#the goldfinch fanfiction

[froggywritesstuff]

yandere!boris pavlikovsky hc's

ship/pairing: yandere!boris pavlikovsky x g/n!reader

fandom: the Goldfinch

request: @racheldreamsworld: Can you do a yandere boris Pavlikovsky from movie goldfinch headcanon?

warnings: yandere, unhealthy and toxic relationships, obsessive behaviour, stalking, mentions of cigarettes, pressuring into to doing drugs, emotional blackmail, mentions of addiction, mentions of suicide, guilt tripping, non consensual touching (not explicitly sexual), there's a lot going on so please let me know if I've missed any warnings

word count: 460

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

as soon as he saw you, he immediately became obsessed with you

though near the beginning of his obsession, he tries to be quiet about it

he follows you wherever you go

if you're eating lunch, he's sitting beside you

he walks you to your classes, silently bidding you farewell

when you ask him what his deal is, he nonchalantly introduces himself and claims to be your friend

he does not care how he gets it but he needs your attention

so he is definitely satisfied when you just stare at him with a confused expression and try to distance yourself from him while he walks beside you on your way home

speaking of which, once he finds your address, nothing is stopping him from stalking you

you're relieved when you find him not at school some days, unaware that he skips school to go to your house and look through all your things

you don't question it when you come home to one of two of your shirts on the floor, thinking it's because you were in a rush that morning

you are a little weirded out when said shirts and your pillow have a slight scent of cigarettes and something else you can't put your finger on

eventually you grow more and more paranoid as you find more and more things out of place or missing from your room

when you gather some courage, and ask Boris why he's so adamant on following you everywhere, you're more than surprised when he asks to be your boyfriend (though the way he words it makes you feel like you don't have a choice)

will threaten to kill himself if you try to reject him

like no hesitation, he thinks it's the only logical response

he guilt trips you a lot of the time 

you can't talk or hang out with your friends without hearing Boris getting pissed at you, mumbling about how you'll leave him, just like everyone else does

he’s always inviting you over to his house

meaning if you don't want an earful about how bad of a partner you're being by not wanting to spend time with your boyfriend, you hang out at his house a lot

he pressures you to try some of the drugs he has

he wants to get you addicted so you'll want to go to his house more and he can keep you from everyone else

and sometimes when he gets you high, you're much calmer around him, and he can be way more touchy with you, so that's always a plus

acts like you're the cure to all his problems when in reality his coping mechanisms and the way he acts around you are the cause of his deteriorating mental health

#boris pavlikovsky fanfiction #boris pavlikovsky the goldfinch #boris pavlikovsky one shot #boris pavlikovsky x reader #boris pavlikovsky #yandere boris pavlikovsky #fanfiction #yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #tw yandere #x reader #yandere male #male yandere #the goldfinch #the goldfinch fanfiction #yandere boris pavlikovsky x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere headcanons #boris pavlikovsky x gender neutral reader #boris pavlikovsky headcanons #male reader #froggywritesstuff

[zebonifer]

Guess who finished writing Two Men In Love??

THIS GUY!!!

Please send thoughts and prayers, the most helpful kind of medicine… >.>… that I find time for editing tomorrow!

So uh… the final chapter… coming soon?

#two men in love #fanfic update #tgf #the goldfinch fanfiction #so tired

[often-begin]

#writing prompt #gdragon #relatable memes #amicizia #burlesque #art inspiration #roman reigns #that 70's show #gal gadot #the goldfinch #fragmentos #female poets #streaming #bucky barnes fanfiction #saiki kusuo

[themselves-two-ten-environment]

#kakasaku #视频 #art inspiration #roman reigns #that 70's show #gal gadot #the goldfinch #fragmentos #female poets #streaming #bucky barnes fanfiction

[ittybluebell]

Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Next

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

Next

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc) #matt murdock #daredevil g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #g/t community #gt #g/t writing #daredevil #marvel g/t #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

[froggywritesstuff]

safe | boris pavlikovsky

Pairing: Boris Pavlikovsky x aromantic!g/n!reader (platonic)

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, underage smoking, cigarettes, alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of arophobia, parental issues

Fandom: The Goldfinch

Request: no

A/N: this made more sense in my head. and i definitely didn't write this in under half an hour

Boris sighed as he took a long puff from the cigarette in his hands, nothing to do but watch you pace and pace around the room.

”It’s fucking messed up, Boris. Why can’t people just accept who I am? Why do I have to pretend to be someone else just so I don’t piss off someone else. Arophobia is fucking stupid.” you ranted, barely feeling the pain going through your legs as you walked.

Boris tilted his head to the side, “Are you sure that’s the right word for arophobia? Isn’t that fear of planes?”

