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silvfyre-writings · 5 months

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I'll keep you safe while you sleep (BSD Fanfic)

I break out of my hibernation long enough to drop this fic. Enjoy~

It was dark.

So very dark.

For as long as he could remember, Ranpo didn’t like the dark. The dark was like ice; cold and slippery against his bare skin as he walked through it, leaving him shivering and feeling damp even though there wasn’t actually any ice there to be felt in the first place. It was also incredibly lonely, the pitch black surrounding him, giving him the illusion that there were people there, compressing him, preventing him from breathing properly when in fact it was the opposite and that no one was actually there. It was suffocating in the sense that while he could breathe, it felt forced, like it was a conscious effort instead of unconscious, almost as if the air was heavy with something unbreathable.

So yes, Ranpo hated the dark.

And yet it had been his closest companion for so long.

It was there in the early years of his life when his parents would turn out the lights and leave him in a pitch black room—because they’d lived in such a small village that the only light was that of the moon and when the moon was gone, it was dark—at least until they’d figured out he wasn’t sleeping, and bought little light that kept the room light enough. It was there when his parents had died and he’d left everything he’d ever known behind to seek the help of someone his father had trusted, only to have that trust thrown into his face, and be tossed onto the streets where the darkness there held all sorts of people. It was there when the assassin he’d run into by chance, had seen something in him that none of the other adults had, and although that encounter shed a little bit of light on his life, the darkness still hung around because that assassin wasn’t his parents, and never would be.

And that was okay, because Fukuzawa understood that he wasn’t a replacement, and never tried to be, only stepping into Ranpo’s life to lend him a guiding hand.

But this darkness that he was currently trapped within was nothing like the darkness he knew; it was foreign and wrong, and he just—

—he didn’t know.

Ranpo froze, eyes wide and staring into nothing at the realisation that he didn’t know what this darkness was, or what was causing it, because that wasn’t right. Something was wrong. He was supposed to know everything, that was who he was, what he was good at, his sole reason for existing in this world. Not knowing just wasn’t in his vocabulary. Not knowing made him useless to those associated with him, to those that required his skills. Not knowing made him feel cold and—and alone… and he couldn’t be alone.

Without a second thought, Ranpo took off, his bare feet slapping against the ground as he ran, a wind streaming past him, which was strange because the air was still and thick. His chest heaved, although he did not breathe, and he was still cold, even though running should’ve warmed him. Something was wrong, and he was aware of that, but there was nothing that he could do. It was like the darkness had taken him over, herding him deeper into its clutches; an impossible feat really, because the darkness wasn’t alive, it wasn’t living, it was simply a thing, an absence of light that both scared people and brought them comfort.

And right now, it was terrifying.

He continued to run and run, never veering from his path, never looking behind him, yet still, the darkness did not end. And he feared it never would. His heart began to pound so loud that he could hear it in his ears; it was the only noise in this dark and hellish place. It was then that he saw it, a light, in the distance, and as cliché as it was, he went towards it, desperate to escape the dark. It didn’t matter if what awaited him on the other side was worse, if it wasn’t dark, he could handle it. The light drew closer, and Ranpo reached towards it. He could feel it—the warmth that the light would bring, dancing at his fingertips as he wished for it to envelop him and chase away the darkness.

But then the light disappeared, plunging him back into darkness.

No, no, no, no, come back, ple—

With a jerk, Ranpo’s eyes flew open, and he found himself blinded by the sun coming in through the windows of the Agency’s building. For just a moment, he continued to lay there with his face pressed against his desk as he sorted through his muddled thoughts. A dream, that was all that crushing darkness had been, and whilst dreams had never affected Ranpo before, this one left him with a racing heart and trembling hands, and he wasn’t a fan.

When Ranpo finally did lift his head, he took note of everyone in the office, or well, distinct lack of people in the office. The only other people here beside him were Tanizaki and Kunikida, neither of which gave Ranpo a passing glance and continued to quietly work away at their desks, focused. Good, that’s good. It meant that he hadn’t made enough of a disturbance to gain the attention he very much did not want, if only because they would show their concern and Ranpo had had enough of that to last a lifetime.

He pushed away from his desk and stood, intending to go down to the café on the first floor and get himself something warm to drink to chase off the fear that still lingered. A hot chocolate would do, or even a mocha, so that he wouldn’t fall asleep at his desk again. He couldn’t even remember when he’d fallen asleep; one minute he’d been playing on his handheld, and the next, he was dreaming, something that had been happening a lot lately now that he thought about it, but regardless, it couldn’t have been too long, since the sun was still high in the sky, and still rising.

Well, if the drink didn’t help him, then he’d nag Kunikida for a case that would distract him further.

His plans for foiled when he walked past the couches and caught a glimpse of a familiar set of boots, and he paused, following the boots up the lanky form that was attached to them until his eyes met the sleeping face of a certain vampiric gift user. Ever since he’d regained his body after the whole, vampire outbreak situation, Bram had taken to hanging around the Agency, often utilising the couches for a midday nap like he currently was. No one seemed to know why he hung around, yet no one was complaining about it either. And right now, Bram’s face was peaceful, relaxed in the sleep he was caught in, with no sign of a bad dream plaguing him, and that was all it took for Ranpo to change course.

He'd always slept better with someone else after all, and he and Bram were… something at this point, so who would begrudge him for seeking the company of someone important? His co-workers had so far ignored the way he and Bram had gotten close so fast, powering right through friendship into whatever they were—only Kunikida had expressed his concern, because that was just what he did, but otherwise leaving Ranpo be, and telling him he was happy for as long as Ranpo continued to be.

Dazai, of course, couldn’t resist making the joke that Ranpo was building his own army of goths, which Ranpo had gone to dispute, only to realize that the only other person he trusted the same way he now trusted Bram, was in fact, a goth. Although, since Bram had chosen to wear a yellow hoodie that day—never mind his jacket that had caused him to be called a goth in the first place was draped over the back of the couch—one could argue that he wasn’t so much a goth as he was… edgy.

Bram’s eyes flew open the moment that Ranpo threw himself on top of the other man, and his mouth opened to say something before it slammed shut; Bram simply stared at him for a moment, studying Ranpo carefully and observing the tension in his body, before he dragged himself to sit up a bit, shifting the pillow behind him so that he could remain comfortable whilst Ranpo got situated. Only once Ranpo stopped moving, now half-laying on him, and half-fallen in the gap between him and the back of the couch, did he move, winding his arms around the detective’s waist, and pulling his coat from the back of the couch to let Ranpo use as a blanket. Bram’s eyes slipped closed again. “Your friends will not get mad that you are shirking work to slumber with me?”

“I’ll just get you to bite them if they do.” Ranpo mumbled into Bram’s shirt, already tired and drifting towards sleep again.

“No thank you, bite them yourself if you must.” One of Bram’s hands found its way into Ranpo’s hair, long fingers dragging through the black tresses in a way that had Ranpo sighing contentedly as he snuggled closer. “You are bothered by something.”

“Unwanted dreams.”

“What kind?”

Ranpo shivered at the question, and if it had been anyone else asking, they wouldn’t have received an answer. But ever since he had met Bram, the other always seemed to know how to get Ranpo to answer him honestly, whether Ranpo wanted to or not. It was a little annoying at times, but just this once, it was okay. “Darkness. I don’t like the dark.”

“You have come to the right person then.” Bram murmured, holding Ranpo just that little bit closer to him to help soothe him. “As the Lord of Darkness, the dark listens, and bends to my will, therefore, it will leave you alone should you wish to slumber some more.”

In lieu of saying anything, Ranpo wound his arms around Bram, and held him tight, letting his head come to rest against the other’s chest, his heart beating steadily beneath his ear. He allowed that heartbeat to soothe him, the hand that was still in his hair to relax him until eventually, his eyes closed and his grip loosened. It was as he was drifting off again, that Bram shifted underneath him, and he felt what could only be lips, brushing against his forehead before quiet words were whispered for his ears and his alone. “Sleep well, little detective. Allow me to protect you when you are at your most vulnerable.”

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bramran #bram stoker #edogawa ranpo #nightmares #fluff #comfort #writing #fanfic

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erosauriarts · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Edogawa Ranpo/Bram Stoker (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Bram Stoker (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Koda Aya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Cute, Fluffy, Bram is unironically really cute; this was not my intentions., Bram talks about his past a bit, No beta we die like bram's daughter., Smart people talk, but im kinda dumb, Poor bram bram is kinda ignorant, Mentions Kunikida, First Dates, They don't know it's a date at first., One Shot, Rare Pairings Summary:

Bram needs guidance to help him adjust to the world. Ranpo had offer to step in and show him a few things. After some conversation; it seems they find each other interesting.

#bram stoker #ranpo edogawa #rarepair #ranpo x bram #bramran #bsd rarepair

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zukkaoru · 2 months

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HELLO

- nikonathan

- fyozai

- fyonikonathan

- fukurotsu

- fyolai

- fyoran

- brampo

i hope that's not too many lmfao

okay for fyozai i couldn't pick where to put it. because on one hand, i get it. they're two sides of the same coin, they understand each other, they complement each other terribly, etc, etc i get it. i do. but on the other hand. it just doesn't fit with dazai's character development in my mind.

anyway fyoran compels me mostly bc i just want to see them tear each other apart. bramran compels me slightly bc i think ranpo would be into the vampire thing but i also do like aro bram so. i'm not sure bram would be interested back. rip

#ty for the ask <333 #louie tag #ask game

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silvfyre-writings · 3 months

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Rest well, my love (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, I bring more bramran because you will have to pry this ship from my cold dead hands. This time, a sickfic, because what pairing doesn't have at least one sickfic?

This time, we have something that's short and sweet, so I hope you all enjoy!!!

