Prompt: aaaa, i love your story ‘imposter syndrome’!!!! I love the dynamic between black and purple, it’s so sweet!! but what would happen if purple was a little kid, and a stowaway on a ship, and black ended up finding them? how differently would black react to an even sweeter and tinier purple??? (if you could write a small one shot or somethin based off of this, please do!!! only if you wanna, though!!!!)
Ahhh yess! ahhhhh yesss more of protective black, this time with little baby purple!I didn’t wanna full on call this an au in the tags, but this is an alternate version of my longer fic ’impostor syndrome,’ except purple is a lil bb. you don’t have to read that first but you can if you want to–this one is more of an alternate timeline where there’s very little context in the first one important
Read on Ao3
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, but nothing explicit
Pairings: impostor!black adopts lil bb crewmate!purple, nothing romantic
Word Count: 3471
Black is a senior Impostor. Deadly. Dangerous. This is hardly the first mission they’ve been on and it is far from the hardest.
…it is the first one with a stowaway.
“You fucker!” Red claws at their suit with the fury of a frenzied animal. “You’ll fucking pay for this!”
Black muscles them into the airlock and slams the door shut. Red pounds their fists against the glass.
“I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me? I’ll—“
Black’s fist slams the button and the airlock opens. Red’s furious body vanishes in the sudden decompression.
At least the anger was a welcome alternative. For all the work that humans had done to build up their reputation as fearless, remorseless, and absolutely uncaring about anyone other than themselves, so few lived up to it. Especially in death.
Black rolls their shoulders back and strides off down the corridor. The ship is empty now, save for their own steps echoing off the metal walls. Good. They can barely breathe with the stench of human fear roiling off of every surface. And soon enough they’ll be off this damn ship, back to Polus.
They shake their head as they round the corner. They really are getting on, aren’t they? Mission after mission after mission. They all blur together after a while.
Black stops.
Tilts their head.
Takes one big breath in…and out.
What is that?
Another scent. Not fear, that won’t go away for a while, but something else, riding the undercurrent. Something…less acrid, less bitter.
They take another breath. Their maw begins to snarl.
Red was the last crewmate. There aren’t any more humans registered on this ship.
So why can Black smell another one?
They fall into stance quickly, one hand going to their knife, the other checking the rest of their weapons, before stalking along the corridor. Their footsteps are silent against the metal floor. Their suit melts effortlessly into the shadows.
Their maw rumbles in anticipation.
Electrical. Of course.
No one would bother to hide in a death trap unless they were certain they weren’t going to be looked for. Black feels their mouth turn up into a smile.
Blur together they may, but a mission does have its fun moments every once in a while.
Their footsteps barely give them away over the humming of the room, creeping inside under the flickering lights. They close their eyes for a moment to scent the air again.
The human is close.
Black turns, pivoting effortlessly on the balls of their feet. Their gaze lands on the space between the lights panel and the back of the computer terminals.
There you are.
They creep closer. Closer. A shadow falls over the machines. Inside, there is a human.
Black leans forward and—
—stops short.
There is a human here, but not—well, not what they expected.
They’re not wearing a suit, that’s the first thing. Instead, they’re wearing a shirt that dwarfs their frame and a pair of trousers covered in singes. Their hair is tied back messily, but not enough to keep it from getting caught on different parts of the machine.
For another, they’re fucking tiny.
Not just because they can fit into this small space—how did they even get themselves in there?—but because their head looks barely bigger than Black’s hand.
Also, why is there a human juvenile here?
Black shakes themselves. No. Now’s not the time to lose concentration. They refocus on the child.
The child looks back at them, blinking slowly, their hands cupped around something in their lap. They tilt their head as much as they can as they stare at Black.
Black tilts their head.
The child mirrors it.
They tilt their head the other way.
So does the child.
They lift their hand up to give a little wave.
The child’s arm looks hurt, they realize, as a little wave comes back.
“Hey, there,” Black says after another moment, “what’re you doing?”
The child scrunches themselves further into the gap. “Hiding.”
“I can see that.” Black runs a finger down the machines. “What’re you hiding from?”
“Everybody.”
That takes Black by surprise. If the child were just trained to hide from Impostors, sure, but…everybody?
“Did the—does the crew know you’re here?”
The child shakes their head. Black squints as they take their bottom lip between their teeth, chewing so hard it looks like it must hurt.
“Hey, hey,” they call, “don’t do that, you’ll make yourself bleed.”
“I’m supposed to.”
Fucking what?
“You’re what?”
“I’m supposed to be quiet,” the child says, and damn right they didn’t mean make themselves bleed, “this keeps me quiet.”
