#reader x faust

A cursory knock on the door before I let myself in as quietly as possible, his back to me as he worked at his desk, books scattered everywhere, surprisingly more disorganised than yesterday confirming my fear that he probably didn’t sleep. It was my fault and the paltry dinner balanced on the tray in my hands was no where near enough to apologise. I set the tray down on a table and moved closer to him, he may not have acknowledged my entrance but I knew he knew I was here so quietly as a cat I moved closer to him until I could wrap my arms around him from behind, his scent and warmth filling my senses, always making my heart flutter even when I felt guilty as sin. I could feel his body stiffen under my touch which hurt, his breath hitched as he waited for me to make the first move.

“Johan, can we talk?” my quiet voice said into his back. The tenseness indicating that he was still upset, which he had every right to be. He’d been a wonderful partner during the worst of my flare up, no matter how much I cried in pain, frustration he held me close. Comforted me in his own way, was there to rub sore stiff muscles and help manage my pain only to me met with the sharpest side of my tongue. He didn’t respond, only he steady breathe filling the gap where I wanted his voice to be “Johan, please. I’m sorry” I pleaded while gripping him tighter, finally feeling him starting to relax under my touch, a deep sigh preceding his answer “Yes” he said, his voice softer than usual as he turned in my arms and pulled me into his chest. I relished being in his arms, now more than ever as I gently cupped his cheek and raised my eyes to his “Johan, I’m sorry. It was wrong to talk to you like that, to yell at you like that, it was cruel and there aren’t words to convey how sorry I am. I love you so much, but it wasn’t right to lash out at you” my voice was trembling as I tried to get across how sorry I was, how much I regretted hurting him. It was his forehead pressing to mine, the quiet intimacy of being like this that made the tears I’d been holding back finally fall as he held me close to his chest; his hands rubbing gentle circles over my back. ”Perhaps my bluntness was unwarranted, however I did not appreciate being on the end of your ire….but I forgive you. I just wanted to understand why you chose to go get tattooed when you’ve been so ill. It’s not a logical decision no matter how much I try to figure it out. Why seek out more pain?” his voice was soft, still seeking out an answer but trying not to fall into last nights trap. It’s an answer I’d been formulating all day, but now with his scent in my nose and my guard was down all my well practiced words fell out of my head.

He didn’t push, sat down on the armchair and pulled me into his lap, giving me the space to formulate my answer, careful not to put pressure on my newly inked hip and flank.

“Pain is a constant for me, it’s a daily frustration, it’s debilitating. So, you are correct it’s not a logical course of action. However, getting tattooed is pain. But it’s a pain that I get to choose, that I get something from” his eyes never left mine as I explained “It hurts, but unlike fibro pain it gives me something that makes me feel like I have some semblance of control over my body. Being able to make it something I find more pleasing, more…myself. It makes me feel, even on my worse days a more confident and beautiful version of myself. It’s a comfort when the pain I have no control over flares, it reminds me of who I am when I feel like nothing” the words were clumsy, but they finally came and it felt cathartic saying it out loud, but there was still a fear that he wouldn’t understand.

“Your body is beautiful to me no matter the decoration, I have no problem with your unadorned flesh” he said cupping my cheek and holding me in his hazel gaze.

“I understand that, but it’s not about how you see me. It’s about how I see myself, how I want to be seen, how I want to feel about myself. I don’t mean to make that sound like you don’t matter, but it’s still the skin I have to inhabit” I kept my tone even trying not to sound harsh.

He sat quietly for the moment processing what I said, thankfully he didn’t look hurt or offended finally saying “It’s not a position I’d considered, but there is a logic there and I understand what you’re trying to say. I’m not offended” he concluded by kissing me on the tip of my nose and wrapping his arms around me tighter. His response made a knot in my stomach loosen, and my body finally fully relaxed into his arms. Johan took that as the cue to finally kiss me deeply, more comforting that intending to seduce and it felt like the storm had finally passed.

“May I see?” his voice came after a little while being cuddled up in the wingback and shaking the stiffness from my body I obliged his curiosity by getting up and standing in front of him to show the tapestry of motifs stretching down my side. His eye scanned the newly decorated skin, despite it’s grazed and weeping condition, the designs were strong black like medieval woodcuts. His breath caught at one particular point, the point in the design where he found a little tribute to him