It isn’t the sun that wakes Bram, nor is it an alarm clock, but instead it is a series of sneezes that come from right beside him that drag him out of slumber and into the world of the living. He keeps his eyes closed, in hope of being able to go back to sleep, but it proves hopeless when a groan sounds, followed by a ragged cough that truly sounds retched, and that’s when Bram opens his eyes, blinking slowly. Another cough echoes throughout the room.

As his eyes adjust to the morning light, Bram shifts to look at the one making these noises, the much smaller form of Edogawa Ranpo tucked against his chest, sniffling miserably. His love’s eyes are crusted with sleep and dried tears, and Bram raises a hand to gently brush his thumb over them, wiping away the gunk without another thought. Ranpo’s nose is also bright red and runny, which explains the near constant sniffling he’s been hearing since he woke up. And accompanied by the occasional cough, it’s clear that Ranpo is very much sick.

How unfortunate.

Bram frowns. It’s not often that Ranpo falls ill—when he does, it’s usually because he was neglecting to take care of himself, or, he was caught in a storm—but whenever he does, it’s never a fun time. Whatever illness that his love contracts always seems to go out of its way to make his life a living hell, and it usually falls to Bram to take care and make sure that he doesn’t get any worse. Not that Bram minds, because when he’s ill, Ranpo becomes extremely affectionate, wanting to cling and cuddle far more than he normally does, and honestly, Bram loves it.

He loves to be relied on, to be appreciated and praised for his efforts when he spent so many years prior being used by those around him.

“Ranpo.” Bram smooths his hand down Ranpo’s cheek, watching as the other mans eyes scrunch before flicking open. It doesn’t take long for Ranpo to squeeze them shut again.

“Nngh.”

Bram continues his gentle touches. “My love, you need to let go of me.”

The response comes quick, Ranpo tightening his grip and muttering a quiet no.

“I promise to return.” Bram says, shifting his focus to Ranpo’s hair, running his fingers through, over and over, until finally, Ranpo loosens his grip and he’s able to pull away. “Thank you.”

“Come back quick, I’m cold.” Ranpo whines, sniffling pitifully as he buries himself under the blankets, disappearing from view.

Bram watches fondly for a moment before he sets off to complete his self-given task. Because of Ranpo’s frequent run-ins with sickness, Bram had to learn very quick how to handle each illness as it came—even though he rarely dealt with more than a summer cold—and now, he considers himself quite adept at it. Seldom does Ranpo complain about the way he’s tended to, and even Ranpo’s colleagues resort to calling him whenever the younger tries to power his way through the workday, and subsequently fails.

First comes the basics; a glass of water, some medicine that will take every bone in his body to convince Ranpo to take the innocent pills, and a washcloth. As he walks around the kitchen, gathering what he needs, he thinks. He’s pretty sure that whatever illness Ranpo has contracted is still in the early stages, which means that with plenty of rest and a little bit of doting, it’ll pass by in the blink of an eye. At least, that’s what Bram hopes, because seldom do these bouts go the way he hopes.

But he pushes that worry away, knowing that if he lingers on it, it’s more likely to happen.

Once he has everything he needs, Bram heads back to the bedroom, stopping by the bathroom quick to wet the cloth. He crawls back into bed, juggling everything in his hands so that he can try and coax Ranpo into revealing his face. “I have some medicine for you. And water.”

The whine is followed by a harsh cough. “’m fine.”

Bram raises an eyebrow, and tugs at the covers again. “You absolutely are not fine.”

“Am to.” Ranpo pokes his head free, looking just a little worse than when Bram had left him earlier. He doesn’t say anything though, as he coaxes Ranpo into sitting up to lean against him. Ranpo complains, as he does, and Bram shushes him quietly, wiping the sweat from his face with the damp cloth.

Ranpo leans into his touch, a content hum escapes him, and his eyes slip shut. “Feels nice…”

“That’s because you have a fever.” Bram says, give Ranpo’s face another clean before he discards the cloth. He offers up the water and the medicine. “Take these.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Ranpo.”

For a moment they stare each other down, but if there’s one thing that Bram has perfected over the time that he and Ranpo have been dating, it’s how to out-stubborn the younger, and sure enough, Ranpo looks away with a sigh, a hand rising up to take the medicine and water. It only takes him a second to down the medicine, and a few more to finish the water, and once that’s done, Bram finds himself being dragged back down.

He allows it, shifting onto his side so that he can draw Ranpo into his arms, smiling to himself when his love snuggles closer to him, tucking his head underneath his chin. Bram can feel Ranpo’s feverish forehead against his skin, an uncomfortable warmth that promises to cause problems lest he get it under control early, and soft puffs of air against his neck as Ranpo breathes softly, careening back into the sleep he was awoken from.

Which is good, because rest will help Ranpo to heal faster.

Bram helps the process along by tightening his grip, entangling one hand into Ranpo’s hair, and smoothing the other along Ranpo’s spine. Not only is it soothing to Ranpo and will help him sleep better, it’s calming to Bram as well, and already he feels ready to sleep again.

Before he does though, he makes a mental note to wake in a couple of hours and check on Ranpo’s condition.

Rest well, my love, I will take care of you.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bramran #bram stoker #edogawa ranpo #comfort #fluff #sickfic #writing #fanfic

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silvfyre-writings · 27 days

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Jacket Blankets (BSD Fanfic)

I wrote this a few weeks ago, and felt like posting it finally. Just a cute little drabble of the my favourite boys <3

ENJOY!

Ever since he’s started dating Ranpo, Bram has found his more comfortable clothes being stolen by the younger, and it’s gotten to the point that instead of checking his own closet for his jackets, he has to go to Ranpo’s closet to take them back. But if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoys coming home to see Ranpo bundled up in whatever sweater or hoodie he’s decided is his for the time being—he always gives them back when they start to smell like him instead of Bram. Bram finds that a little odd, but he’s not one to judge, so he just washes whatever clothing item Ranpo gives back to him and wears it for a couple of days before it gets stolen again.

However there is one jacket that Ranpo steals for comfort purposes only, and that’s his black coat that covers Bram’s entire body, so one can imagine how it completely hides Ranpo from the world when he wears it. Which is the purpose of him stealing it in the first place. Sometimes the world is just a little too much, or the day is just a little bit more awful than usual, and the only way to counteract the terrible feelings that follow is to curl up underneath what gives the greatest comfort. And considering that Bram’s workday lasts a few hours longer than Ranpo’s, he’s often not home when the bad feelings come around.

Bram has always told Ranpo to call him and that he’ll come home early, but so far Ranpo hasn’t taken him up on it.

But he’s learnt the signs, and recognises them immediately upon stepping into their shared apartment after work that day.

There’s Ranpo’s own coat thrown on the floor, along with the tie that he fails to ever wear correctly, along with the newsboy hat that he loves to wear, and his shoes aren’t set neat like they always are. The next is that the apartment is dark, all the curtains drawn shut, and none of the lights—except for a singular lamp on the coffee table in front of the television that’s giving off a dull glow—turned on. Bram elects to keep the darkness as is while he removes his shoes, stepping into the apartment to see the next sign.

The television that’s on, but muted, playing some kids show that’s easy to follow along with without sound. That is something that’d initially confused Bram when he first started dating Ranpo, but he’d asked and apparently it was just soothing to watch these kinds of shows when you needed a bit of extra help in relaxing. Children’s shows always had good endings after all, so it was peaceful to see the characters be happy—at least, that was how Bram understood it.

So with all of those signs there, he understood that Ranpo’s day hadn’t been good, and sure enough, as he approached the couch, the final sign revealed itself to him; Ranpo curled up underneath his black coat, using it like a blanket, his body shifting with each breath as he dozed. Aside from the tension in his brow, Ranpo looks peaceful, but Bram would be a fool to just believe that. Even stressed, the human body did its best to relax when it was asleep, and now was no different. But still, he didn’t want to disturb Ranpo, so he quietly makes his way over to the couch, and with practiced ease, slides onto it, manoeuvring Ranpo’s head until it is resting on his lap.

Ranpo tenses as he’s moved, but lets out a quiet sigh before he continues to sleep. Bram shifts a little until his back is against the arm of the couch, but after that, he doesn’t move. He uses one hand to rest his own head on, and places the other on Ranpo’s shoulder; a comfortable weight that he hopes soothes rather than disturbs. And then he turns his attention towards the television, letting himself get caught up in whatever show Ranpo was watching before he fell asleep.

It’s not surprising when he too, begins to drift off, eyes heavy, and his lover’s body a warm weight that is more than enough to drag him into slumber.

He allows it to happen, knowing that Ranpo will wake him when he wakes himself, and that they will talk then about the sight that Bram walked in on.

But for now, they will simply rest together, and take the comfort that comes from being in each other’s presence.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bramran #comfort #fluff #drabble #edogawa ranpo #bram stoker #writing #fanfic

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silvfyre-writings · 4 months

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I'm not crushing, yes you are (BSD Fanfic)

I bring, the final fic of my hoard because I can't resist myself so yeah, here you all go, some more Bramran!!!

Nothing but softness and cuteness here!

Enjoy!!!

Ranpo was crushing, and crushing hard.

The world had almost ended, and everyone at the Agency—including himself—had been injured in some way, shape, or form, and here he was, crushing on the enemy.

Well, former enemy, really, since in the end, Bram had helped them to win.

Not that that changed the way that the rest of Agency often stared at Bram like he was going to come for them in his sleep, a natural reaction considering everything that’d happened, but it was a stupid one all the same. As if Ranpo would just allow anyone to set foot into the Agency after everything—not that he’d really had a choice in the beginning, what with him taking an unexpected nap after the adrenaline had worn off, so he’d woken up to his newest ally sitting beside his bed with his head against his chest as he slept, and the friend that had allowed him to even have the time and space to plan to begin with, on the other.