You squinted at your intoxicated friend, “That’s aerophobia dipshit.”

Boris blinked at you, his face blank, “That’s the exact- you just said the exact same thing!”

You rolled your eyes, “Really? That’s your takeaway?”

”Y/N, I’m sorry, that’s all I can say. Your family is a piece of shit and so is anyone else who tells you you’re wrong for being who you are. So, you can keep ranting, or you can get almost as drunk as me.” he suggested, earning another eye roll from you.

”Of course your advice is to just get drunk.” you mumbled, shuffling to the bed where Boris was sitting, taking the bottle from his hands.

He furrowed his brows together, “Oh sure, take my alcohol, I give away for free now.”

You rolled your eyes at him, taking a sip from the bottle, “Calm down,” you said, ignoring the glare you received, “You’ve got stashes in every draw and cabinet in this house.” you argued, taking advantage of your best friends distracted state and taking the cigarette from his mouth and using it as your own.

A look of shock and betrayal flashed on Boris’s face, “Wha- really Y/N? What happened to your stash?”

You shrugged, leaning your head against the wall, “Me and my stash aren’t talking anymore.”

“Yeah, if I was your stash I wouldn’t wanna talk either.” Boris scoffed, earning a glare from you.

Rolling your eyes, you took the cigarette from your lips as you took a sip of the bottle, “You’re talking to me right now,”

Boris took the cigarette back from your hands, “I’m not your stash. And you’re my only friend.”

“I better be.” you said with a yawn as you felt Boris leaning his head against your shoulder.

”Your parents took it away. Didn’t they?” 

Sometimes you hated being best friends with Boris. Hated how he always knew what you weren’t saying. Hated how he always knew what was really going on.

You just sighed, Boris accepting that as an answer. 

You weren’t exactly best friends with your parents at the moment. After coming out as aromantic -something they didn’t understand nor did they want to understand- you felt like everyone in your house hated you. And once your parents found the collection of cigarettes under your bed, they were considering kicking you out. The only place you found safe was wherever Boris was. Which was ironic, considering at your first sleepover together, you both nearly passed out. Still, whether he was shoplifting from grocery stores or taking pills he definitely shouldn’t take, he was your best friend. He made you feel safe.

Boris let his eyes slowly shut as he mumbled, “If you don’t wanna go back there you can stay here as long as you need. My father shouldn’t be back for at least a week.”

A smile grew on your lips as you began to shut your eyes as well.

He really knew how to make you feel safe.

buy me a coffee <3

#boris pavlikovsky #boris pavlikovsky x reader #the goldfinch #tgf #boris pavlikovsky x gender neutral reader #boris pavlikovsky x aromantic reader #aromantic #aroace #aromantic reader #boris pavlikovsky fanfiction #the goldfinch fanfiction #boris pavlikovsky one shot #tgf fanfiction #boris pavlikovsky the goldfinch #boris pavlikovsky tgf #finn wolfhard #fanfiction #aromantic fanfiction #platonic x reader #froggywritesstuff

[froggywritesstuff]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐯𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲

Safe | Boris Pavlikovsky x aromantic!g/n!reader (platonic)

Yandere!Boris Pavlikovsky x g/n!reader

don't hesitate to request any character/ship you'd like :)

DO NOT PLAGARISE, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM

#the goldfinch fanfiction #the goldfinch #Boris pavlikovsky #boris pavlikovsky fanfiction #tgf #yandere

[ittybluebell]

The Glue Trap (daredevil g/t)

Finch is stuck in a glue trap that Matt forgot about. He rushes to save them.

Tiny was silent.

It wasn't uncommon - there was the odd time they went down to another apartment, a result of Matt lacking in the goods department.

Suspicious, Matt did another sweep. No, he found. Tiny was still here. They were… quiet. Not moving. Somewhere under the stairs to the roof. Their heartrate was elevated. Their breaths were quick, stuttering, with an undercurrent of sniffles. They sounded all too much like someone Matt wouldn't second guess saving out on the street.

Tiny grunted under strain. There was a strange sound under their feet, like mud.

Matt jolted as if electrocuted. He forgot a trap.

What followed was Matt lunging for the loose floorboard. He tried to estimate how long they'd been stuck. Since he left this morning? The pungent scent of glue wisped into the air and guilt twisted inside him. How could he forget? Were there others? How long had Tiny been there?

There was still food in their stomach. The smell of strawberry and wheat cracker was fresh on their breath. Matt felt a tinge of relief, replaced by guilt again - not nearly as long as he'd feared, but any length of time was too long.

Tiny's reaction was one of their squeak-yelps and a subsequent stabbing.

