#trans Edgar Allan Poe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silvfyre-writings · 1 year ago

Text

I love you for you (BSD Fanfic)

Soooooo, hiiiii. Welcome to a fic I have been sitting on for a while now because I wasn't sure on whether to post it or not. But then I shared it with a friend and they enjoyed it, which gave me the confidence to post it (thank you friend <3). Even as I'm writing this, I am nervous and unsure, but I'm pushing through to just share something relatable for all the period buddies out there that suffer when shark week/mother nature/monthlies comes around.

Now, I am not trans, but I am non-binary, so idk, I have some idea of the process of transitioning because I got asked all the questions when I started my top surgery process, so Ranpo's experience is based upon that mostly. Ranpo's feelings on the other hand, are entirely based upon my own experiences, so any negativity can be taken right back out the door, thank you.

But yes, anyways, enjoy some ranpoe comfort!

Cramps were a bitch.

This was something that Ranpo had long since learnt, long before he’d started his transition, and long before he’d found himself living with Fukuzawa. The moment he’d first woken up with bloodstained sheets when he was eleven years old, he’d known exactly what was happening and hated it, but the blood was the easy part to deal with. What wasn’t easy were the agonizing cramps that came with his periods; constant waves of pain that spread through his entire body, sapping his strength and his sanity. Aside from the dysphoria that always came along on that first day—because periods did nothing but remind him of what he was not—the issues surrounding his gender identity always faded into the background whenever the cramps came along. He was just in too much pain to focus on anything else at the time. And because he’d grown up in a small village with his parents, where his neighbours still insisted on calling him she, there wasn’t much to do but curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

But then his parents had died, and he’d left everything he’d ever known behind to go to Yokohama. What for, he wasn’t exactly sure, but all he knew was that a friend of his father’s resided in the big city and that was all he needed to know.

Going to Yokohama had been both the best and worst part of his life; the best because he could finally introduce himself as who he felt he truly was without anyone questioning him so long as he flattened his chest and wore masculine clothing, but also the worst because he no longer had easy access to the products that those of his birth gender needed whenever his periods came along. His only consolation was that the uniform of the police academy was black, and that the principal—the friend of his father—knew about his situation, so the man had been kind enough to supply him with what he needed, when he’d needed them.

But then he’d wound up on the streets after getting kicked out, and the next months were actual hell.

Ranpo had grown quite adept at sneaking down to the river in the early hours of the morning in order to wash his clothes whenever his period snuck up on him—he always tried his best to track it like he’d been taught to by his mother, but when you lived on the streets, you didn’t tend to remember what the date was. It also didn’t help that the stress of his living situation made it impossible to predict when it would even happen in the first place; most of the time, Ranpo would wake up with bloodstained thighs and stiff clothing, and that was how he knew his period had started. He’d also become pretty good at stealing, as much as it pained him to do so in the first place, but he really needed the supplies, so it wasn’t like he had any other choice. Not unless he wanted to bleed through his clothes every time. And it was simple, really; all he had to do was find a store filled with people, wander the aisles for a while, sneak what he needed into his satchel, wander about some more before finally leaving with his hands hanging by his side and a determined look.

It worked every time.

But he still felt like the worst person on earth when he had to do it.

And then he met Fukuzawa, and Ranpo found his entire world thrown into turmoil, with everything he thought he knew, tossed around like a tornado had just come through his mind. In less than a day, Fukuzawa had given him a roof over his head, as much food as he wanted, whenever he wanted, and also a job. But there’d been something else that he’d given Ranpo, something truly important; pure acceptance. Ranpo had almost panicked, when his period first made its appearance, and Fukuzawa had caught him in the dead of the night, washing bloodstained sheets in the bathtub. They had stared at each other for some time, but instead of scolding, or judging him, Fukuzawa had helped him wash his sheets, and told him to take a shower before disappearing for some time. He’d spent the entire time in the shower terrified and stressed, waiting to be accused of being a liar about who he truly was, or that he was a freak of nature, but none of that happened; Fukuzawa simply returned, placed a packet of pads on the bathroom counter, along with some painkillers, and then left like nothing had happened.

Ranpo had spent the rest of the night confused, and rightfully so, because no one in his life had ever just… accepted him as he was without asking questions.