That’d certainly been quite a sight to wake up to, but the moment that Poe had realised he was awake, he’d pulled Ranpo into his arms, muttering something about being glad that he’d survived and that his plan had worked, whilst also muttering apologies about needing to leave him to go and see how Fitzgerald was doing. Ranpo had been far too stunned at the display of affection to do anything other than nod—although he did recall that Fitzgerald had almost been killed in the chaos, so he couldn’t fault Poe for wanting to leave—since his mind still slow from waking up after sleeping for four days straight, and soon enough, it was just him and Bram left in the room.

Well, them and the several other occupants of Yosano’s infirmary, but Ranpo wasn’t focused on them in the slightest.

No, he was far too focused on the very attractive ability user—was it wrong to call Bram a vampire, if his ability turned people into vampires?—sitting by his bedside like he was a dying lover, which was a bit dramatic to say, and Ranpo wholeheartedly blamed the concussion for those thoughts to even be considered. Especially the part where he apparently thought Bram attractive.

It wasn’t like Ranpo had never experienced a crush before in his life, because he had, for a variety of reasons, whether it be attraction or appreciation, or some other reason. Emotions were complicated after all, and Ranpo often didn’t bother with trying to decipher them. Sometimes he looked at a person and thought them good looking—the guy from a rainy day over four years ago—and others he liked because he could get reactions from them that pleased him greatly; said reactions often varied from him getting punched—Minoura—to becoming tangled in someone’s sheets—also Minoura.

And then there was that one crush of appreciation that’d been Poe, because as one of the only people to be able to keep up with him intellectually, how could he not appreciate the man? Not that he’d ever acted on that crush or made it known, because first of all, Poe was nothing more than a friend, and second of all, the writer was already in a committed relationship with his boss, it was as simple as that.

So, yes, Ranpo was familiar with the feelings that came with a crush, and the worst part of having a crush on Bram of all people, was that the man was about as forthcoming with his thoughts as a rock—Ranpo truly felt like he’d been shouting at a wall when he’d been passionately negotiating with Bram—and that he was also as single as they came.

A terrible combination when combined with being attractive, really.

Ranpo had continued to watch Bram for a while, just studying the other now that he had the time to actually do so. Bram was slouching in the chair, his position causing his coat to ride up and hide the lower part of his face from view—not that Ranpo could see considering Bram’s head was currently pointed towards the ground in the first place. He was pale, and the scars on his cheeks stood out against the skin; Ranpo was sure that there was some kind of story, perhaps even a mystery, to those scars, and he wanted to unravel it. There were also the marks underneath Bram’s eyes that did nothing but make Bram even more attractive, and that was when Ranpo had to turn away, lest his feelings and thoughts became obvious to whoever it was that was about to walk into the room. And since Bram was sleeping, and still would be for some time, Ranpo thought it best that he do the same.

Maybe he was still tired, and that was why his thoughts had strayed down this path. Maybe they would go away if he just slept and ignored them.

Just maybe.

Unfortunately for Ranpo, after being cleared by Yosano to return to work, and finally leaving the infirmary behind after a week of bedrest, the feelings were there; in fact, they were almost stronger than before, and it absolutely did not help that Bram took to hanging around the office, not really doing anything other than entertain Aya, who had also turned to hanging around the office—more specifically, Kunikida—and to also sleep on one of the Agency couches.

Honestly, Ranpo was just a little impressed by how much Bram seemed to sleep, it was almost as if he were a cat.

Because right now, it was the middle of the day, and from his desk, Ranpo could see Bram, curled up on the couch, and asleep. And all he could think about was joining him there. Which was annoying, because he was supposed to be working—not that he could work much right now anyway—paperwork was more Kunikida’s thing, not his.

“You’re thinking hard.” Yosano’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see her watching him with a faintly concerned look—she always wore such a look these days. “Hand. Is everything alright?”

Ranpo lifted his injured hand, and watched as Yosano began to unravel the bandages, waiting until they had dropped onto his desk to answer her question. “Everything’s fine. Just observing our newest decorative piece.”

Yosano’s eyes flitted over towards Bram, and he cursed her in that moment for understanding him so well, cursing her even more when her lips twitched into a knowing smile as she returned to checking his hand. “You certainly seem to have a type, that’s for sure.”

“I do not.”

“Tall? Dark? Mysterious? I can name so many people that have fallen under those categories, so don’t try and fool me into believing you don’t have a crush on someone that hits all three.”

There was nothing that he could say to that that wouldn’t just shove him straight into the hole that Yosano was digging underneath him, not that he needed to say anything because her laughter and his burning cheeks said more than words ever could. Really, he did hate how easily Yosano could read him; it made keeping his conflicted feelings from her all the more harder. Ranpo let out a huff. “I’m not crushing on him.”

“I’ll believe that when you stop staring at him like he’s going to disappear.” Yosano shrugged, returning her attention to his hand, prodding the slowly healing wound and watching Ranpo’s reaction to it, and after she’d satisfied herself, wrapped it in fresh bandages. “And before you even try to say you’re not, you are, it’s starting to become kind of obvious, so why don’t you just talk to him?”

Another huff. “I don’t know how to.”

“You’re telling me you can sweet talk people into your bed—”

“Please don’t word it like that.”

“—but you can’t go up to them and say hello?” Yosano continued, raising a brow in a very much unimpressed way that did nothing but make Ranpo turn away from his oldest friend, and mutter something under his breath. “What was that?”

Ranpo sighed and turned back to face her. “I said, that it’s a lot easier when your dick is involved.”

“You’re impossible sometimes. But I suppose we’d have you no other way.” Yosano reached out to ruffle his hair through his hat, ignoring his disgruntled groans of protest. Ranpo slapped her hands away, fixing up his hat where it had slipped down his face; Yosano just smiled. “Just take him with you next time you go and buy sweets or something. But I’d do something fast before Dazai notices and starts trying to play matchmaker again.”

Ranpo shuddered at the thought of Dazai trying to talk to Bram on his behalf, and was left with a terrible, coiling sensation in his gut. Jealousy, an ugly emotion that Ranpo wanted nothing to do with, yet couldn’t help but feel, because try as he might to deny it to his friends, he was crushing, and crushing bad. And since this feeling wasn’t going anywhere until he did something about it, he decided to take Yosano’s suggestion seriously; for once. “I’m going to get sweets.”

“Good luck.” Yosano waved as she disappeared back into the infirmary, and the few co-workers that had overheard her—not Dazai thankfully, because he and Kunikida were currently out on a case together with Atsushi—looked towards him quizzically. He narrowed his eyes at them, satisfied when they met his gaze, jumped, and jumped right back into their work.

Ranpo waited until they were completely focused before he stood and crept over towards the couches; he wasn’t sure if Bram was a light sleeper or not, and he was kind of holding out on him not being one, so he kept his steps light until he was standing over Bram’s head, staring down at the sleeping man’s face, studying how smooth it was, even in sleep. Not that Bram’s face was anything but, since he never seemed to wear kind of emotion other than a deadpan, making him very hard to read at times—and Ranpo prided himself on being able to read the people around him.

Of course, there were a persons eyes, but Brams eyes were as emotionless as his face and said eyes were currently staring right at him—wait a minute, staring? Ranpo blinked once, staring down at Bram in the same way that he was staring up. Neither of them said anything, not that Ranpo really knew what to say in the first place, not when his heart started to pound inside of his chest, threatening to escape. Was it too late for Ranpo to throw himself out the window and pretend he hadn’t just been watching someone sleep?

Apparently so, because Bram chose then to speak. “What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything?”

“Because I’m sure you don’t just stare at people while they sleep. Unless you do, then I might be inclined to call you a little strange.” Bram said before letting out a massive yawn—and boy, didn’t the sight of those fangs make Ranpo’s already pounding heart, pound even faster—before he sat up, and stretched.

Yeah, he had it bad this time.

Ranpo shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m out of snacks, and no one else can take me to get more. So that’s your job now.”

Bram’s eyes narrowed a little, and only just a little, in annoyance. “My job? I don’t think so.”

“Wow, aren’t you cruel, letting the one who lets you sleep and laze about here starve because he ran out of snacks.” Ranpo threw himself over the arm of the couch, landing where Bram’s head had been resting earlier, his hair brushing the others thigh. The close proximity did nothing for his heart either, yet getting up now just wasn’t something that he wanted to do. Which was fine, because sitting here, like this, was actually quite nice.

At least, it was until Bram decided to pat Ranpo’s hair.

“They told me you were bad with directions; I did not think it was true.” Bram’s gaze looked towards the main area before his eyes flitted back to focus on Ranpo. “If you really need snacks that bad, I can take you, but later. First, you must rest.”

Ranpo blinked, and then blinked again. Where did that come from? “And why must I rest?”

“That doctor of yours was talking to you before, and then you came over here to where I was resting, so I gathered that she had told you to take a break.”

“That’s not—” Ranpo started, with the intention of clearing up the obvious misunderstanding, because he most certainly didn’t need to rest—Bram had literally been there when he’d been given the all clear to go back to work—but then he looked into the other mans eyes; eyes that so openly believed that what he’d observed was the truth, that Ranpo just sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m taking a break. Is that so bad of me to do? It’s hard work being a genius detective after all!”

The hand in his hair moved from petting to stroking, and Ranpo was forced to bite back a noise at how good it felt. For as long as he’d been alive, he’d been a sucker for his hair being played with, and many times he’d been likened to a cat by those who were privileged enough to be allowed to even touch his hair. Which of course meant that Bram was one of those people, not that the man knew it… yet.

Maybe when he woke up, he’d mention it, or he’d conveniently forget about it and these feelings of his.

