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I mainly write + daughter! stories
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how does matilda or clara feel about the twitter/azaliea/matty nonsence?
ooooooooooo good question anon
(I'm going for Clara here cuz I love writing for her)
Although she's technically 13 and Gabi says she's too young for Twitter (or X idk I still call it Twitter) She definitely has a secret account that her Mom or Matty don't know about and can see everythingggg going on.
She thinks it's sweet that he was defending her Mom. There isn't another boyfriend that she had that comes to mind when she thinks of who else would do the same thing. Only Matty.
She's really confused with why she starts coming for Charli and calling her ugly in the first place? She isn't one to pick fights or comment mean things on the internet at all, but she still agrees with most things being said in Charli's defense.
Matty and Gabby get into an argument about it after azealia made the tweet saying "They both look like they share needles" and she can hear it from upstairs. Gabi just wants him to stop posting on there altogether, even if it was to defend her, and he swears that it's no big deal and everything is gonna be fine. She's just scared that Azealia might end up saying something bad about Clara and that doesn't sit right with her. When Clara hears the fighting calm down she walks downstairs to the kitchen and can sense the tension in there and just kind of feels awkward about it.
"So are ya'll good now?" she said.
They both turn to face her and each other from their opposite sides of the kitchen. She kept her head down and continued preparing her food. They both went to her.
"What?" They both said.
"Or are y'all still in the being passive aggressive phase were y'all don't talk to each other but still sit impossibly close to each other and then you cuddling on the couch and pretend like nothing happened." She smiled up at them. Her goal was to make them laugh, break the tension. The smiles that spread on their face's was enough.
They knew she probably heard what was happening. She certainly was not a stupid girl. They also knew that she probably could see most of what Azealia was posting because people were reposting it on instagram. They still didn't know about her secret account.
The day went on as usual. She eventually said goodnight to the both of them and went upstairs and to bed, but never fell asleep. When it hit 2 am she got tired of reading the very long twitter threads and texted Matty.
C | Are u up M | Yep. U alright? C | Can you come to my room for a second M | Ofc. One sec
His heart sank when he walked in and saw the tears on her face, illuminated by the phone in the dark room.
"What's happened?" He asked sweetly, coming to her side.
"Can you please just stop?" She asked, through her hiccups.
"What?" He asked, voice full of care. She turned the phone to him. It was a tweet about her and her mom, but mainly her. mentioning how Gabi had her when she was really young and saying that Matty wouldn't be any better of a dad than her biological father. Not only that but she managed to find his name and decided to post it, along with some many other personal details and nasty things that shouldn't be said to any 14 year old. Especially online.
"Christ." He said, looking at the screen and slowly scrolling.
Her tears kept falling as he read, thinking about the words and the comments that come rolling in the moment it was posted. Most were in Clara's favor, asking Azealia how in the world she could post something like this about a 14 year old girl on the internet and telling her that she had nothing to do with Matty's crap. But there were a handful that were in support of Azealia.
"Please just stop. Make it stop."
He put his hand on the side of her face, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, my love."
"My friends didn't even know who he was, they didn't know anything, and now they're all texting me!"
He sat next to her and held her while she cried and he kept scrolling. eventually her tears subsided and her breathing came out in even little hiccups. He held her till she fell asleep.
That was the night he made the reddit post and deleted twitter, vowing to not get her caught in his bullshit or make her feel that way ever again.
|| Matt Murdock x Daughter!OC ||
(Please Reread recap if needed)
Summary: Trying to rebuild the many crumbling things in her life, Kaila must keep things civil between her father and his old acquaintances. But during the trial of Castle v State, this might be proven more difficult than ever. (Set During 2x06 - 2x08, “Regrets Only”, “Semper Fidelis” and “Guilty as Sin”.)
WE ARE SO BACK🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️
(George Daniel x xcx!stepdaughter!r x some Charli)
warnings: mentions of absent father but we all know r don’t gaf, yay George, r is 11, pretty fluffy no angst omg who is sheeeeee
a/n: omg FOUR???