Of course, the next day had brought about the most awkward conversation of Ranpo’s life, because he’d never been particularly comfortable about talking about himself, but… in the end it had turned out well. He and Fukuzawa had spoken at length about what Ranpo was going through, his identity, his feelings, the way his body was changing, all things that Ranpo knew, but also hadn’t, because his mother had taught him like he’d been a girl, and not the boy that he was. But then Fukuzawa had gone on to tell Ranpo about options he’d never heard of, and how to obtain some of those options. Ranpo had been stunned; it was one thing to put on masculine clothing and tell everyone he was a boy when his body physically told everyone he was not, but to learn that he could actually change that, actually become who it was that he wanted to be, and finally be comfortable in his own skin, it was hard not to be excited.

So, Fukuzawa had found a doctor for him—after many tears of relief and joy had been shed—one that had worked with people like Ranpo before and knew how to talk to him, and Ranpo’s transition begun. It had been a long and confusing process; there’d been a lot of things that Ranpo hadn’t known about or hadn’t quite understood, and there were also a lot of roadblocks and speedbumps that he’d needed to navigate around. Because he was underweight at the time, he’d needed to put on some weight before the doctor felt comfortable prescribing Ranpo any kind of medication, and that had been a battle, because Ranpo and food had never been friends, and there’d been many a night where he’d lain in Fukuzawa’s arms, crying, because he couldn’t finish the dinner that’d been cooked for him.

But he’d done it, the changes to his body brought about by puberty were slowed from the blockers he was allowed to take.

The next roadblock had been his chest, because he had to be an adult for anyone to even consider removing the two lumps of fat on his chest, and, well, Ranpo had naturally had a breakdown over it. It truly felt like the world had been against him in that moment, because so far, nothing had gone smoothly, and having his journey be delayed for years had been the final nail in the coffin. Sure, there were binders, and Fukuzawa had kindly bought him some after they’d been told the news, but it hadn’t stopped his mental health from crashing and sending him into depression.

He would forever be grateful to Fukuzawa, who had continued to love and support Ranpo, even in his darkest moments, throughout the years until he’d turned twenty and finally been allowed to pursue surgery.

And for the first time since he was a child, Ranpo finally felt that he could be himself.

“Nngh.” Ranpo groaned as he, once again, changed positions in the bed because of the agonizing pain that was rippling across his abdomen, just like it had been for the past hour. He’d gone to bed early that day, well before his usual time after feeling off for the entire day, only to wake up after a measly hour of sleep, with his body aching and his stomach metaphorically stabbing itself. It’d been so painful that all he could do was curl up into a ball and do his best not to disturb the other occupant of the bed. He’d long given up any attempt at getting anymore sleep; now he only wanted to find that one position that would bring him the relief he was after. But so far, he’d had no luck, and he was starting to give up on ever finding it.

One would think, after being on puberty blockers, and later, testosterone, for so many years, that he would finally be free from the jaws of periods and the god awful cramps that came with them, but no, he wasn’t that lucky it seemed. They didn’t happen often, usually only two or three times a year, and never for more than three days, but they always seemed to hurt so much more than he remembered; almost as if his body was mad that he had rejected it and changed it into what he wanted.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, Ranpo was in pain because his internal organs were currently attempting to murder him, and he wanted to do nothing but curl up into a ball and cry. Because pain and hormones. But he couldn’t, because he had an insomniac for a boyfriend that was currently in the bed with him, finally sleeping peacefully and Ranpo wasn’t going to be the reason that Poe didn’t get any sleep that night. He was amazed though, that he hadn’t woken Poe up yet since Poe was usually the worlds lightest sleeper—seriously, Ranpo had shut the door behind him once a little harder than normal and that had woken Poe up—but that was just further testament to how little Poe had been sleeping.

But yes, keeping still usually helped to ease the cramping, but this time it was doing nothing, and no amount of tossing and turning seemed to fix it.

At this point, the sun would rise before Ranpo could find a comfortable position.