Black shifts, crouching down properly to stare at the child. They’re so…small.
“Why are you supposed to be quiet,” they ask, lowering their own voice, “what are you afraid of?”
There’s a pause. Then: “nobody wants to see me. They don’t like to know that I’m here. So I’m quiet and then I don’t get in trouble.”
They curl up a little tighter.
“…I don’t want to be in trouble.”
Unbidden, Black’s maw snarls. They dragged a child onto this ship and forced it to hide away? Under threat of…who the fuck knows what?
“I’m sorry.”
They snap out of it when they see the child flinch away.
“Hey, shh,” they caution, “you’re going to hurt yourself on the wires.”
The child doesn’t listen, still shying away. Only when Black realizes their maw is still rumbling and forces it to shut the fuck up do they relax a little. Black sighs, glancing over their shoulder.
“Come here.”
The child’s eyes widen.
“Come here,” Black repeats, holding out their hand, “or at the very least, come out of there, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
They shake their head furiously. “Can’t. Can’t come out. They’ll be mad. Can’t be found.”
“Whoa, hey, easy, it’s okay, no one’s mad.”
“You are. You will be. I’m not supposed to make noise. I’m not supposed to be found.”
“I’m not mad,” Black says patiently—since when have they ever been patient with something that wasn’t a mission?—still reaching out, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
They keep shaking their head. “Getting spotted means punishment. Punishment hurts. No. I’m safer back here.”
Another wave threatens to fully split Black’s maw. What the fuck happened to this child? Why the fuck are they here? Children are supposed to be safe, cared for by their people, not cowering in a dangerous place because being seared by wires is safer than being out in the open.
And why did the crew know nothing about it?
For now, though, the now-familiar scent of fear hits them and they bite back a curse.
A child is a child, human or not.
“Hey,” they call quietly, trying to soften the rasp of their voice, “hey, listen to me, just listen, okay?”
They shift, trying to make their posture as non-threatening as possible.
“I’m not mad at you,” they continue, watching the child’s eyes follow their every move, “I’m not going to punish you. I just need you to come out of there, okay?”
Those eyes narrow. “Why?”
“You’re hurt.” They indicate the child’s arm. “I want to have a look and make sure it doesn’t get worse.”
Unconsciously, they cradle it to their chest, even though the suspicious look doesn’t go away. “Grown-ups don’t care if I’m hurt. They just want me to be quiet.”
Black swallows their rage. “I care,” they say instead, “I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“No, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But I hurt myself and you don’t like that.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being in pain,” Black says through forced patience, “and I want to help.”
“Why?”
Why, indeed. Black ignores it and wiggles the fingers on their outstretched hand again.
“Because you’re still too close to the wires,” they say instead, “and if you stay back there much longer, they could hurt you very badly.”
The child’s gaze finally softens and oh, oh, they look so small.
“Come here,” Black calls again, gentleness seeping into their voice, “please?”
“…you promise you aren’t mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“Promise you won’t hurt me?”
“I won’t hurt you.”
The child shifts a little. They hug their injured arm to their chest and take their lip between their teeth again. Black lets out a soft noise, wiggling their fingers again.
“Come on, baby, you can do it.”
Finally, finally, they start to move. They shakily try to get on all fours, crawling out from the gap, only to let out a sharp cry when their shirt gets caught on the machines.
“Shh, shh, easy,” Black soothes, “it’s okay, you’re just a little stuck.”
“I can’t—I can’t move—I—“
“Easy, just look at me, okay?” Their frightened gaze snaps to Black. “That’s it, baby, just look at me, I’m right here.”
“I’m stuck!”
“I know, baby, I know, shh—“ Making sure their gaze is still on Black’s helmet, they reach a little further into the gap— “try and take my hand, baby.”
They reach, crying out when they try and rest their weight on their injured arm.
“Shh, shh, other one, baby, you can do it.”
Their hand is so small and soft and fragile. Black fights down another wave of anger and holds tight.
“I’ve got you now, baby, now try and come to me.”
“I can’t, I’m stuck, I’m—I—“
“I know, baby, just try for me.”
Out of their line of sight, Black grits their teeth and lets a single tendril flick out, disguised by the shadows, and yanks their shirt away from the blockage. They barely have enough time to reel it back in before they suddenly have a lapful of human child.
“Hey, hey, easy, baby,” they murmur, “you’re alright now, see?”
The poor thing is still trembling in their lap, their face all but buried in Black’s chest. Black coos, wrapping their arms tightly around the shaking bundle and softening the suit into something a little less abrasive.
“Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, you’re out of there now, you did great.” Their maw rumbles softly. “I’m right here, I’ve got you, you’re okay now.”
It takes far too long for scared little fingers to reach out and clutch at Black’s suit.
“There you go, baby, just hang onto me,” Black rumbles, rocking them a little back and forth, “you’re okay, everything’s gonna be okay now.”
“They’re—they’re gonna be mad at me—“
“Who’s gonna be mad at you, baby?” Whose ass do I need to kick?
“The—the crew, I’m—I’m not supposed to be here—“
Stowaway, Black’s brain realizes finally, they’re a fucking stowaway.
“The crew is gone,” they say instead, gently pulling the little thing closer, “it’s just you and me now, baby.”
The child stills. Then they look up and Black almost coos at the blatant hope on their face.
“…you mean it?”
“Yeah, baby,” Black murmurs, running their hand through the child’s hair, “just you and me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“So…” Those little fingers clutch a little tighter. “…I don’t have to be scared?”
Oh, baby…
“No,” Black says softly, “you don’t need to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You won’t be mad at me and punish me if I do something bad?”
“No, baby.”
“Oh.”
Black blinks as the smell of fear slowly begins to fade, replaced by the softer, sweeter scent from before. In their lap, the little one shifts closer, their arms going shyly around their torso.
“Can I—can I stay here for a little longer, then?”
“Of course you can baby, we can stay here as long as you like.”
The child immediately snuggles up to them with an eagerness that takes Black by surprise. Less than a moment ago, they were shying away from them, suspicious, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, and yet here they are. Curled up in Black’s lap.
Black’s grip on them tightens marginally.
Children are supposed to be kept safe. They are supposed to be raised to know what care looks like, to know what it is to be treated well so that when they do go off on their own, they can recognize what it looks like when someone mistreats them.
Hiding away, afraid to make a noise, stowing away on a spaceship is not what that means.
The child squirms in their lap and they look down.
“Am I holding you too tight?”
They shake their head, still squirming. “Tickles.”
“What does, baby?”
“Your tummy.” They shift again. “Tickles.”
Ah. Black’s maw is humming, contented with the knowledge that the child is safe now, here in their arms, in their lap. A smile tugs at the corners of Black’s mouth as they rumble a little louder, watching as the child squeaks.
“Alright, alright,” Black murmurs after a moment, stroking their back and making their maw be quiet, “that’s enough.”
The child goes to hug them again only to wince.
“Your arm.” Black touches it gently, noting the way they hold it awkwardly. “Can I have a look?”
The child nods, cradling the limb to their chest and placing it in Black’s hand. It’s fairly badly bruised, but other than that, intact.
“Can you bend it and unbend it for me?” They do. “Thank you. I don’t think it’s broken, I think it’s just bruised.”
“It hurts.”
“I can tell.” They give their waist a squeeze. “How about this, let’s go to the medbay and I can get you some bruise cream and an ice pack?”
“I’m not supposed to—“ they stop themselves, swallowing heavily— “you said…you said the crew was gone?”
Black nods. “Just you and me, baby.”
“So I can…I can have the ice pack? A-and the cream?”
Oh. “Yes, baby, of course. You’re allowed.”
They nod shyly. “Then I…I want to go.”
“Can you stand up for me?”
They try, only for their legs to give out almost immediately, tumbling back into Black’s arms.
“Hey, whoa, easy, baby,” they murmur, “it’s been a while since you stood up, hmm?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Shh, shh, none of that now, it’s not your fault.” Black gets them settled again. “May I carry you?”
The child’s eyes go wide. “You—you would?”
“How else would we get to the medbay?”
“O-okay.”
“Yeah?” The child nods. “Can you give me your hands, baby?”
Black takes the offered hands, guiding them around their neck and softly bidding them hold tight. In one smooth motion, they slide an arm under the child’s legs and stand, pulling them into their arms. They stand still a moment, letting them get used to it.
“Alright?”
The child nods, tucking their face over Black’s shoulder. “Why isn’t your tummy doing the thing anymore?”
“Do you…want it to do it again?”
Another nod. Well, that’s easy enough. Black smiles as the child sighs, relaxing into their maw as it rumbles softly again. They make their way to the medbay, setting the child carefully down on one of the beds and fetching what they need. As they turn around, they see the child staring at the floor with their eyes shut.
“Hey,” they murmur, hustling back over, “hey, what’s wrong, baby?”
“It’s really bright,” they mumble, “hurts.”
Right, they’ve been in the dim light of Electrical for…who knows how long. Black turns the lights down a little.
“Better?”