Maybe…

Ranpo became aware at some point, realizing in just a second that he was no longer on the couch, and that he was being carried on someone’s back. Not Fukuzawa’s, it was too narrow, although he could hear his former guardian speaking quietly close by. An occasional hum that Ranpo could feel right in his ear would sound after each of Fukuzawa’s sentences, and the sound was familiar, although his brain was still working far too slow for him to deduce who it was that was carrying him.

But whoever it was that was carrying him was warm and strong, and Ranpo felt comfortable being where he was, enough that he shifted closer and allowed himself to drift off a little; he didn’t fall asleep entirely, because his curiosity was piqued, and he could never sleep when his mind started thinking like it did, so he just listened to words he was too tired to understand.

The last thing he remembered was being placed back into his own bed, and being tucked under the covers.

When Ranpo woke the next morning, he blinked, taking a moment to question how he’d gotten from the Agency couch to his bed, having forgotten that brief moment when he’d woken. He sat up, and blinked again when a coat that very much did not belong to him, fell off his shoulders. The coat was black, heavy, and warm—everything that Ranpo enjoyed in clothes that didn’t belong to him, although he was confused as to who the coat belonged to. It was familiar somehow, yet he couldn’t quite place where he recognised it from. Perhaps Fukuzawa would know. Ranpo crawled from his bed and bundled the coat into his arms before leaving his room behind, following the smell of cooking to the kitchen where Fukuzawa stood, cooking.

Even after years of being an adult, and for the most part, independent, Ranpo had never really considered the idea of moving into his own place. He had thought about it once or twice, after Yosano had moved out to be on her own, but never followed through with anything more. It was just easier for him to stay somewhere familiar, with someone that understood him and his habits, and Fukuzawa had never complained or tried to push him into leaving—if anything, he’d just given Ranpo a few more responsibilities and chores to do.

Which, for the most part, Ranpo did, so long as it meant he didn’t have to cook. He’d rather not burn the kitchen down, or poison someone after all, mainly himself.

“Morning, President.” Ranpo chirped, entering the room to slide into one of the chairs at the dining table.

“Good morning, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa looked over his shoulder, eyes immediately falling to the coat that he was holding. “Ah yes, Bram said you are more than welcome to return his coat when you next see each other.”

Ranpo blinked. The coat was Bram’s? How had that happened. The last thing Ranpo remembered was falling asleep on the Agency couch… the Agency couch that Bram had also been sitting on when he had fallen asleep. As Ranpo realised that, memories of the walk back trickled back, and he flushed a furious red as he recalled that Bram had been the one to carry him back home—he refused to believe that he’d been put to bed by the other man, instead choosing to believe that it’d been Fukuzawa to do so.

But then Fukuzawa chuckled, and any hope Ranpo had of his preferred option vanished, embarrassment taking over. Fukuzawa slid a plate of pancakes in front of him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that kind of expression on your face.”

“What expression?” Ranpo choked, not expecting Fukuzawa to say that of all things.

“That expression.” Fukuzawa sat opposite him with his own breakfast, a knowing, yet curious expression on his face. “Your ‘I have a crush’ face.”

Ranpo felt his face burn even more, which he hadn’t thought possible. He was starting to wish he’d never gotten out of bed that morning. “I do not have a face.”

Fukuzawa hummed, and smiled to himself.

“I don’t, okay?” Ranpo said again, sulking just a little. Why was everyone so annoying once they realised that he had a crush? Not that he was admitting that he did, because he didn’t, but the moment that they all thought he did, they were all in his business. It was annoying, and did nothing but frustrate him.

“I won’t press.” Fukuzawa said softly, as if he could sense Ranpo’s rapidly declining mood. “But if you do wish to pursue those feelings of yours, you won’t have any complaints from me. Bram is a very nice man.”

“Did you two bond on the walk home, then?” Ranpo shovelled the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, only glaring at the table a little.

Another hum from the older man. “We spoke, yes. Speaking of that—” Oh no. “—are you alright?”

Ranpo glared at his now empty plate. “Everything’s fine.”

“You slept the rest of your shift, and heavily too. I wasn’t able to wake you.” Fukuzawa said. “You wouldn’t let go of Bram either, so he offered to carry you so you could keep sleeping.”

Ranpo let his head thud against the table, not even attempting to hide his embarrassment this time. “Just put me out of my misery already.”

He listened as Fukuzawa stood, not saying anything until there were fingers running through his hair soothingly. “As embarrassed as you might feel right now, my advice to you is to just follow your heart, Ranpo. It might lead you to something good.”

Yeah, but what if it leads me to something bad, instead?

As it turned out, Bram wasn’t far; in fact, the vampire—Ranpo had decided by himself, that it was okay to call the other as such—was staying at the Agency dorms, sharing a dorm with that girl who migrated between Bram and Kunikida. Apparently, Bram had been staying there since the fight at the airport ended, aside from the days he’d spent by Ranpo’s bedside, and yet somehow, Ranpo had been completely unaware. A first for him, really, considering not much managed to slip by him in the first place, not that that mattered when he had to slink up the stairs to the dorms, Bram’s coat in hand, and Atsushi and Kunikida watching him after they paused their sparring session.

Yeah, like that wasn’t annoying.

Ranpo ignored them though as he finished climbing the stairs; didn’t even acknowledge them with a look as he walked down towards the room that Bram was staying in, and opened the door without knocking. Because Ranpo was a master detective, and didn’t need to knock. He walked into the dorm, noting quickly that it looked the same as the rest of them—one bedroom, one bathroom, and a living space—before he focused on trying to find Bram.

Which wasn’t hard to do, considering the man was sitting on the couch, staring at him whilst he ate some noodles—most likely the ramen from the store just down the street. Ranpo huffed and strode over, barely giving Bram enough time to shift over before he was throwing himself onto the couch as well. “You made me fall asleep.”

Bram didn’t respond until he’d finished chewing, and Ranpo couldn’t deny that he was staring at the other’s throat as he swallowed. “I did not make you do anything. You are the one that lay down and then fell asleep.”

“You were stroking my hair.”

“You did not complain.” Bram shrugged, and ate some more noodles. “Besides, you needed the rest anyway.”

Ranpo huffed, and drew his knees to his chest, the fur of Bram’s coat tickling his nose. “All I’ve done is rest—”

“No, all you’ve done is stress.” Bram interrupted, and then offered Ranpo the bowl without making eye contact. Ranpo didn’t say anything as he took the bowl into his hands and began to eat even though he’d just finished breakfast. He listened as Bram continued. “I kept watch over you and when you weren’t sleeping, you were stressing. Yesterday was the first day that you properly rested.”

Well at least Bram was admitting that he’d been keeping watch, but then again, in the short time they’d been in each other’s presence, Ranpo had easily deduced that Bram was the kind of person to be straightforward. A little roundabout with his speech patterns, but ultimately he’d speak his mind regardless of what the topic was, which was something that Ranpo could appreciate considering he was pretty much the same kind of person. But in this situation, it meant he could ask questions and get the actual answer instead of having to try and read between the lines of what someone was trying to tell him. He placed the bowl on the ground and turned to give Bram his attention.

“Why did you carry me home?”

Bram looked towards the ceiling, thoughtful. “You shifted in your sleep and latched onto my coat. You wouldn’t let go when Fukuzawa came to collect you, so I carried you. It was easier.”

“Why, though?” Ranpo pressed. He wanted to know why Bram hadn’t just pried his fingers from his coat and let Fukuzawa take him. Anyone else would’ve.

“You’re sleeping face is adorable.” Bram said, as if it was just a casual thing to admit, and before Ranpo could even think of a response, Bram went on. “I’ve been alive on this earth for some time now, so you should stop stressing so much about having a crush and finding me attractive.”

Ranpo choked on the words he’d been forming, face turning bright red like it had earlier that morning with Fukuzawa. “H—how—?”

Bram shrugged. “You learn after the first century or so what a crushing person looks like, and you are not subtle. I could feel you staring yesterday.”

Any words that Ranpo thought about speaking, flew from his mind immediately at Bram’s words. This must be how teenagers felt when their high school sweetheart admitted to knowing about their feelings the entire time. Not that Ranpo would actually know, since he’d never finished school—not in the way that normal children went to school and graduated of course. Fukuzawa had tried of course, but Ranpo had thrown a fit after the first week, so instead, Ranpo had finished his high school years with the help of online courses.

So maybe that was why Ranpo was experiencing such a situation now of all times.

The world had seen him almost die to try and save what he loved the most, and decided to give him a chance to catch up on all those things he’d missed out on after his parents had died.

Finally, he managed to get his mouth to work. “So what if I have a crush? It’ll pass eventually.”

“That may be.” Suddenly Bram’s face was right in front of Ranpo’s, with the smallest of gaps between them. “But I’m hoping it doesn’t.”

And then Bram’s lips were against his own, but not for nearly long enough. It was quick, and soft, nothing more than to show a point, but even so, Ranpo was left reeling because he hadn’t expected it. He cursed Bram for being so hard to read as he dragged the taller back in for a longer kiss. At least now, he didn’t have to try and hide those annoying feelings anymore—he had to wonder if Yosano and Fukuzawa had known something like this would happen and played their cards in such a way to help it happen. Not that they’d tell him if he asked of course.

The second kiss was still far too short for Ranpo’s liking, but with the way that Bram was looking at him like he wanted to devour him, he was sure that there would be more to come.

And he was going to welcome it.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fic #bramran #edogawa ranpo #bram stoker #fluff #crushes #love confession #writing #fanfic

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silvfyre-writings · 4 months

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I don't want to worry you (BSD Fanfic)

I think bramran is a fitting way to end the year, don't you?

I do believe that this will be my last fic of 2023 unless I can finish the other one that I'm working on, but uhhhhh, I don't think I will, so yeah, here we are!

I am so in love with this ship, and playing around with their dynamic is fun, and something I'm enjoying a lot!! And this was my first time writing from Bram's POV, so I think I did okay.

