#I just meant to do a blurb to go along with the moodboard I guess it's a long blurb

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Broken Ornaments

For @thatesqcrush​’s Holiday Bingo! Moodboard + ficlet 

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Warnings: Post season 3 injuries, past child sexual abuse mention, angst

500 words

Dr. Chilton never had a surgeon’s hands—in all your time together he’d never admitted it to you, but you heard a rumor that he switched to psychiatry in disgrace after a patient died on the table. It didn’t surprise you. For all his arrogant bluster, you knew your Frederick was a soft, nervous creature deep down. His hands probably used to tremble at the sight of blood.

Now his hands trembled all the time without needing a reason. After surviving severe burns, they didn’t work the way they used to.

His mother scolded him for nearly dropping an old box of Christmas decorations when she’d handed it to him two days ago—a gift for his home, to carry on the tradition now that she was getting too old.

Tradition. You wondered what that meant for the Chiltons. 

Frederick’s relationship with his family was strained, and he rarely told you anything about them. He was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive home.

Festive music and cinnamon filled the cavernous halls of the ostentatious mansion you shared, but Frederick was sullen as he took delicate red and white ornaments out of the box and arranged them on the tree. It was a slow process with scarred skin wrapping his fingers too tightly for them to move quite right, and with the last joint amputated off several of them. Considering he had been doused in gasoline and left to burn, it was lucky he was alive at all, much less able to walk and decorate trees by the very next Christmas, but it was still frustrating for him to be trapped in a body that didn’t cooperate.

He swore as an antique glass bauble shattered on the floor, spraying its red guts in a spatter-pattern over the hardwood.

“That’s OK, let me get it!” you said, not wanting him to attempt cleaning up sharp shards himself. At least you were both wearing shoes. A long, agonizing sigh rattled from Frederick’s lungs.

“These belonged to my grandfather.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. Maybe we can glue it back together.”

He shook his head.

“Really—I’ve got dexterous hands and I’m good at puzzles. I can fix it.”

“No. He was a fucking bastard. Groped me when I five years old then gave me candy to shut me up. I hate these ornaments.”

You looked at the one in your hand, and back at Frederick. You let it fall, and it exploded into glitter.

He stared back at you in stunned silence, as if he had never considered that one could simply do that. He picked up another one and dropped it.

One by one, you took turns plucking ornaments off the tree like apples and smashing them on the ground, crunching them under your shoes. It would hurt later, when, fingers bleeding, you had to pick up the pieces. But right now, turning each cursed memory into festive dust on the ground was becoming a new favorite holiday tradition.

@beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921

[blissfulparker]

Tattooed heart—T.H

parings: tattoo Artist!Tom x innocent!reader

warnings: sexual themes, fluff, tension

summary: you wanna prove to your friends that the innocent girl can be bad too. so what not a better way to get a tattoo, especially one in a more promiscuous place? what better way to do it by then the cute badboy tattoo artist who loves to flirt?

A/N: I do not plan on making a part two but I am willing to do blurbs about tattoo artist!tom or maybe a different fic like this one but about meeting the parents or whatnot or the reader getting a tattoo without tom knowing. let me know what you guys think!!!! also thank you to my best friend @thollandss​ for this amazing moodboard!!!

“It only pinches.”

“Mine took like two seconds!”

“It would look cute!”

All words said by your friends about their own tattoos and how you should get one. You never really thought about them until you watched your friends get some, you skipped the matching tattoo idea and just watched. Even though the tattoo artist was cute and tried really hard for you to get one.

So you started to look, look for ideas. In your head, tattoos were meaningful. Tattoos were supposed to be something that would mean something in the long run like a family name or a symbol of something that brought you happiness. And that’s what you wanted, something sweet and meaningful.

The other thing you had to think of was your parents, they were somewhat strict even if you were reaching your twenties. Tattoos were always forbidden along with drinking, smoking, not going to college, and plenty of other rules to keep you the ‘perfect child’. So if you were going to get a tattoo it was to keep it hidden. 