“Mhmm.” The child’s gaze lands on the scanner. “What is that?”
“That’s the scanner. It scans your body to see if you’re healthy.”
“Wow.”
“Mhmm.” Black holds up the tin of bruise cream. “Can I put this on for you?”
“Will it hurt?”
“No, I’ll be very careful.”
“Okay.”
As Black starts to spread a thin layer of the cream over the worst of the bruising, the child lapses into silence, occasionally swinging their legs back and forth.
“Are you an Impostor?”
Black’s hands falter for a moment.
“Yes.”
They’re going to be afraid again. They’re going to find out I killed the crew and they’ll—
“Does that mean you can shapeshift?”
Black’s head jerks up. “What?”
The child cocks their head. “I heard that Impostors can shapeshift, is that true?”
“Yes…yes, we can shapeshift.” Black gestures to themselves with their free hand. “Technically, I’m doing it now.”
“You don’t actually look like that?”
“No.”
“Oh.” The child swings their legs again. “Can I see you shapeshift?”
“…if you want,” they say after a moment, “but I’m going to need you to close your eyes for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I get embarrassed when people watch.”
“Oh. Okay.”
As the child closes their eyes, the rush of trust leaves Black more than a little heady. They close their own eyes, rolling their shoulders to let their human shape form, finding a smile still on their face as it settles into place.
“Okay, you can look now.”
The child cracks one eye open, only to gasp in delight and reach out for Black’s face.
“Easy,” Black chides lightly, “I still need to finish your arm.”
“But you’re really pretty!”
Unbidden, heat rises to Black’s cheeks as the child cups their face in their hands, staring at them with the wonder of someone seeing the stars for the first time.
You are the most adorable thing I have ever seen.
“I like this face,” the child declares, squishing it a little, “I like it a lot.”
“I’m glad,” Black chuckles, “and I’m happy for you to look at me while I finish tending to your arm.”
“Can I play with your hair?”
In response, Black takes their free hand and rests it gently on their head. “Try not to pull, okay?”
“I won’t.”
The child lapses back into silence as Black finishes fussing over their arm. Their fingers card shyly through Black’s hair, uncaring about the slight pressure the bandages put as Black finishes wrapping the bruises.
“There,” they murmur as they finish, “all done.”
“Oh.” The child looks down. “Thank you.”
“Of course, baby.” The hand doesn’t leave their hair. “Having fun?”
The child nods, their own flush blooming on their cheeks. Black chuckles, raising a hand to gently cup their face.
“What’s this for?”
“Can I stay with you?”
Black blinks, a little taken aback by the sudden question. The child’s hand trembles on their head and they reach up, holding it and giving it a soft squeeze.
“You’ve—“ they swallow— “you’ve been really nice to me and I—I like you, so I want to—can I stay with you?”
Oh.
Oh.
“Yeah, baby,” Black murmurs, smiling as the child’s face starts to split in a wide grin, “you can stay with me. I—oof.”
They barely have a moment to open their arms before the child all but throws themselves at them, hugging them tightly. Black chuckles, their maw purring, holding them tightly.
No one is going to hurt you ever again, baby, I’ll take care of you.
“Thank you,” comes the shy mumble.
“Of course, baby,” Black murmurs back, pulling them away enough to see their face. They frown, seeing something in their hands. “What’s that?”
“It’s a, um…” They hold it up, studiously not meeting Black’s gaze. “It’s my flower.”
Black’s eyes widen. “Indeed it is.”
A little purple flower with two green leaves.
“It’s pretty.”
“Mhm.” The child looks up at them and raises it to—
I am going to die. I am going to die, right here, because this is too cute.
The child tucks the flower shyly behind Black’s ear.
“Now you’re both pretty.”
“Oh, baby, thank you.”
The child nods, still looking away. Black can’t stop smiling.
“Hey,” they call softly, “what should I call you?”
“Um—“ the child twists their hands together— “I don’t, um…”
Something twists in Black’s gut as they realize that probably their name hasn’t been…fondly recalled.
“You can pick a nickname if you want,” they encourage, “I won’t mind.”
“I don’t have any nicknames.”
Black thinks for a moment.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What?”
“Your favorite color,” Black repeats, “do you remember how the crew used to call each other by their colors?”
The child nods. “Are you—are you going to call me by my color?”
“Is that okay?”
“Mhm, but then…do I call you Black?”
Black smiles. “If you like, yes, I’m Black.”
“Hi, Black,” the child says shyly, “I’m Purple.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Purple.”
“C-can I still stay?”
“Of course, baby,” Black murmurs, “you can stay.”