He let out another groan as a wave of sharp, shooting pain washed over him, spreading from his abdomen out towards his back, his hips, and even his elbows—which really, should not be allowed in such a situation as this, because it was just so unfair—and he couldn’t stop himself from curling into a tight ball this time, a whimper escaping him before he could stop it, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

“Ranpo-kun?” Poe’s sleepy voice echoed through the night, and Ranpo froze where he lay, breathing slowly to try and convince his partner he was actually asleep. But then his emotions betrayed him and a quiet sob escaped him. He felt the bed dip as Poe shifted, and an arm came to drape itself over his waist, and Ranpo let out a relieved sigh, the heat of Poe’s skin against his own so, so welcome, and he didn’t want it to leave. He felt Poe bury his nose into the back of Ranpo’s neck. “What’s wrong?”

And even though he knew that Poe wouldn’t believe him, especially since the man had been worried when Ranpo had announced he was going to bed early, he was still going to try and placate Poe into trying to get some more sleep; his partner had had only a few hours of sleep over the last few days, and Ranpo refused to be the reason that Poe didn’t get a good night’s sleep. “I’m fine.”

He felt Poe frown against his skin. “Sorry, love, but I don’t believe you. You’ve been restless for some time now.”

“Oh… I didn’t—” Ranpo swallowed, stress stopping his words from coming. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Ranpo-kun. I’ve been on and off sleeping for a little bit now.” Poe soothed, kissing the back of Ranpo’s neck. Ranpo sighed and uncurled from his ball a little, slowly as to not aggravate his angry organs that had finally calmed down a little. He wanted to roll over so that he could talk to Poe face to face like he preferred, but he didn’t dare move, just in case it made things worse.

“Is everything alright, my dear?” Poe asked, and when Ranpo didn’t respond, he shuffled closer, slotting his legs between Ranpo’s own, and spreading his hand across his stomach in order to pull Ranpo close to him, and Ranpo could’ve cried from how nice it felt. The warmth of Poe’s palm was in just the right spot to chase away a little bit of the ache, and just the feeling of Poe holding him flush against his own skin was enough for Ranpo to be able to focus less on the pain, and more on other things—like Poe’s beating heart against his back. It was comfortable and it made him feel loved, and Ranpo never wanted it to end; he wished he could always be held like this by Poe, because it was just… perfect.

Ranpo closed his eyes, the vestiges of sleep that had eluded him for hours now, creeping back towards him and offering the sweet release of sleep, when he felt Poe stiffen, and that hand against his stomach stray in the direction of their legs and oh god, he’d forgotten about the bleeding part of periods. He stiffened, but for an entirely different reason, one that was familiar and unwanted; fear. He’d never told Poe about himself, had never needed to, and had most certainly never expected to. Until now.

“Ranpo-kun, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all that Ranpo said, his voice shaky as he croaked out the words, because what else could he say when he’d just bled all over himself and Poe’s sheets, and potentially Poe himself? Nothing, that’s what. All he could do was apologize and pray that Poe wouldn’t be mad at him. But he would understand if Poe was mad.

Poe sucked in a breath the moment Ranpo apologized, and he found the warmth fading as Poe pulled away and climbed out of bed, and Ranpo, forgetting about his pain momentarily, frantically reached out for Poe as he realized just what it was his partner was planning to do. But he wasn’t fast enough, and Ranpo quickly hid under the blankets as light bathed the room. Ranpo listened closely, as no sound came from Poe until his partner finally began to move about the room, even leaving it for a few minutes, and he had to wonder just what it was that his partner was doing. It didn’t take all that long for his curiosity to overcome his shame, and he poked his head out just as Poe sat on the bed again, and their eyes met.

“Oh.” Poe said, surprised; his eyes were visible for once, his bangs pinned to the side by a hairclip that Poe had clearly forgotten to remove before crawling into bed. The writer smiled—one of those gentle ones that promised comfort and kindness—and he held a box out towards Ranpo. A box of pads. Ranpo stared at the box for a moment, suddenly reminded of a time long ago when he’d been a teenager, before he took them. Poe stood and threaded his fingers through Ranpo’s messy hair, eyes just gazing upon him softly. “I got in the habit of keeping some on hand because of Lucy and Louisa.”

It was Ranpo’s turn to be surprised. “Oh.”

“I have some painkillers as well, and although I use them for migraines mostly, I think they’ll work for cramps, but I’ll double check the box just to make sure.” Poe continued to say as he began to tug the sheets free from Ranpo’s grasp. “I’ll get those for you, and change the sheets if you want to take a shower?”