The rhythmic cadence of a knife meeting the cutting board resonated through the kitchen, blending with the low hum of the refrigerator. The air carried the fragrant aroma of fresh herbs and the rich scent of something simmering on the stove, casting a warmth over the room that defied the chill outside. You stood beside Charli, your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, methodically slicing a carrot into uniform rounds, carefully minding your fingers. Cooking together had always been a shared ritual, a quiet and unspoken bond that required neither forced conversation nor expectation. The steady rhythm of chopping, stirring, and the occasional clink of metal against ceramic made up the comfortable symphony of your time together.
Still, when your mother’s voice broke the silence, your stomach tightened.
“Can I ask you something?”
Her tone was light, casual even, but you weren’t fooled. Charli never asked questions without intent. There was always something beneath her words, some deeper contemplation she had been turning over in her mind. You flicked your eyes toward her, trying to read her expression, but she remained focused on her task, slicing with steady precision. Her knife moved effortlessly through a sprig of parsley, the small green leaves scattering like confetti across the cutting board.
“Sure,” you replied, aiming for the same effortless tone.
She hesitated for just a moment before speaking. “Why’d you put the father-daughter dance flyer in the trash?”
Your hand froze mid-slice. The knife hovered over the cutting board as your heart lurched in your chest.
You turned to look at her, eyes wide, like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Charli, however, merely smiled knowingly. Her gaze flicked to you for a brief second before returning to her chopping. “You’re not in trouble, duh,” she assured, smoothly transferring the vegetables into a bowl with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Just wanted to know what was up.”
Your throat tightened as you lowered your gaze, suddenly hyper-focused on the symmetry of the carrot slices. “I dunno,”you muttered.
Charli didn’t push. She let the silence stretch between you, waiting to see if you would fill it on your own. When you didn’t, she chose her next words with care. “Did you want to… ask George at all-”
“Mom,” you interrupted swiftly, your voice bordering on pleading.
“What?” she said, her soft laughter laced with amusement. “I’m just putting it out there. I think he’d love to go with you.”
Your stomach flipped. “For real?” The idea sounded almost ridiculous, like a thought you had shoved away before it could fully form.
Charli shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“Because I’m not his daughter?” The words came out blunt, as though stating a fact rather than revealing the vulnerability laced beneath them. You carefully set the knife down and rubbed your palms against your jeans, as if the motion could dispel the nervous energy coursing through you.
Charli paused, considering her words carefully. “Well, you’re close enough, no?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t even want to ask anyone else? Terry? Grandpa? Me? You always found yourself a date. You were so determined to find a ‘dad for the night’ when you were little.”
You exhaled sharply, your face heating up. “Well… I’m not so little anymore.”
“No,” Charli agreed, her voice gentler now. “But you’re also not as ‘dad-less’ anymore.”
You shot her a warning glance. “Mom.”
“I’m not pushing you,” she assured, reaching for a lemon and slicing it cleanly. The citrusy tang filled the air, sharp and fresh. “But the fact that you’re suddenly unsure about who to ask this year tells me that you already have someone in mind, and maybe you’re just afraid to act on it.”
You hated when she did that - when she unraveled the thoughts tangled in your mind so effortlessly and laid them bare in front of you. It was infuriating, how well she knew you. She could always tell when something was weighing on you, no matter how tightly you tried to hold it in.
You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you focused on the steady motion of your fingers as you nudged the carrot slices into a neat little pile, as if arranging them into order would somehow help you organize the thoughts racing through your head. The kitchen clock ticked steadily, filling the silence between you, the weight of her words settling into your bones.
Finally, you mumbled, “Stop being a good mother.”
Charli laughed, the sound warm and affectionate. “Just sayin’.”
You hesitated, then glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. “Don’t ask him. Please?”
Charli’s hands stilled, and when she turned to face you fully, the teasing glint in her eyes had faded. She studied you for a moment, her expression unreadable, and then nodded once, solemnly. “I won’t say a word.”
Somehow, that made you feel both relieved and even more uncertain all at once.