So without further ado, I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! Leave a kudos or a comment or both as well!!!!

Bram stares at his phone with such an intense look that it’s a surprise that the device doesn’t catch on fire. He knows that staring at it won’t do anything, that it won’t make a new message appear on the screen no matter how desperately he wishes for it. He eyes the read nine days ago tag attached to the last message he’d sent, and tries not to worry. After all, his lover works hard at his job, and often forgets to reply when he gets focused, and normally Bram wouldn’t worry, but normally, Ranpo doesn’t send him one worded answers, or brush him off when he tries to organise a date, but recently, that’s what he’s been doing, and as such, Bram worries.

There are few things that he actually does worry about, mostly because it takes a lot to make him worry in the first place, but his lovers wellbeing is one thing that makes him worry a lot, hence why he’s been staring at his phone all day in the hopes of getting a response to the last message he sent: Ranpo, are you okay?

Bram tries not to worry, telling himself that Ranpo is fine, and that he’ll simply message him when he gets time; he remembers Ranpo telling him about a big case that’d come through, and that it was all hands on deck—even his. But it’s been nine days, and no matter how difficult a case is, Ranpo has never needed more than three to solve one. And sure, Bram could reach out to Ranpo’s friends and co-workers, but he doesn’t want to distract them from their work, doesn’t want to make them worry either since they already worry enough about their head detective.

He sighs, and checks his messages again, even though he knows that no new ones have come through, and his gut churns as he, once again, focuses on that nine day old tag, because it’s not normal, and although nothing about him and Ranpo is normal to begin with, their communication is the most normal thing about them, which is why Bram knows that something is up, and that perhaps, he shouldn’t wait any longer this time, that maybe he should be the one to take initiative this time.

It’s decided. He’ll go to the Agency and check to see if Ranpo is there, and if he isn’t, then he’ll stop by Ranpo’s home and check there.

Bram stands up, swipes his phone off the counter and strides over to the coatrack he’d been gifted by… someone—Dazai he thinks, but to be honest he isn’t sure, since it just turned up in his apartment one day without his knowledge—and pulls his coat off of it, and then tugs it on. Once he makes sure he has his keys, he leaves his apartment behind and sets off down the street. He has a vague idea of how to get to the Agency without using his phone as a navigation aid, no thanks to said Agency making him study the maps of Yokohama since he made the decision to stay.

A decision he was still adjusting to, but so far, hadn’t regretted it.

The walk to the Agency is peaceful, and gives Bram a chance to think over what he plans to do. His main goal of course, is to find out where Ranpo is and why he’s been ghosting him this entire time, but he also wants to do so in a way that doesn’t worry anyone else. Because if there’s one thing that Bram’s learnt since meeting Ranpo, it’s that the genius detective doesn’t like being fussed over, no matter what. Ranpo could be bleeding out, or suffering from some kind of plague, yet he would still insist that he’s fine��thankfully, his fellow detectives were on top of things, and did their best to stop Ranpo brushing them off, but sometimes, he did manage to fool them.

Before he knows it, he’s at the Agency, and climbing the stairs, only to run into the Agency’s doctor halfway up. Bram stops and stares at her, eyes widening just a little, and Yosano’s mouth drops open a little bit at the sight of him. “Bram, what brings you here? Is Ranpo alright?”

Yosano’s words cause Bram’s own question to die before he can even voice it, and he frowns, because why is she asking him about Ranpo? Ranpo’s been at work, hasn’t he? Bram thinks, and then elects to just speak the truth. “I haven’t seen Ranpo in two weeks, and I haven’t heard from him in nine days. He told me he had a case, so I assumed he would be here, working.”

Now it’s Yosano’s turn to frown, and she shakes her head slowly. “No… Ranpo called out sick a couple of weeks ago, said he’d be back once he felt better. We simply assumed he was staying with you while he got better.”

So Ranpo had lied to both Bram and his co-workers… but why? Were they in danger from a new threat, and Ranpo was trying to protect them? Was there something going on with Ranpo that he didn’t want those closest to him to know about? There were so many possibilities, and Bram couldn’t stop running through them in his head, trying to figure out which one is the most plausible. But not one possibility calls to him, which makes him think he’s wrong, but the churning in his gut makes him think he’s also on the right track.

“Is… there someone closer to Ranpo than either of us?” Bram asks after a moment of silence. He knows that Ranpo has people closer to him than just Bram—he knows that Yosano is one of them, and that the president of the Agency is another, but other than that, he has no clue. He in Ranpo are still in the ‘learning about each other’ stage of their relationship after all, it makes sense for him to not know everything yet.

“Well, there’s Fukuzawa—he’s known Ranpo since he was young after all.” Yosano brings a hand up to scratch at her chin in, deep in thought. “And well, me and the rest of the Agency, but we already established that that’s not helpful… maybe Poe? He’s a friend of Ranpo’s, and I know that Ranpo sometimes visits him.”

Bram nods, and files away the information for later. He feels like he’s been told this before, since the names feel familiar, and then a bit of guilt wells up inside him that he should already know this, but he squashes it down and blames it on the worry he’s feeling. “Would it be possible to speak to Fukuzawa?”

“Sure, he’s in his office. First door once you get up the stairs.” Yosano points behind her and then steps past him, calling over her shoulder. “Good luck, Bram!”

Her abrupt departure leaves Bram alone on the stairs, and he watches after the doctor until she disappears from sight, just blinking from how short and simple the conversation was. Usually conversations with any of the Agency members took several minutes—sometimes hours if stuck with certain members—and not… a minute. But no matter, the conversation had given him a starting point, and that was what mattered, so he turned on his heel and made his way up the stairs, spotting the office he was supposed to enter the moment he got to the top.

Bram paused outside the door, wondering for a moment if he was being too forward, and that he’s bothering someone who is busy just because he’s just a little worried, but once again, he squashes that feeling down, knocking on the door.

The door swings open after a few seconds, and reveals the man at the head of the Agency—and a man that Bram realises is familiar, and that he’s met before at a recent dinner that Ranpo had dragged him to; some kind of family dinner that Bram vaguely recalled as also serving as an introduction between him and one Fukuzawa Yukichi.

Fukuzawa is shorter than Bram, so he has to look down to meet the older mans eyes, and for minutes, the two stare at each other, with no words being spoken.

Bram is the one to break the silence, giving a polite bow as he’d been taught was custom. “I do not mean to disturb you, Fukuzawa, but I have come to ask you of something.”

“You wish to know of Ranpo’s whereabouts.” It’s not a question, but a statement, and Bram blinks, surprised that Fukuzawa is aware of what he’s after—which means the man also has the answer he’s seeking.

“I am. I haven’t heard from him in several days, and I am growing worried.”

Fukuzawa hums, his eyes closing as he thinks.

Bram simply waits patiently while he does.

After a while, Fukuzawa opens his eyes again. “He’s currently staying with me. He’s been… unwell lately, so I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“But you are here.” Bram says.

Fukuzawa nods. “Ranpo insisted I still come to work because he did not wish to worry anyone. I was about to leave to go and check on him, but I won’t begrudge you from going in my place if you would like to soothe your worry.”

“That would be much appreciated, thank you.”

Fukuzawa gives another nod before reaching into his sleeve to pull out a key and his phone. He holds out the key towards Bram, and taps away at his phone. “This is the key to my apartment, and I will text you the address—Ranpo gave me your number after dinner.”

Bram nods, and pulls his own phone out of his pocket once the message tone goes off. “Thank you. I will do my best.”

“I know you will, Bram.” Fukuzawa gives him a soft smile, one that makes Bram feel warm inside. “You care for Ranpo deeply, and that is something I appreciate.”

Bram didn’t know what he was expecting when he steps into Fukuzawa’s apartment, but total silence isn’t it. Fukuzawa had said that Ranpo was unwell, and Bram distinctly remembers the last time that Ranpo was sick; he’d laid on the couch, filled with complaints and glasses of juice, watching whatever was on the television at the time. And yet, here, there is no Ranpo in sight, no mess to even indicate that he’s even here in the first place. But he has to be, because that is what the Agency president had said, so Ranpo simply must be elsewhere in the apartment.

With that in mind, Bram steps further into the apartment, barely remembering to pull of his boots in time, and looks around. The apartment is neat and tidy, freshly cleaned from the looks of it, although there is a bottle of water, and a couple of what looks to be medicinal pills next to it. Underneath the bottle is a note that must’ve been written by Fukuzawa before he’d left that morning:

Take your medication please, Ranpo. You know it helps. I’ll be by to check on you at lunch.

- Fukuzawa

Bram studies the note, and then eyes off the water and medication, before grabbing both and continuing on his search for Ranpo.

It doesn’t take long to figure out where Ranpo is, since there are only two other rooms in the apartment, and only one of the doors is closed, which means that the younger detective must be there. First, Bram knocks on the door, but when he doesn’t get a response, he quietly opens it and steps into the darkened room, closing the door behind him with a click.

It takes a moment for Bram’s eyes to adjust to the darkness—not total darkness, because even though the curtains are drawn, there’s a light plugged into the wall, providing a glow that allows some visibility—but once they do, his attention is drawn immediately to the lump in the bed, currently drowning in blankets. Bram steps closer to the lump, making sure that he can be heard so as not to spook Ranpo when he sits on the edge of the bed. “Ranpo?”

The lump under the blanket jerks, and then shifts before a head slowly appears with tangled hair, and eyebags so heavy that it makes Ranpo look like someone has punched him in the face. Even his eyes, which are normally so green and bright, and full of life, look nothing more than decaying herbs as they seem to stare right through Bram, unblinking, until Ranpo lets out a sigh and drags the blankets back over his head. “Go away…”

Ranpo’s reaction stumps Bram, who has never seen his lover as anything other than cheerful and energetic, so he’s not entirely sure what he’s meant to do here.

