then, quietly, he says, “Why did you come here, Y/N?”

You swallow. “Couldn’t sleep. I was cold.”

He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching—not quite a smile, not quite disbelief. “That all?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. “No,” you admit. “But it’s the easiest answer.”

He studies you, gaze flicking between your eyes as if he’s trying to decide what to believe. Then he leans back a little, running a hand through his hair. “You really have terrible timing.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, almost laughing. “Guess we both do.”

Something in that seems to ease the tension. He exhales, low and quiet, and for the first time since you met him, he looks… unsure. Human.

“I don’t know what this is,” he says at last, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod. “You don’t have to. Not right now.”

He seems to take that in—then gives a small, tired chuckle. “Good. Because I’m not exactly great with… this.”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I figured.”

A silence stretches between you again. But it’s different now—no longer heavy, just present. His hand brushes yours for a moment—barely there, but enough to make you feel it.

Eventually, he glances toward the flap of the tent. “You should get some sleep.”

“Probably.”

You don’t move.

He doesn’t tell you to, either.

The two of you sit there in the soft glow of the lantern until your eyes grow heavy, the cold forgotten, your shoulder just barely touching his.

When you finally drift off, his voice reaches you—quiet, half to himself.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, but there’s a faint smile on your lips as sleep takes you.

___________________________________________________________________________

Morning comes pale and cold. The camp is already stirring—people moving gear, quiet radio chatter, the smell of rehydrated coffee drifting through the air. You blink awake to the muted light slipping through the tent flap. Crypto’s already up, crouched by a console, his drone hovering lazily beside him.

“Morning,” he says without turning.

“Morning.” Your voice is rough, sleep-soft. The memory of last night sits somewhere between you: not spoken about, but heavy enough to change how the air feels.

He glances over his shoulder. “We should eat before we move.”

You nod and step outside. The chill hits immediately, making you pull your jacket closer. Across the clearing, you spot your grandmother sitting with Mystik near the supply crates. They’re talking in low voices, steaming mugs in their hands. When they notice you, they both go very still for half a second—then exchange the kind of look only two mothers can share.

Mystik’s mask tilts ever so slightly, like she’s hiding a smile. Your grandmother’s brows lift. “Rough night, sweetheart?” she asks lightly.

You blink, caught off guard. “Just couldn’t sleep,” you say quickly.

“Mm-hmm.” She takes a slow sip of her coffee. “Interesting. Looked like you finally managed to, though.”

You squint at her. “You two are terrible.”

Mystik’s voice is calm, amused. “We only notice patterns. My son was unusually quiet this morning.”

“Suspiciously quiet,” your grandmother agrees.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not likely,” your grandmother says.

Mystik stands, graceful even in the dust. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep our observations… discreet.” The pause that follows is teasing. “For now.”

Before you can answer, Crypto appears beside you with a packet of rations and two mugs of coffee. He hands one to you without a word, then glances between the older women, realizing instantly that he’s walked into something.

Both mothers give him matching, knowing smiles. He freezes, eyes narrowing slightly behind his goggles. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mystik says smoothly. “Just enjoying the morning.”

Crypto’s gaze flicks to you; you’re already trying not to laugh into your cup.

“Right,” he mutters, stepping away. “Enjoy it quietly.”

Your grandmother waits until he’s out of earshot before leaning in and murmuring, “He’s a good one, dear. Careful not to let him vanish.”

You shoot her a look. “You too, Grandma.”

{Requests are open}

Anime

- Gojo Satoru

- Nanami Kento

- Haida

-Sanji

Shows

- Spencer Reid

- Daryl Dixon

- Sam Winchester

- Joe/Will

- Mark (Invincible)

- Hannibal Lector

Games

- Mammon

- Crypto

- Caleb

- Zayne

Movies/Books

- Coriolanus Snow

to build hype around the new season, your arrival to the games was kept a secret up until it went live, and some legends had more notable reactions than others.

character x legend!reader

includes crypto, octane, and mirage !

a/n : im sorry ive been gone but look i made you some contenttttt daddy made you your favorite open wide 🥳. im noticing a severe lack of apex fanfics rn so here is my contribution 🤲.

warnings : mentions of stalking (average crypto behavior), drugs (average octane behavior), & mentions of hooking up (you guessed it, average mirage behavior).

a/n; a simple, yet cute concept as the legends ponder about the question.

Sorry it took me a while to respond, studying for exams has been really time consuming. I hope you enjoy!

Crypto x Reader Headcannons

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Crypto is a very gentle lover, he tries his best to give you the attention you need even if a lot of his time is spent on his computers

• His love languages are definitely quality time and physical affection

• He likes to just be in your presence, whether that's watching a movie together, or simply just being in the same room doing completely different things, as long as you're there he's happy

𓆩♡𓆪 ft ; crypto, seer, mirage, octane, revenant

𓆩♡𓆪 a/n ; had to sneak in my little princess meow meow revenant !! i'll write a female legend centered part 2 soon if i feel like it <3

crypto

the dropship screen interrupted the program it was televising to show everyone the lineups

his eyes widen a bit since you both rarely get paired in a squad together

his heart rate picked up a bit and seer could only giggle from the other side of the room

tried playing it off like he's unbothered

but please help the poor guy he's kinda dying inside

especially if it was duos, ya might need d.o.c on this one

isn't that different than he normally would be

but becomes really protective