The scent of the simmering sauce on the stove filled the air, rich and familiar, grounding you in the moment. The father-daughter dance was just a school event - just another thing on a calendar full of forgettable dates. But as you stood there, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle between you and your mother, you couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, it wasn’t as small as you had tried to make it seem.
…
George sat on the edge of the bed, tugging off his socks with a sigh while Charli stood by the dresser, rubbing moisturizer into her hands. The quiet hum of the house settling around them was a familiar comfort, the kind of silence that came with years of shared space.
“What are you doing Friday night?” Charli asked, voice casual as she climbed onto her side of the bed.
George shot her a wary glance. “Oh, God. What’ve you got planned this time?”
Charli rolled her eyes. “Not me. Y/N.”
His expression shifted, curiosity replacing suspicion. “Oh. Then what’s up?”
She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, silently debating whether she was about to make a mistake. She had promised you she wouldn’t say anything, but this wasn’t really breaking that promise, was it? This was just… nudging things in the right direction.
“She’s got a father-daughter dance. Was wondering if you’d be open to going with her?”
George blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Charli sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You know why.”
His brows furrowed slightly, the weight behind her words sinking in. “Does she want to go with me? Or do you want me to go with her?”
“I’m more so just the messenger.”
“Ah, I see.” He leaned back against the headboard, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “She usually finds someone to go with every year, right? I mean, it’s never been a big deal before.”
Charli nodded. “Right. But this time… I found the flyer in the trash.”
George’s gaze sharpened. “She threw it away?”
“Mhm. I brought it up to her, just casually, and told her I thought it was funny that she was struggling to pick a date this year.”
George was quiet for a moment, processing. “And?”
“She didn’t really have an answer. But I think she wanted to ask you.”
Something flickered across his face, something unreadable. “Then why didn’t she?”
Charli shrugged. “She’s scared.”
George frowned. “Scared of what?”
“Of you saying no.”
His mouth parted slightly, as if the idea was so ridiculous it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Why would I say no?”
“I don’t know, George.” She sighed. “But if that’s even a possibility in her mind, then she’d rather not take the risk of finding out.”
Silence hung between them, thick and weighted.
“That sucks.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I don’t want her to think she can’t ask me for things like this.”
Charli watched him, gauging his reaction. “So, what do you want to do?”
George was quiet for another moment, then nodded to himself. “I’ll ask her.”
Charli raised an eyebrow. “And what, just randomly bring it up?”
He smirked slightly. “I’ll tell her I saw something about it. Like I got an email or something.”
Charli gave him a look. “You really think she’s gonna believe that?”
George shrugged, leaning over to switch off the bedside lamp. “I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out.”
Charli studied him for a moment, then smiled softly. “I think it’ll mean a lot to her.”
George settled back against his pillow, exhaling as the room dimmed into darkness. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I hope so.”
…
You’re sitting at the kitchen table, pencil in hand, but your mind is miles away. You’re trying to focus on the homework in front of you, but every time you look down at the page, all you can think about is the dance coming up on Friday. Only 3 days away now.
You’re scared to even mention it to George. You’ve thought about asking him - really, you have - but you’re terrified. Terrified that he’ll say no. Terrified that he’ll think it’s weird or that you’re bothering him, even though he’s your step dad. You’ve never really had a real “dad” to ask, and now that you do, the thought of rejection hurts worse than not asking at all.
You hear footsteps behind you, and then the soft sound of something being set down on the table. You look up and see George standing there, holding a small card, a bouquet of flowers, and a bag of candy. Your heart skips a beat.
You blink up at him, confused. “What’s all this?
He smiles at you, but there’s something soft in his eyes, something that makes your stomach flutter with nerves. He gently sets the flowers and candy in front of you, then sits down at the table, his gaze never leaving yours.
“I know you’ve been thinking about the dance,” he says quietly, his voice calm but full of affection. “And I think you’ve been trying to figure out how to ask me.”
You freeze, your mouth going dry. You didn’t think anyone knew, but somehow, George saw through it. You shift in your seat, your heart racing.
“I… I don’t know if you’ll want to go with me,” you say, barely above a whisper, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t want to bother you.”