But then Bram remembers Fukuzawa’s faith in him, and his determination returns full force—he needs to do good; he needs to be helpful; he needs to take care of Ranpo.

“I will not.” Bram says, reaching over to tug the blankets down until Ranpo’s face is visible again. “It’s been nine days since I last heard from you, so I got worried, and it seems like I was right to worry in the first place.”

Ranpo grunts, refusing to look his way again. “How did you even get in? Fukuzawa isn’t home.”

“I went to the Agency to see if you were there, because you told me you had a case.” Bram said, watching Ranpo’s head turn the tiniest bit to look at him. “I ran into Yosano, who directed me to Fukuzawa, who told me you were unwell, and then he gave me a key.”

“Of course he did.” Ranpo sighs, eyes disappearing from view again. “Well, you’ve seen me, so you can go now.”

“No, because something is wrong and I want to help.” Bram says and places the water on the bedside table next to an empty cup, and grabs the medicine from his pocket. He taps Ranpo on the shoulder, until Ranpo groans and just rolls over to face him. “These were on the kitchen bench when I got here, you should probably take them.”

Ranpo eyes the pills, and Bram turns to grab the water, holding both out to his lover. He watches the younger’s eyes flit from his hands to his face, a variety of emotions crossing it before resignation settles there, and he pushes himself onto his elbow to take them from Bram’s hands. Ranpo throws the medicine into his mouth, and swallows the pills with a mouthful of water; then the water is being pressed into Bram’s hands again, and Ranpo turns back to face the wall.

A silence falls between them, Bram using that moment to study Ranpo carefully. Aside from the bags under his eyes, and a pale complexion, there isn’t really anything that says Ranpo is sick; he’s not coughing and his skin is free of fever-sweat. Which leads him to think that whatever’s going on, it’s something else and being sick is just the coverup excuse. Injured? No, I’d smell blood if he was wounded. Maybe the illness is something else…?

In the end, Bram just decides to ask. “What’s wrong with you?”

Silence, and then a huff that could have been a laugh. “That’s a bit of a blunt question.”

“You told me you preferred me being blunt.” Bram shrugs.

Ranpo hums, but doesn’t say anything more, not even to answer Bram’s question, which he thinks means that he can continue with his observations.

“You do not seem to be sick in the way that you were the last time you were sick—”

“That’s because it’s not your usual sickness.” Ranpo interrupts, and then curls up into a tiny ball. “’m just a little bit sad, that’s all you need to know.”

“Ah, I understand.” And Bram did understand. After all, one doesn’t exactly handle just being a head and a body for so many years by being happy, and even before that, when the people of his homeland turned against him and called him a monster, no matter how many times he tried to tell them that he wasn’t the one responsible for their people dying, one wasn’t exactly happy about that, especially when it ended in your near death. And those were just the ones with reason; there’d also been times where, seemingly for no reason, he’d felt less inclined to getting out of bed that day.

So he did understand.

And it tugs at his heart that someone important to him is going through such a thing.

Bram stands from the bed, and in no more than a few seconds, he’s pulling all the blankets off of Ranpo and lifting him from the bed.

“Wha—hey! Put me down!” Despite his protests, Ranpo doesn’t try to fight him.

“No.” Bram says, adjusting his grip on Ranpo so he can carry Ranpo easier. The moment he does, arms come to wrap around his shoulders, and Ranpo hides his face into the crook of Bram’s neck.

“Please put me down.”

“No. You are suffering from… I think they call it depression now, so I will do what I can to help you deal with it easier, and that means taking care of your physical needs so you can fight the demons in your mind.”

Ranpo sighs and tightens his hold, but he doesn’t say anything as Bram carries him from the room, which is fine with him, since he would much rather Ranpo not fight him as he tries to help.

It’s silent between the two of them as Bram carries Ranpo into the bathroom—not after struggling to find it in the first place—and seats him on the edge of the toilet seat so that he can get the shower ready. Ranpo’s head droops where he sits, his hair hiding his face from view as the rest of his body trembles; it looks like it’s taking all the energy that Ranpo has left to stay upright, and it tugs at Bram. He steps away long enough to turn the shower on before returning to kneel in front of Ranpo, raising a hand to cup his lovers cheek, running a thumb over Ranpo’s cheek.

Ranpo’s eyes flit to him.

“You don’t need to do anything, alright?” Bram reassures, leaning up to press their foreheads together. “Just let me take care of you, and I’ll do the rest.”

For a moment, Ranpo stares at him, and then drops his head to rest on Bram’s shoulder. “… okay.”

Bram nods, pleased with Ranpo’s answer, and sets about doing as he said he would; helping. He pulls away slowly, and stands, gripping Ranpo’s arms with his own and guiding his lover to his feet. He continues to hold Ranpo up with one arm, and with the other, he unbuttons Ranpo’s shirt, and tugs it off the others body. Next come the pants, and it’s the only time Bram asks Ranpo to help, continuing to hold his love upright as he shrugs off his pants and the underwear underneath, and then, it’s time for the shower.

He doesn’t hesitate to step under the spray, ignoring how his clothes become soaked in an instant and stick to his skin because it’s not important. It’s much more important for him to take care of Ranpo right now, since his love has been struggling to take care of himself if the state of him is anything to go by. It makes Bram wonder what exactly Fukuzawa has been doing to try and help the situation, but he tries not to judge—in situations such as these where the person important to you is suffering, you simply do the best that you can, and sometimes that means taking each day as it comes. Depression is ugly at times, he knows this from experience, which is why he’s determined to try and help. Bram doesn’t expect to magically fix how Ranpo is feeling right now, but he hopes to make him feel a little better at least.

With that in mind, Bram guides Ranpo to sit on the floor of the shower, following him down to kneel behind him. He reaches behind him, grabbing blindly for the shampoo until his hands knock into the bottle and that of the conditioner beside it. It only takes him a second to decide on grabbing both, and brings them into his view; he elects to just squirt the shampoo straight onto Ranpo’s head, and begins to drag his nails through tangled black hair, taking care to get the tangles out in a way that won’t cause Ranpo any pain.

Ranpo lets out a sigh, and shifts to rest his head on his knees, eyes closed as he gives in to Bram’s ministrations. It’s hard to see his expression from here, but Bram imagines it to be a little content, but emotionless all the same.

“Tilt your head back.” Bram says once he’s finished, and places a hand on Ranpo’s forehead to encourage him into following his words. Then, he rinses out the shampoo and starts the process over again the conditioner.

Once that’s done, Bram stands and turns the water off before guiding Ranpo up again and helping him out of the shower. And like before, it’s done in silence, and Bram doesn’t break that silence as he grabs a towel and drapes it over Ranpo’s head. He starts to dry it, only to have Ranpo’s hands come up to grasp at his own.

“I can do this…” Ranpo says, looking up into Bram’s eyes. “You go get changed. Fukuzawa has spare yukata’s; he won’t mind if you borrow one.”

“You are sure?”

Ranpo nods.

“Alright.” Bram leaves Ranpo to finish off, going to hunt down a yukata and get out of his wet clothes. In hindsight, getting into the shower without getting undressed first was a poor decision, but Bram hadn’t exactly been thinking when he’d done it. But what’s done is done, and now all that’s left to do is get Ranpo fed, a task that seems simple enough considering how much the detective likes to eat on a daily basis, even if it is mostly sweets.

But that was when Ranpo was feeling good.

Because right now, Ranpo is refusing to eat anything that Bram offers him.

“Why not just some toast?” Bram suggests after having yet another meal shot down, now dressed in a fresh yukata that’s a tad too short for him, and he’s pulled his damp hair into a bun.

Ranpo pulls a face and shakes his head. “I’m not hungry…”

Bram hums, worried, because he’s pretty sure that Ranpo hasn’t eaten anything in recent days—it doesn’t take a genius to see that his love has lost weight since he last saw him—and while he’s resigned himself to not getting Ranpo to eat an actual meal when he feels as terrible as he does, he refuses to let Ranpo eat nothing. “What does Fukuzawa usually do when you aren’t hungry?”

The expression on Ranpo’s face tightens even more before it just disappears entirely and is replaced with defeat. Ranpo stretches out across the table. “He usually cuts up an apple… or any kind of fruit, really…”

“Apple it is then.” Bram moves towards the fridge, quickly finding the apples, and from there it only takes him a couple of minutes to slice it up and put it on a plate. He slides into the seat next to Ranpo and picks up one of the slices and holds it out. “Can I ask a question?”

“Yeah.” Ranpo shrugs, and after eyeing the slice of apple carefully, takes it and nibbles on it.

“You could have stayed with me if you were feeling like this, I would not have judged you, so why did you not tell me?”

For a while, Ranpo is silent, and Bram thinks that he’s not going to get an answer, but then Ranpo shrugs and begins to speak. “I don’t know. Didn’t want to burden you or worry you, I guess, so I just lied and hid.” Ranpo gives an empty laugh. “But I failed anyways.”

“I care about you.” Bram argues gently, choosing to be soft instead of blunt for a change. “So of course I was bound to worry when you stopped talking to me.”

Ranpo hums, and picks up another apple slice. “You don’t need to worry, I’ll be fine. I’m safe here.”

Bram understands the implication of the words without having to question them, and it makes sense why Ranpo chose to come to Fukuzawa rather than himself. Fukuzawa has known Ranpo for years after all, has probably seen this side of Ranpo many times over and knows exactly how to handle it, unlike Bram who is witnessing this side of the person he’s chosen to love, for the first time. And while he trusts Ranpo’s words when he says that he will be fine, Bram also wished that Ranpo would accept help just a little bit more; it might make these days more bearable.