After weeks of hunting and thinking, you found one. A small heart right under the girls boob. It looked painful, but it was cute and something you could hide—unlike your friends who had theirs on their wrists or somewhere visible.

You worried maybe it was too much, a stupid idea to get a heart. Maybe you should think it over some more and get something better, something more meaningful. But a heart was innocent, very simple and innocent.

-

The neon sign lights up nearly half of the street. It was stupid to do this on your own, maybe you should’ve gone with a friend but you also wanted it to be a surprise. Proving the innocent girl could be bad sometimes too.

“You’re back!” The British voice comes closer to the front. You’re nervous, how could you not be? it’s your first tattoo and the last time you were poked with a needle was for a flu shot.

“I guess I am.” You put your hands in your pockets out of nerves. Scared of the buzzing in the other rooms.

“Where’s Maggie?” He asked for your friend, the girl that knew him in the first place and dragged you all here. She worked for tom for about a year before quitting and going somewhere else.

“I-Uh no maggie, just me if that’s okay?” You ask fully willing to leave if he wanted you to.

“Just you?” He looks at you confused and you nod. Then he notices how nervous you are and grows a smirk. A soft sly smirk that was powerful.

“Yup.” You swallow hard. “I saw this,” you fumble with your phone and open the photos to show him the heart. “And I wanted to get it.” You didn’t know how to properly ask for a tattoo, were you supposed to print it? Were you supposed to email it? Make an appointment?

He holds the phone closer to his face and sees the heart. His mouth drops a little when he sees where it’s located.

“Same location and everything?” It’s not meant sexually, he’s dealt with piercing nipples, but you were a little different to him.

“Yes.” You bite down on your lip nervous. He nods as he writes down your name and gets you ready.

“Never took you as the girl to get a tattoo.” He says as he pulls a contract out. “I just need you to sign.” He pushes it over and you give a confused look. “To prove to me you’re not drunk doing this.”

You sigh away willingly knowing everything it says because of last time. You swallow hard once again as you follow tom into one of the back rooms to get set up.

“You want music or no?” He asks and you nod. He turns up the radio and gets his gloves on and starts to set things up. You lay on the bench and get yourself comfortable, or at least try to.

“Does it hurt?” You ask the most basic question and tom laughs.

“Depends sweet pea, you hate needles?” He asks back and you shrug. “Then a little. But tell me when to stop and I’ll kiss it away.” He plays off with a wink as he teases.

Tom was a flirt, the biggest one you knew. He was just that type of person but you didn’t take it personally ever. But something was different about him tonight, his personality was different.

“Go ahead and lift up your shirt.” He moves to get ink ready and when he turns back your shirt is all the way off, you’re left in a black bra and an innocent look. “Y-You didn’t have to take it off all the way.” He clears his throat. “But it always helps.” He gains back his confidence and gets the needle out. He sees you tense up and he places a hand on your arm.

“Hey,” he looks at you sincerely. “Relax, tell me if it’s too much, we can take a break okay?” He reminds you and you nodded.

“Can I hold onto you?” You ask him. Normally the answer would be no, he didn’t know his Patients that well and plus it could hurt more if you tensed. But he wanted you to hold onto him.

“Of course.” He turns on the gun after he’s got the picture on you. Your grip gets tighter as he places the first mark on you.

You flinch a little, but soon you start to accept the pain. Realizing you can trust tom with what he’s doing.

“Do we need a break?” He asks and you shake your head wanting the pain to just be completely done.

“No,” you tell him still holding on. “Did you do your own tattoos?” You ask him seeing all the different ones he had. He apparently had more on his chest but those were just Maggie’s words.

“Only the ones I could reach.” He focused. “But other than that no, I’ve had them done by other people.” He doesn’t realize he places his hand on your boob to move it up slightly, push the breast out of his way but feel it in his hands. “Sorry.” He speaks as he still focuses.

“Did Maggie ever…” you ask about your friend who spent late nights here with tom all the time, so you let your mind wander—and almost get jealous—of all the things done here.

“Have sex with me? No.” He states bluntly and you heat up. he’s nearly finished, the tattoo was small and simple without much detail.

