Terror in the Night
Prompts: Hello question/prompt for your among us imposter syndrome story: (if they sleep) black having a nightmare about something bad happening to purple and going to check on them in the middle of sleep cycle. Hurt/comfort cuddles follow. Can be applied to either the imposter syndrome story or the younger!purple ones. Either way. I love it. (Hope you are having a good time zone!) - anon
I have a request for your among us stories— we’ve seen Black comfort Purple, but does Purple ever comfort Black? Maybe Black has a bad dream, or another imposter wants to see what’s so special about this little human, or something else happens to one of them and Purple plays the role of comforter? Idk it popped in my head and I figured I ask, haha. - anon
moar somft coming up
Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2
Warnings: nightmares, implied/referenced child abuse, death but it’s in the nightmare and isn’t permanent
Pairings: y'all know the drill for these babes, it is platonic all the way down
Word Count: 2408
Fear has such a distinctive smell.
When the crew of the Skeld was still here, the walls of the ship used to reek of fear, embedded into the rivets, wafting down the corridors. A more sadistic Impostor would call it intoxicating, or even an aphrodisiac. It tapered off, naturally, now that it’s just Black and little Purple.
At least until Black is sitting in the captain’s chair one night cycle and their maw suddenly begins to water.
They’re out of the chair before they know it, hustling down the corridors, legs pumping, maw on the verge of a snarl. Images flash through their mind, the crew somehow found a way to survive, Purple is hurt, Purple is dying—
They burst around the corner and the door to Purple’s quarters opens automatically. They dash inside, maw agape, a roar at the back of their throat only to see a tiny huddle under a mass of blankets, trembling and shivering and reeking of fear.
Oh, no…
Black takes a few deep breaths. No use terrifying the poor little thing any more than they already are, no use acting like anything could hurt them right now. Not with Black here. They let the helmet go, and after a moment, let the suit go too.
Be soft. Be gentle. Be kind. Don’t hurt them.
“Purple,” they call quietly, slowly making their way across the room, “Purple, baby, can you hear me?”
The mound is silent, still trembling.
“Purple,” they try again, now at their bedside, “baby, are you in there? It’s just me, it’s just Black, baby, I won’t hurt you.”
Slowly, so slowly, Black begins to lift the blankets off the bed. Layer by layer, peeling them back, never far, never all the way off. Just enough to peer inside and see a shaking little Purple with their eyes squeezed shut.
“Baby,” they murmur, “baby, it’s okay, open your eyes for me.”
Purple twitches. Their hands ball up and open again in the fabric surrounding them. They twitch again and another wave of fear rolls off them.
“Oh, Purple,” Black whispers, “are you still asleep, baby?”
The twitch that follows is enough of an answer. Black bites back a curse and rests their weight on the edge of the bed, carefully widening the hole in the blankets they’ve made. They take a deep breath and reach in, gently shaking Purple’s shoulder.
“Baby,” they whisper, “Purple, baby, wake up. Wake up, baby, come on…”
Purple doesn’t move. Black tries again.
“Purple? Purple, wake up, wake up!”
Nothing.
They start to shake harder, shoving blankets out of the way.
“Purple? Purple!”
Nothing.
Purple’s head begins to rock back and forth as Black shakes them harder.
“Purple!”
Snap!
Black’s eyes widen in horror as Purple’s neck snaps in two. They drop the corpse from their hands and stagger back, unable to breathe.
Purple’s head lies there, twisted at the most unnatural angle. Their mouth is open in a soundless cry. And their eyes…
Their eyes stare directly at Black.
Because what else could an Impostor do but kill?
Black bolts upright, chest heaving, maw flopped open and whining. They place a hand against the steel wall, the cold shocking their nerves as they cup their helmet in their arm. Nausea threatens the back of their throat and they dry heave, thankfully not actually bringing anything up as they swing their legs out. They sit there, on the edge of the bed, trying frantically to calm down.
Purple is safe. Purple is safe. Purple is safe.
They groan, scrubbing their hands over the helmet. Their maw finally starts to calm down, tongue losing the barbed point as they take deep breaths.
“Fuck.”
Their hands shake as they begin to stagger to the bathroom for a glass of water. The sudden change in position has them disoriented, sending them crashing into one wall after the other. They’re dizzy. Why are they so dizzy? Why don’t they remember how to do this?