“I understand that you come to Fukuzawa because he is familiar, and understands you best,” Bram begins to say, reaching over to draw Ranpo into a one-armed embrace, pressing his lips to Ranpo’s crown, “but I ask that the next time you feel this way, that you let me know. I want to help you when you cannot help yourself.”

Ranpo flushes, and turns to bury his face into Bram’s chest, hands coming up to clutch at the yukata he’s wearing. He makes a noise like he wants to say something, but then falls silent.

Bram doesn’t hesitate to wrap his other arm around Ranpo and draw him closer. “You don’t need to answer. I don’t expect one. Taking in what I say is enough.”

“… thank you.”

When Fukuzawa steps into the apartment late in the evening, he certainly didn’t expect it to be silent—well, he did, because his apartment’s been silent for the past two weeks—but somehow, the silence seems different this time, and he’s almost certain it’s because of Bram. He’s not sure what Ranpo’s boyfriend… partner… lover—he’s not entirely sure what the two have labelled themselves with if he’s being honest—has done since he sent him over, but he knows that something occurred here.

If not for the apple scraps on the bench, and the fact that Ranpo’s meds are gone from where he’d left them on his way out of the apartment that morning, then it would be the sheets that Fukuzawa had been trying to change for days, hanging on a rack, freshly washed along with two towels, that gave it away.

Quietly, he makes a beeline for Ranpo’s room, since neither he nor Bram are within his sights, and he’s rewarded when he opens the door and sees the two of them crammed into Ranpo’s too small bed, asleep. Fukuzawa’s lips twitch into a smile as he observes the way that Ranpo is curled against Bram’s chest whilst Bram holds him protectively; Ranpo’s head is tucked underneath Bram’s chin, and Fukuzawa can see from his spot that Ranpo’s hair has been washed, and he gives Bram a silent thanks.

Getting Ranpo into the shower when he was in the midst of a depressive episode was a battle that Fukuzawa seldom won, so he’s grateful that Bram’s somehow achieved that.

A noise from Ranpo catches his attention, and it sounds like he’s about to wake up, but then Bram’s arm moves to run up and down his back in a soothing manner, as if he’s had to do this before, and Ranpo falls silent, face softening back into sleep. Bram’s hand slows until it stops, but not before he tightens his grip on Ranpo.

Fukuzawa’s smile widens a little, and he carefully shuts the door as he leaves the two to sleep.

Love doesn’t cure all, but it can certainly help ease one’s pain, and that is what Fukuzawa clings to as he goes to make himself some tea.

Tea for three.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #hurt/comfort #light angst #comfort #bramran #bram stoker #edogawa ranpo #writing #fanfic #depression

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silvfyre-writings · 2 months

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Take their names out of your mouth (BSD Fanfic)

I return with bramran!! I always have so much fun writing hurt/comfort fics, and this one is no different. I also have a personal goal of having bramran reach 30 fics by the end of the year, so let's see how that goes :D

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Ranpo’s day starts off fine.

He goes to work, he solves cases, he gets praised; it’s the same as every other day, and yet there is a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that just sits there… waiting. What for, he doesn’t know—well, it’s more that he doesn’t care, since if it was truly important, then the feeling would be at the forefront of his mind. So, he forgets about it.

Until lunch.

The moment he goes down to the café below the Agency, and sits in one of the booths, a sickeningly sweet sundae in front of him, it all goes downhill. He manages to enjoy just four bites of his sundae before his mood flips, because that’s when two officers that he’d worked with earlier in the week, walk into the café, talking shit about him.

Now, Ranpo isn’t one to let other’s words get to him. Not since the day Fukuzawa picked him up and told him that he was special. There wasn’t much point in his opinion, since it’s already been long established that he’s the smartest in the room, and that everyone else is just stupid, which includes the useless words that often spill out of their mouths. But there were times, like right now, where the words seemed specifically designed to hurt him, and it was always when people thought they were alone.

Ranpo’s used to people insulting him right in his face, gets a rise out of returning the favour to whoever speaks them, but he gets frustrated when people do it when they think he’s not around, because it’s not a game then, and Ranpo can’t defend himself.

Not to mention that the words are always crueller, more truthful, when people think you can’t hear them.

He says nothing as the officers walk up to the counter to place their order, and ducks his head when they move to sit at the booth behind him. It’s unintentional on their part, but in Ranpo’s mind that doesn’t matter; it’s not like the café is busy at this hour, and it’s not as if it’s hidden knowledge that the Agency is just a few floors up. Either these two are waiting for a superior that’s gone up the stairs, or they’re hoping that he’ll come down them.

Well, the jokes on them, since he’s already here, and openly eavesdropping on them.

“What’s Edogawa’s deal anyway?” One of the officer’s say, contempt in their voice as they speak to their companion. “What right does he have to come trouncing over our crime scene?”

“He’s been doing it for twelve or so years apparently.” The other officer says, less upset than their companion, but still annoyed. “Yasui-san let him get away with it for so long, and now Minoura-san’s doing the same. Our bosses seriously need to get a backbone—”

Ranpo narrows his eyes. Yasui and Minoura both have plenty of backbone, having stood up to him many times in the past when they’d believed him to be wrong—he’d eventually proven that he was right though, but that wasn’t the point.

“—otherwise we’ll never be respected.”

“We aren’t respected anyway. Edogawa’s made it quite clear that we’re nothing but a speck of dirt on his shoe.” Comes the bitter response. “Clearly his parents never bothered to teach him respect.”

In an instant Ranpo freezes, spoonful of ice cream stopping just in front of his mouth. The wound that was the loss of his parents tearing open like it’d never healed in the first place. Across the room, he sees Lucy look at him in concern that is bridled by anger, silently asking if he wants her to step in and chase these people out. Ranpo tightens his grip on his spoon and shakes his head. This is a battle he’s more than capable of dealing with; it’s not as if people haven’t tried to use his parents—or lack thereof—against him before. He’s an adult now, not some wayward teenager, that knows his worth and has people that care about him. The opinion of some dissatisfied officers is nothing to him, he’ll let them finish their complaining and then—

“He’s an orphan apparently. They probably died before they could.”

And then—

A humourless chuckle, followed by the sound of utensils. “What’s the bet they orchestrated that accident themselves just to get away from their asshole kid?”

And then—

“Hey!” Lucy intervened then, rushing out from behind the counter and storming over, arms crossed, and a furious scowl on her face. “I don’t know what your problem is, but we don’t tolerate that kind of talk here. So get out before I throw you out.” Silence follows her words which gives her the opportunity to turn towards him. “Ranpo-san, can I get something for you?” Do you want me to call the Agency down?

And then Ranpo smiles. He stands, eyes flicking from Lucy towards the officer’s whose faces have turned ashen. One of them opens their mouth to say something—no doubt an apology they don’t even mean in the first place—but Ranpo cuts them off before the first syllable can leave their mouth. “No thanks. I’m just about to leave.” It’s fine, I’ve got it handled.

“Edogawa—”

“Enjoy your meal officers. I do hope that I’ll see you on the next case Minoura-kun calls me out for.” The words are empty, and Ranpo can see the realisation and fear in their eyes as they figure out that he fully intends on telling Minoura what they’ve said about him, and that depending on how courteous Minoura is, their jobs may be on the line.

Not that Ranpo cares. They should’ve been more aware of their surroundings before they started running their mouths.

He drops some money onto the table before he leaves. It’s rude, he knows that, but right now he just needs to leave. The atmosphere of the café is stifling, threatening to suffocate him, and that feeling he’s had since morning has made itself known. Overwhelmed. Something that happens frequently, yet never recognises because the build-up is always different. And yet, the triggers always seem to be the same; someone saying something that he disagrees with, that sets him off in an instant.

His parents is one such trigger.

Once upon a time, when he’d first begun to live with Fukuzawa, they’d argued. It was bound to happen considering their differences in personality, and the shift in dynamic that they’d both still been getting used to at the time. Buttons were pressed, barbs were thrown, and it was the first time that Ranpo’s parents had been dragged into the conversation to make a negative point. He still remembered that moment clearly; the words leaving Fukuzawa’s mouth, the way the older man stiffened the moment he realised what he’d said, and Ranpo’s world coming to a screeching halt.

Fukuzawa, of course, apologised immediately, and they managed to talk it out—otherwise Ranpo wouldn’t have stayed with the man—but it still didn’t change that the words were said in the first place. What mattered was what happened afterwards, and after that argument, Ranpo’s parents were never brought up when emotions were high.

And now they’d been brought up again, by strangers, who had no right to speculate about their deaths—the deaths that were proven to have been an accident.

And still, Ranpo can’t stop himself from jumping from zero to a hundred the moment they get brought up.

He leaves the café behind, and instead of going upstairs to the Agency, he leaves the building entirely. The world around him sounds like it’s underwater, and his vision is swimming, even though he knows there’s nothing physically wrong with him. It’s like he’s stepped out of his body, moving on autopilot to a destination he doesn’t know. And he just lets it happen. He doesn’t try to fight it, even though he knows he should. He doesn’t try to think, to understand, what just happened, and he completely ignores the emotions his mind is trying to make him feel.

Despair, anger, fear; he squashes them into a ball and locks them away in the corner of his mind.

Right now, Edogawa Ranpo feels nothing, and that is just fine by him.

He’s not sure how long he walks for, nor is he sure where he’s gone, but what breaks him out of his stupor is the whistle of a train. He jerks, stumbling over his feet, and colliding with a stranger that shoves him away with a look of disgust. The touch burns, it truly burns, hot and heavy where the brief contact had occurred. Someone else brushes past him, and that touch burns too. Ranpo wraps his arm around himself, suddenly overwhelmed for a different reason now as the world filters back in.

The noise of the station. The brightness of the lights. The compressed feeling of the air.

It’s all too much for him, his knees give out and he collapses to the floor. He covers his face with his hands and presses it against the ground, uncaring that it’s a dirty station floor. He just wants the world to stop right now, and this is the best way he can—by pretending that it simply doesn’t exist.