Matt hissed, "Ow," and flinched back when something sharp stung his finger. Tiny made another motion to defend themself and Matt withdrew his arm. "Y'know, most people don't attack the person trying to save them," he said, mildly put out. He understood he was an actual, literal giant here, but give him some credit.

Alright, so he should have announced his intentions first - that was on him.

Matt said, "I don't want to hurt you. I'm trying to help."

"The hell you are!" Tiny bellowed with all the ferocity contained in their little body. It was an unexpectedly Herculean amount. "Who set the traps in the first place, huh? Then you come in tryin' to snatch me up like a damn claw machine. 'Help' my ass!"

"I'm trying to help. I'm sorry about the traps - really, I am. I thought I got all of them out. I'm truly sorry. Will you let me fix this? Without stabbing me again? Please?"

A contemplative silence fell over the two. It was only respectful to ask: as someone who'd been stabbed and shot and hit more times than he could remember, Matt could handle a poke or two. But he didn't like being grabbed without his consent - why would someone who's just a few inches tall?

What even was that weapon, a nail?

…he should update his vaccines.

"You don't plan to lock me up and reveal me to the world for fame and wealth or ship me off to scientists that'll experiment on me?" Tiny asked suspiciously.

That was… shockingly specific. And all completely valid concerns. "No."

"Liar."

"I'm not. In God's name, I swear I'm not lying. Would I be trying to gain your trust if that was my goal? Why would I bother?"

"I guess… you just don't want me to stab you again."

"Oh, for- I owe Foggy several apologies if this is what he deals with."

Tiny agreed to let him help after admitting they were prepared to die anyway - ouch - and that being captured by a 'bean' - what? - really couldn't be worse. A win was a win and Matt didn't argue, reaching under the floorboards to rescue them.

It was a surreal experience for both parties. Feeling a tiny, human body fit in his hand, and for Finch, a massive hand wrapping around them. They were stiff as a board, bracing against fingers as wide as their torso. For every borrower, this was the worst case. This was the nightmare that made children hide under the covers. A human had discovered them - was holding them. Finch resisted the urge to bite and scrap and do anything in their limited power to free themself. A second hand pressed down on the edges of the trap and then Finch was being pried off. The glue was reluctant to let them go and threatened to claim their boots as a prize. Finch squawked and fought to keep them.

"Shit," Finch blurted. "Oh, sewers. Fuck me running. Mother of termites. Pissberry."

The glue released. Matt lifted both borrower and trap out of the floor and rose from his prone position.

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc) #matt murdock #daredevil g/t #daredevil #marvel g/t #sfw g/t #fanfiction #g/t writing #g/t community #borrowers #gt #writing

[butterflysonnets]

sometimes a family is two queer traumatised substance-abusing teenage boys and their little gay dog

#the goldfinch #boreo #fuck it i'm not tagging anything else the real ones will find this #anyway guess whos reconsuming the goldfinch in all 2 (two) of its forms #i said this old hyperfixation would come back and i was right!! #i need to be chemically restrained #hi to the three people still hanging out in the boreo fandom this is for you i love you #and btw they become two men in love recovering from trauma and crime and drugs and they live together in nyc with their old gay dog :) #because i said so :) #i should write a fanfiction #eve text #eve's great tgf rehyperfixation

[weirdgirlification]

like not only is theo “not gay” he also looks down on boris for not being as cultured as him and being involved in illegal activities (hypocritical i know bc theo is also involved in illegal activities. but his are like old money rich illegal activities so it’s different at least in his mind). he’s spent his whole adulthood in these circles of wealthy elite new yorkers who have extensive knowledge of art and furniture and other such things. look at how concerned he is with mrs barbour’s opinion… he got engaged primarily in order to become part of her family and therefore the cultured elite… he is not going to drop all that to be in a gay relationship with some new money wealth sketchy guy without having at least a little conflict about it lol. he is very much a snob about such things

#the goldfinch #not saying a fanfiction that property gets into this could not be done #would just have to be very long and have a lot of self reflection before the happy couple stuff people seem to like

[i-promise-i-am-not-on-drugs]

Yes I'm taking about the Goldfinch. (Boreo actually but shh)

Here's a link to watch the movie (I found it on twitch, it's free and shouldn't be legal if you worry about that sort of stuff):

If you write fanfiction, please watch it. The fandom is hungry, the fandom needs food. (I fucking beg you, please feed me *🥹*)

#the goldfinch #theodore decker #boris pavlikovsky #boreo #fanfiction #film #twitch #archives of our own #finn wolfhard #i'm not even joking #the fandom need content pls #help me realive it 🥹

[usbotthrills]

It only felt natural for Boris and I to have such intimacy. From the second I met him I felt as though I could tell him those thoughts at the back of my head, the ones I vowed to keep there. We’d told each other the contents of our hearts, the every word that crossed our minds, until we felt as though we were one soul. We were no longer he and I. We were us.