The glass shakes in their hands, almost sloshing the water over the edge as they bring it to their lips, only remembering just in time to get the helmet out of the way. Their maw growls in protest as the cold burns down their throat but it soothes some of the churning.
The glass thuds back down onto the counter as they bend over the sink, still breathing heavily. They look up to the mirror and see bruised-bitten lips, sallow cheeks, and red-rimmed eyes.
Purple’s dead eyes stare at them—
Black flinches away from the mirror, fist tightening in their hair and pulling. No. No. It’s not real. Purple is fine.
They breathe in and the scent of fear hits their nose.
They freeze.
Slowly breathe in again.
It’s unmistakable now.
Black’s throat tightens as they slowly, slowly back away from the mirror and sit on the bed. They school their face into an inscrutable expression and place their hands on their knees. They breathe in and out.
The fear only grows.
Their hands twitch toward the door and they clench them into fists.
It’s getting stronger.
The memory of the snap keeps them rooted to the bed.
It’s still getting stronger.
Dead eyes. Because what else could an Impostor do but kill?
“B-Black?”
Black is moving. Black is up and out the door and standing in front of Purple’s quarters. The door slides open slowly and they brace themselves, preparing for the worst—
“Black,” Purple mumbles, blanket clutched over their face, “Black, I—I want Black—“
Black swallows. “Baby?”
Purple slowly lowers the blanket, peering out at Black. Their eyes…
“Black,” they manage around the fabric, reaching out one little hand, “Black, I—I’m sorry, I got scared—“
“It’s okay.” Black swallows. Get it together. “It’s okay, baby, I’m here now.”
“Can—can I have a hug?”
“Yeah, sure, baby, can I—let me come over?”
Purple puts the blanket down and opens their arms, reaching out for Black as they stumble across the room. They pause just out of Purple’s reach, shaking their arms to get into the rest of their human form. Purple lets out a quiet noise as their wrap their arms around Black’s chest, burying their face in the soft shirt.
“Hey, hey, baby,” Black murmurs, clumsily patting their head, “it’s okay, we’re okay, you—you’re safe.”
Purple’s little hands ball up in Black’s shirt, tugging as they try and lie back down. Black just manages to catch themselves on the wall behind them.
“Hold on, baby, you’re gonna pull me over.”
Purple pouts, tugging insistently at their shirt.
“Do you want me to lie down with you?” Another tug. “Words if you can, baby, I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”
“Will you come lie down, please?”
“Sure, baby, shift over.”
Purple scoots, barely giving Black enough time to calm down before they’re clinging to their arm and trying to scoot into their chest.
“Hey, hey,” they chuckle, turning to lie on their side and open their arms, “there. Come on, warmth.”
Soon, they have a little Purple buried in their chest and stomach, a cold little nose pressed into the crook of their neck, soft warm breaths puffing over their shoulder. Black hums, their maw opening just enough to nibble gently at Purple’s shirt. Purple sighs happily, burying a little closer.
“You’re really warm.”
“Are you cold? Do you need more blankets?”
Purple shakes their head, pushing closer. “Have you.”
Because what else can an Impostor do—
“Black? Black?”
Black blinks and immediately bites back a curse. Their grip must’ve tightened on Purple. They loosen it as quickly as they can and let Purple pull away from them.
“Did…did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, baby,” Black promises, fighting the urge to reach out and cup their little face, “no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Purple rubs their shoulder absentmindedly. “You didn’t.”
Doubt. Black sighs, rubbing their eyes. When they lower their hand again, Purple stares at them with a furrow in their brows.
“You don’t look good.”
Black huffs a laugh. “I don’t feel that good either.”
“What’s wrong?”
Oh, is that all? “I, uh, had a nightmare.”
Purple’s little eyes widen so large Black can see the whites. “You have nightmares too?”
Black’s breath catches for an entirely different reason. “Yeah, baby, everybody has nightmares, it’s okay.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.” Unable to resist the urge any longer, Black reaches out and gently strokes a thumb over Purple’s cheek, drawing forth a soft noise when the poor thing starts to sniffle. “Oh, hey, hey, c’mere, it’s okay, shh, shh…”
Purple crawls back into their arms, wrapping them tightly around Black’s neck as Black turns them over, laying Purple out across their front and tangling one hand in their hair, rubbing their back with the other.