“I meant give you a tattoo…” you bite your lip and he looks up this time red.

“Sorry, sorry!” He feels like an idiot for what he just said about probably one of your best friends. “Yes, Once, it’s one on my leg. It was just for practice though. I got it removed almost a year ago because I didn’t really like it.” He says. “Sorry about that by the way, it’s just Maggie…”

“Likes to spread rumors I know. She told me she was drunk and you two hooked up but that’s none of my business.” You feel a form of anger in your stomach, maybe jealousy? You didn’t know.

“It’s not true, I’m not really into girls like Maggie.” He admits. Girls who were wild, outrageous, liked tattoos and parties he was not into? That confused you.

“Are you almost done?” You ask realizing how tight your grip is and how red the skin is.

“Why babydoll we need a break?” He looks up concerned and you shake your head ‘no’. “We’re almost finished, hang in there.”

“Why do you like tattoos a lot?” You asked trying to get to know him outside of the party life he showed himself. You’ve only met him in those ways, parties, tattoos, never really knew his other interests.

“I kinda just like art, my mother passed away when I was young and so my first tattoo was dedicated to her. Then I just went from there.” He tells and you give him a sad look.

“I’m so sorry.” You apologize and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be, its not your fault.” He didn’t mind talking about it, he was just sick of people being sorry. “And….done.” He removes the gun. You realize it wasn’t that long, maybe only 30 minutes that felt like eternity.

He helps you up and helps you over to the mirror. You look at the small heart and realize how pretty it is, how it’s perfect. He smiles at his work and then smiles looking at you.

“Do you like it?” He asks and you nod biting your lip.

“I love it! Thank you so much tom.” You turn around to him with an excited look. You wanna hug him but you know that would be awkward.

“No need for me to kiss away the pain?” He teases once again and you feel yourself heat up. Maybe the tattoo was giving you confidence, maybe it was making you rebel in your head.

“I mean it still kind of hurts.” You watch him smirk a little as he grabs a few more things to patch it up.

He comes closer to you again and watches you lift up your breast again so he can patch it up. He’s close, dangerously close. His body almost press against yours and maybe you want to take the step to kiss him but that would be wrong.

“Does mommy and daddy know you got this?” He teases a little remembering last time how you were here saying you couldn’t get a tattoo because your parents will kill you.

“No.” You feel small again. He’s making himself feel bigger and you feel smaller and you didn’t know if you liked it or not.

“Hmph.” He hums as he patches it up. “Naughty girl.” He teases some more and then is done.

He makes sure it’s nice and secured before looking at you with dark eyes. “Still need me to kiss away that pain princess?” He says more seriously and he can’t move or speak. It’s like he’s got you in a trap and you’re stuck.

He doesn’t say anything else, just moves back from you and hands you your sweater.

You’re quiet as he walks you out, almost no words spoke but the tension was so loud. He got you to the front and you got out your wallet.

“65.07.” He tells you and you hand him your card. It’s quiet as he does he exchange and then hands it back to you with your Receipt.

The receipt has a number scribbled on the bottom, his number for you to call. You don’t even know what you’d say but you wanted to text him for sure. Definitely wanted to see him for sure even if it’d shock your friends and make your parents mad. Something about him excited you.

He hands you a care book knowing you’d probably read it very carefully so he didn’t take the time to explain it. He gave you one more look before he you were ready to go.

“Thank you again, Goodnight tom.” You wave as you leave.

“Goodnight peach.” He watches you leave.

As you get out back into your car you sigh in relief. You can still see the inside of shop and how he’s going to the back once again. You pull out your phone and type in the number hesitating if you should text so soon. You don’t even know what you’d say if he answered.

So, will the next time we meet be over tattoos again?

You send with a feeling of nerves throughout your body. You throw your phone in the seat next to you and pull out of the driveway.

Only if you want that peach, I was thinking more a beer but I’m not sure if you’re into that

You see the notification and feel yourself heat up knowing that wasn’t the last time you’d see Tom. And maybe that wouldn't be the last time his hands were on your body.