It’s an out, and one that Ranpo was going to take, so he nodded and crawled out of bed, hunched over slightly as he raced to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. His eyes stung as he stripped, throwing his soiled clothing into the corner of the room and turned the shower on as hot as it would go—considering Poe was rich and could afford the best, it was hot—and then collapsed against the shower floor, sobbing into his knees, his emotions getting the better of him even though nothing bad had actually happened. Poe hadn’t judged him, hadn’t asked him questions, or even told him to leave; all Poe had done was help, and here Ranpo was, repaying him by crying on the floor of his shower.

Another reason he hated when this happened. He just became so damn emotional.

The door to the shower opened after a few minutes and Ranpo watched as Poe entered with a fresh pair of clothes in his arms. Poe himself, was wearing just a pair of boxers, and his hair was damp; he must’ve taken a quick shower in the other bathroom, and Ranpo was honestly tempted to ask his partner to join him, if only for the comfort it would bring. But he didn’t, and watched as Poe placed the clothes on the edge of the sink and left, the door clicking shut behind him, and leaving Ranpo alone. Yet, despite being on his own, Poe’s actions left Ranpo feeling loved, and his tears began to slow, but he didn’t get out of the shower until his skin was red and burning.

The clothes that Poe had lent him were his own, soft, and rich, but massive on Ranpo’s own frame, yet very much appreciated all the same. He always liked stealing Poe’s clothes whenever he was at the writer’s home, because Poe had an abundance of soft clothing he’d collected in his time with the Guild, clothing that Ranpo intended to put to good use. Underneath the clothes, a box of painkillers lay, and Ranpo took two before he left the bathroom and made his way back to bed where the old sheets had been replaced with new, fresh ones.

Poe didn’t say anything as his eyes looked over Ranpo, but his brow furrowed when he saw Ranpo’s red and puffy eyes. Poe lifted the blankets and patted the space next to him. “Come here.”

Ranpo didn’t hesitate to crawl underneath the covers, and began to tear up once again as Poe pulled him close, giving him all the warmth and comfort he could possibly want, in just a single embrace. “I’m sorry.” He apologized again, despite not knowing what it was that he was even trying to apologize for.

And as it seemed, neither could Poe. “Whatever for, love?”

Ranpo sniffed, and hid his face into Poe’s bare chest, even though he knew it would make it obvious that he was crying again—as if it wasn’t already obvious. It wasn’t like he was a silent crier. “I don’t know. Bleeding all over everything? Lying to you? Waking you up?”

Poe hummed, and tucked Ranpo’s head under his chin, a hand slowly running itself up and down Ranpo’s back. “You don’t need to apologize for those. Sheets can be washed after all. You never lied to me—”

“I did.”

“You did not.” Poe’s other hand moved to grab at Ranpo’s, giving it a squeeze. “And as for my sleep, well, I’ve never slept particularly well, love. You know that. If anything, sleeping with you helps me sleep better.”

“I don’t understand.” Ranpo hunched in on himself as best he could with Poe’s arms around him, tears running down his cheeks. “How can you just… accept this?”

Poe hummed again, and a thumb wiped away the tears on his face. “I think this is a conversation best had when you aren’t feeling so overwhelmed, my dear. But if it helps you feel even the tiniest bit better, why wouldn’t I accept it? I love you for you, Ranpo-kun, and that’s that. Even if you bleed and cry from the cramps, I still love you.”

Those words caused Ranpo to cry even more, although he’s smiling now, and through his tears, he can hear Poe starting to sniff, and he can feel a few tears drip onto his head. He laughed through his own tears. “Why are you crying.”

“Because you are hurting right now, in more ways than one, and I tend to cry when you hurt and all I can do is hold you through it. It’s a fault of mine.” Poe chuckled, raising a hand to wipe away his own tears this time.

Ranpo laughed again, and brought one of his own hands up to cup Poe’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear. “Thank you, Poe-kun, for helping and accepting.”

“Always, Ranpo-kun, always.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edogawa ranpo #edgar allan poe #trans ranpo #hurt/comfort #comfort #writing #fanfiction

15 notes · View notes