“It’s okay, baby, we’re both okay now,” they coo, wrapping themselves around Purple, “you’re okay, baby, I’ve got you, we’re just gonna lie right here.”
“You—you were scared too?”
“Yeah, baby, I was scared, but that’s okay, everybody gets scared.”
Purple just sobs and clings to them tighter.
“Oh, shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, I’m not scared anymore, I’ve got you here with me, yeah? You keep me safe, I keep you safe, right? It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Black keeps crooning to the little thing, using a few tendrils to carefully coax the blankets back up over their shoulders, tucking them snugly under the covers. “There, here we go, see? Nice and safe.”
Purple sniffles before reaching out and tugging one of the blankets a little closer around their heads. Black chuckles at the determined little face before Purple cautiously reaches toward their face. They take Purple’s hand in theirs and carefully place it on their cheek.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
“I’m sorry you were scared.”
“Oh, it’s okay, baby, it isn’t your fault.” Black smiles and strokes Purple’s hand with their thumb. “You’re safe, baby, that’s what matters.”
Purple sniffles again.
“Hold on a second.” Black coaxes them back down to their side and shuffles back a few of the covers. “Watch this.”
They hear and feel Purple’s delighted gasp as they flick out a tendril to snag the tissue box from inside the bathroom. They reel it back in and take one tissue out, holding it gently to Purple’s nose.
“Blow, baby.”
Purple listens, their eyes squeeze shut as an adorable little honk rings in the room. They dispose of the tissues and wipe the last of the tears from Purple’s cheeks.
“There,” Black murmurs, “all better now.”
“That was so cool! How did you do that?”
“Remember my arms, baby?”
“Your tentacles!”
Black chuckles. “I can control them, make them stretch if I want to.”
“Wait,” Purple says, their eyes going wide again, “does that mean you can be as big as you want to be?”
“Well—“
“Could you eat the whole ship?”
Black’s heart stutters, reassurances springing to the tip of their tongue that no, they would never, Purple doesn’t need to worry, until they spot the slight pout to Purple’s lower lip and the expression of their face.
“…Purple?”
“Could you?” And yes, that is the voice of an eager child as Purple scoots a little closer to their face. “Could you eat the whole ship?”
“Well,” Black chuckles, wrapping their arms around the little one again, “I don’t think I can get that big.”
At Purple’s disappointed pout, they chuckle again.
“And even if I could, I don’t think I’d want to. Have you seen what this ship is made out of?” They make a disgusted expression and stick their tongue out a little. “I don’t want to eat that! It would taste awful.”
Purple giggles. “You don’t want to eat metal and reactor parts?”
“No!”
Purple giggles again.
“And then where would you stay?” Black tucks a strand of hair behind their ear. “I don’t want to eat your home.”
Purple stills, looking down at Black with a strange expression. Shit, this—this is probably the last place Purple wants to call home. A lump forms in the back of their throat.
“This isn’t my home,” Purple mumbles.
“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”
“You’re my home.”
Black’s chest stutters to a glorious pause.
Oh.
Oh.
Purple’s hands land on their stunned face again, squishing their cheeks gently. Black closes their eyes, overwhelmed by the weight. They hear Purple let out a soft noise and oh, it’s their turn to cry.
“B-black? Black, I’m sorry, I—“
“No,” Black gasps out, tightening their grip on Purple as much as they dare, “no, you don’t—you don’t need to be sorry, Purple, they’re—I’m—I’m—“
Purple’s quiet for a moment, then…
“Happy tears?”
“Yes, baby—happy—happy tears.”
And they have an armful of Purple, cuddled right up to their chest where their arms can wrap as tightly around them as they want, their maw can nibble protectively at their shirt, and their tears can dry in their hair. Purple hums sleepily, letting out a squeaky little yawn. The covers tug up snugly around them as Black buries their face in Purple’s hair.
“Can we go back to sleep now?”
“Sure, baby,” Black whispers, “whatever you want.”
“Can we stay under the covers?”
“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t we?”
Purple shrugs. “Everybody knows monsters can’t get you when you’re under your covers.”
Black chuckles wetly, tucking Purple’s head under their chin and pulling the blankets into position. “Then here we stay.”
Yes, as they drift off to sleep, safe and warm, wrapped in each other’s arms, here they stay.