There was just that nature about him, that’d he’d listen to me, that he’d understand. But that wasn’t it. We just fit perfectly together. Like cogs in a clock, it only made sense for us to be together.

Not it that way.

Maybe in that way.

Perhaps it was just natural for our friendship to develop into something more, perhaps it was always meant to happen. Fate had brought us together, into this deserted little town. Against all odds, even though neither of us expected to be here, we were together. Together physically, together mentally.

The only thing I’d failed to tell him was the extremity of love I felt for him. For every whispered secret I’d uttered, every confession shared, I’d never been able to speak those three simple words.

I love you

And, god, did I love him. The ways his eyes sparked when he talked about something he was passionate about. The small conspiratorial smile he’d give me when we stole anything. The curl of his hair around his face, framing it like the artwork he was. The way he was so clever, that he seemed to just understand the complex meaning of those novels he read. The way he could make me smile, no matter how I was feeling. Fuck, I really did love him.

I needed to tell him. In some way, I felt as though he knew, as though he was just waiting for me to say those daunting three words. After all, the intimacy we held wasn’t mistakable for platonic. Those nights we shared together, with passion and sweat and lust weren’t mistakable for platonic.

The moment to confess revealed itself as we laid together next to the pool, staring at the infinite stars. Staying quiet, we traced each one with our eyes, until I turned to him. He was staring right back at me.

Softly he whispered out to me.

“Tell me a secret.”

I could hear him perfectly, his face was so close to mine. I yearned to press my lips into his, to confess to him the intricacies of my heart. I took a breath, feeling relieved at the coolness of the air. It only felt natural for Boris and I to have such intimacy. And so it only felt natural to breath out those three words in the dark, where only he knew.

“I love you.”

#and so what if I was just talking about the love I have for my partner whilst writing this #being in love means I can write fanfictions based off of him OKAY #(I love you Roma <3333) #Boreo #boris pavlikovsky #Theo decker #Theodore decker #the goldfinch #tgf #Donna Tartt #tgf boreo

[itscoronatyime]

Okay so im working on a fanfiction which is a crossover of Stranger things, IT, and The Goldfinch. The plot is basically, Child protective services finally decide to do something about boris's situation with his dad. Since he has no other immediate (or willing) family members his only option is his mother's (half) sister Karen. Karen hasn't seen or spoken to any of her (half) sisters since the funeral so she feels it's only right to take in her late sister's boy right? In fact she'll call up Maggie and arrange a reunion! Its about time for Mike and Nancy to get to know their cousins. So that's exactly what she did. And so, this is how Mike ended up spending his summer fighting with TWO supernatural demons instead of 1 while suffering through his difficult relationships with his cousins.

This is all I got so far ! I have planned ships already which are: Boreo, Polyamorous losers club (they're REAL AND CANON IDC IDC), byler +more to come

(Also they're all cousins because their moms have the same dad. Maggie and Boris's mom went with their dads so yeah )

Please let me know what you think :D !

#the goldfinch #stranger things #stephen king #Ben hanscom #beverly marsh #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #stan uris #mike hanlon #mike wheeler #will byers #Polyamorous losers club #poly losers club #byler #Fanfiction #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #let me know #it stephen king #boreo #it chapter two

[frothingbeerbottles]

Oh yeah btw I make fan-fiction too, I really like it and it’s one of my favourite pastimes!

Here’s my account, be warned there’s a few abandoned tgf fics that I cannot be bothered to update because I’m terrible at long stories if they’re not completely thought out!

I have also done a little oneshot of an au that’s in the making with me and oomf so if you’re interested in a Gotham au/rewrite I’d recommend reading that! There is a lot of DID and cluster b rep in it so I hope you guys will enjoy when the chapters start to come out!

#the goldfinch #gotham #gotham fox #fanfic writing #fanfiction #i love you nygma system #that reminds me that we don’t have a system name help

[cyclopstism]

goldfinchers come get ur juice

#the goldfinch #tgf #boreo #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #fanfiction #zoë.txt

[lovecatswilltearusapartagain]

oh my fucking god ok HEAR ME OUT

a goldfinch/boreo ballet au….

boris gets a scholarship that allows him to travel from russia/ukraine/mars to new york and train there. and theo doesnt like him at first because hes upset about being overtaken (hes the best in the class of course) but obv gets a huge crush on boris and idk. i just think about ballet a lot.

#i MIGHT write this #the goldfinch #boris pavlikovsky #theo decker #boreo #theodore decker #tgf #donna tartt #boris and theo #tgf boris #tgf theo #theo x boris #boris x theo #ballet #fanfiction #au