It doesn’t work, because of course it doesn’t. Just because he stops, doesn’t mean that everyone around him is going to do the same. Around him he can hear whispers; a child points at him and asks his parent what the strange man is doing—hush now, just ignore him. It reminds him of his parents, when they would take the time to explain things that he didn’t understand until he could. It makes him miss them even more than he already does, and his heart aches, along with the rest of his body.

He thinks he hears someone ask if he’s okay—or it might be if he needs help, he doesn’t know—but he can’t hear them clearly over the roaring in his ears, over the cacophony the station provides.

Ranpo wants to scream, he wants to tear his hair out, but all he can do is lay against the dirty station floor and just shut down.

There’s a cold touch against his face, but before he can panic, the world goes silent, and a heavy weight presses on his back.

And Ranpo feels like he can breathe again.

After a moment, he raises his head, and finds himself staring into the crimson eyes of his vampiric lover. Bram stares at him, concerned, even as the rest of his face is in its usual monotone look—it’s the eyes, always the eyes—and Ranpo feels Bram’s nails against the back of his scalp. The touch is gentle, soothing, because the older is more than aware of how to handle Ranpo when he’s at his worst, which is why Bram doesn’t say anything as Ranpo tries to pull himself together.

Only, his body chooses then to completely betray him, because he feels tears well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. How embarrassing, he thinks, to be breaking down in the middle of a train station during rush hour, but before he can hide away from the world again, Bram presses his hands firmer against his ears, which also prevents Ranpo from lowering his head, and leans forward to press a kiss against his forehead.

The gesture calms Ranpo. He can feel his heartbeat slowing, his airway clearing—he hadn’t even been aware of his panicked breathing, that’s how out of it he was—and soon, he feels like he can face the world again, even as the first wave of exhaustion hits him. He moves to sit up, and Bram follows him, hands not once leaving their place in blocking out the sounds of the world. The weight on his back slips, but is quickly readjusted, and that’s when Ranpo realizes that it’s Bram’s coat that’s resting around his shoulders. But considering that the vampire’s hands are currently occupied, he’s not sure who it is that’s also witnessing him crumble apart.

He receives an answer when Aya steps into view, keeping a respectful distance as she observes quietly. Her face is openly concerned, and she shifts from side to side, wanting to help, but knowing him well enough to keep her distance. And Ranpo appreciates it. His words fail him when he tries to say as such, so he gives the girl what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Aya returns it, which makes him think he succeeded.

“Ranpo.” Bram’s voice is muffled, but he’s kneeling close enough that Ranpo can still hear his words. He looks up into those eyes of crimson, blinking slowly—tiredly. “Can you cover your ears so we can get you out of here?”

It takes a moment for the words to register in Ranpo’s mind, and when they do, he nods, and brings his hands up to replace Bram’s own. For a split second, in the moment where Bram moves his hands, and Ranpo covers his own ears, the sounds of the station flood his senses and threaten to overwhelm him, but soon enough, the sounds become muffled again, and Ranpo finds himself focusing on the warmth that is Bram’s body as the older man swings Ranpo up into his arms, coat and all.

Ranpo keeps his eyes closed as Bram walks; normally he’d be embarrassed at being carried in public, but he’s already long passed that, so he instead focuses on the gentle motions that lull him into further calmness. This is where Bram’s absurd height comes in handy; the extra inches somehow allow the vampire to move smoothly—he’s also sure it’s just centuries of practice, but Ranpo likes to imagine it’s the height. Longer legs and all that.

After that, Ranpo loses time. He opens his eyes after what he thinks is a few minutes to find that they’ve left the station entirely now, and that they’re in a park that’s thankfully devoid of other people. Bram stops in front of a park bench, and glances down at him before moving to set him on his feet. Ranpo allows it, but still clings to the other with one hand as he sits. He doesn’t want to let go and risk Bram leaving him too—an unreasonable thought, but Ranpo’s never been the most rational person after a meltdown.

Almost as if he can read Ranpo’s mind, Bram sits beside him, and reaches to grab at the hand that’s clutching his shirt with one of his own, gently pulling it away and lacing their fingers together. Bram studies him carefully before he turns to Aya. “I wish to speak with Ranpo alone. Will you be alright to continue to the Agency on your own?”

“Of course I will be.” Aya exclaims, hands on her hips. It’s an act; Ranpo can see the stress on her face, not at going on alone, but for him. Turns out Kunikida was right when he said that the girl was empathetic to everyone she knew, regardless of closeness. Ranpo blinks as her eyes fall on him. “Hope you feel better soon, Ranpo-san. I’ll tell the others you’re with Bra-chan.”

The words get lodged in his throat again, so Ranpo simply inclines his head in response. Aya skips off in the next second, leaving him alone with Bram, and it’s the most at peace he’s felt since the incident in the café.

Bram runs a thumb over the back of Ranpo’s knuckles soothingly. “Are you able to talk yet?”

Ranpo shakes his head. He’s calmer now than before, but it still feels like there’s something trapping his words within him, locking them within a cage that’s gotten lodged in his throat. Even after swallowing, the feeling doesn’t go away.

“That’s okay.” Bram says, squeezing his hand this time. “I can take you back to your dorm?”

He nods this time, and tightens his grip on his lover’s hand.

“Of course I will stay with you.” Bram stands and tugs Ranpo upright. With his free hand, he adjusts the coat around Ranpo’s shoulders again, and then they set off for the Agency dorms, where Ranpo can curl up underneath his futon and hide from the world, but this time, not lose himself entirely.

Today has certainly been a day.

The moment that the door shuts behind him, Ranpo drops Bram’s hand and strides towards his bedroom, ripping off his clothes as he goes, leaving them scattered about. Normally his clothes bring him comfort, the loose material doing wonders to stop his senses from overloading, but now, they suffocate him. He’s almost certain that it’s just him, and not actually the clothes, considering the suffocating feeling only eases off marginally once he’s naked, but if he tells himself enough that it helps, he’s sure that he’ll believe it eventually.

It’s the better option when the other is him tearing at his skin to try and get rid of it.

Behind him, he can hear Bram moving about, can hear him picking up the clothes that Ranpo discards, and ignores it in favour of his futon. He practically dives into it, drawing the blankets up and over his head until there’s nothing but darkness and his own shaky breathing. He’s pathetic, truly pathetic, to be hiding from the world like this. Earlier, he claimed to himself that he was an adult, that could handle things in an adult manner, but here he is, breaking into pieces like he used to when he was a teenager lost in the world.

“You are allowed to break, Ranpo. There’s no shame in how you handle things.”

The words echo in his mind, words from over a decade ago that he’s clung to for so long in moments like these. The reminder helps him to believe that he’s not overreacting, and that this is just how he was built to handle things. He remembers being told once, that what others see as an overreaction, is simply just him responding to a situation in the way his mind was programmed to. Everyone is different, that voice continues to say. Where one may cry, another may not. Being shamed for your reaction is wrong.

Ranpo repeats those words in his mind, and jumps when light invades his cocoon. A protest that dies as fast as it forms, half-heartedly falls from his lips as warm arms envelop him, pulling him against a chest with a steadily beating heart. He turns his head to press an ear closer to it, until all he can hear his that heartbeat. As he listens, he relaxes, and when the first drag of nails through his hair comes, he relaxes even more.

“I have you.” Bram murmurs, the words reverberating beneath Ranpo’s ear. They bring tears to his eyes that he refuses to let fall. But of course, that fails when Bram repeats his words. “I have you.”

The first sob comes as expected, so do the first lot of tears. What isn’t expected is the wail that he lets out, all the words that have been trapped inside him escaping in that one cry.

And then Ranpo breaks.

Bram holds him close, humming soothingly into the crown of his head, and running one hand through his hair. The other is wrapped around his shoulders, a reassuring weight. It’s a relief to have Bram there, Ranpo finds, as he cries and throws his fists against that firm chest. The vampire isn’t spooked by him breaking, nor does he mock or call him a fool for being unable to control himself when his emotions take the reins. All his love ever does is hold him close and accept it. He soothes, he holds, as one does when the one you care about his hurting, but he always goes at the pace that Ranpo sets, no matter how long it might go on for.

This time, it’s just a few minutes, probably due to him having broken at the train station earlier, and Ranpo sniffs, croaking out a quiet I’m sorry.

“No need to apologise.” Bram says, not once letting up in his ministrations. He does loosen his grip though, allowing Ranpo to shift so they can be eye level without Ranpo needing to crane his neck.

Ranpo closes his eyes and sniffs again. He feels the lingering tears be brushed away, and decides that he owes Bram an explanation, a small one, a summary. “Some officers were being assholes when they thought I couldn’t hear them.”

Bram hums. “Aren’t they usually?”

He’s not wrong, but still, Ranpo corrects him. “They brought up my parents. In a not nice way.”

The hand in his hair stills, and the atmosphere turns icy. There is pure venom in Bram’s voice as he speaks. “How dare they.”

New tears form in Ranpo’s eyes, and he shuffles forward to press his face into the crook of Bram’s neck. Bram immediately wraps his arms around him protectively. The other’s anger is reassuring, and he knows that if it weren’t for his poor emotional state, that Bram would be flying out the door to hunt down and, well, he’s not quite sure what Bram would do actually; it could be anywhere from scaring to eviscerating, and Ranpo finds himself entertaining both options.

“Will you be okay?” Bram asks after a moment.

Will you be okay, not are you okay. God, Ranpo loves this man.

“I will be.” He says. “But not right now.”

Ranpo feels lips against his temple, the words that follow, whispered into his ear. “That is fine. Take your time, love, I am not going anywhere.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #hurt/comfort #comfort #bramran #bram stoker #edgar allan poe #writing #fanfic

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