George chuckles softly, shaking his head, and you feel the weight of the tension between you start to shift. He leans forward, his hands resting on the table, his smile kind but serious.
“Y/n Aitchison,” he says, taking your hands in his, voice steady, “will you do me the honor... of accompanying me to the father-daughter dance this Friday night?”
You stare at him, blinking in disbelief, unsure if you heard him right. “For real?” you ask, your voice barely a squeak.
“For real,” he replies, his grin widening. “I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else.”
You blink rapidly, still trying to process what he just said. “Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding?” he laughs, leaning back a little, his tone light but full of warmth. “Why would I not be sure? You’re my girl, Y/n. Can you think of another 11-year-old I could ask to bring? Or anything better I could be doing?”
You can’t help it - your heart swells, and a smile breaks across your face. You didn’t even know you were holding your breath until it’s all released in one long sigh of relief. You pick up the card, your hands shaking just a little, and finally meet his gaze.
“It would be my honor,” He says, voice near a whisper - like something sacred, only shared between you two.
George’s eyes soften, and he reaches out, pulling you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like you’ve always belonged there. You let out a soft laugh, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, and you hold on tight, knowing that everything is going to be okay.
“Really?” you ask again, almost in disbelief, pulling back just a little to look up at him. “I get to go with you?”
He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Of course, kid. It’s a date.”
You nod, wiping away the tear that you didn’t even realize had fallen, and the relief floods you like a wave. You feel lighter, brighter. The dance isn’t so scary anymore, and you’re not scared anymore, either. And it’s because you’re going with George.
The dance is nothing compared to what this moment feels like. It’s everything.
This was so good omg what was I on. It’s so cutie.
Could you do one where Gigi sneaks out to a party but runs into one of the guys at the party:)
gigi is moaning because she doesnt need a babysitter. you and matty are on your way out, and adam and carly are getting their son situated in the warm lounge where all the little girls are already bathed and in their pjs. you are dressed the the nines, matty's eyes already landing on where you legs meet your skirt more times than you can count. gigi is sixteen and moody.
"mum this is humiliating," she says, sitting on the bottom of the stairs with her chin in her hands.
"oh darling, they aren't here for you. at least this way the little girls wont be bothering you all night."
"what you moaning about, gi?" matty says, not looking round from where he is fluffing up his hair in the mirror.
"she feels she is too old to have a babysitter," you explain. matty rolls his eyes at his eldest daughter in the mirror. "gigi you are a baby. now get in the lounge and play snakes and ladders in your pjs."
gigi storms off upstairs. stupid matty she thinks. he always sees her as a baby and she isn't. well fuck them. she's going out. a message on her phone from one of her friends reads, cool party tonight, you in? and she texts back and says yep
she sneaks out the house an hour later, looking like a mini version of you in her party dress, her black curls exploding around her face. shay is crying in the living room because she lost snakes and ladders and carly is trying to comfort her while adam corrals the rest of them. they dont notice her leave.
she giggles in the taxi all the way to the party with her friends, drinking cocktails from cans that her older friends picked up. she is starting to feel great. as long as she gets home before you and her dad get back, she'll be golden. you guys will never know.
the taxi takes them out into the countryside, and then pulls up at a farm, where a big barn looms, lights inside, music pounding. there are people outside, leant up against the barn, drinking, laughing, smoking. gigi gets out the cab, grinning. this looks fun. the alcohol is rushing through her veins. she wants to dance. she grabs her friends and they run inside. no one asks her age or for her id.
she is dancing, wildly, her and her friends holding hands and in a circle. the lights are pretty and she can feel the music under her skin. she is having the best time. a couple of her friends break away to go to the loo, and another is making out with someone they just met, and she is laughing at them and while she does, a huge man dances in front of her, blocking her view, nudging her slightly.
"oh sorry love," he turns to her to say. they meet eyes. they both freeze. its her uncle george. his face cracks into a massive grin.
"it's my gigi girl!" he yells, and grabs another person, a girl with long black hair, to get her attention. its gigi's aunty charli who laughs and points at her when she realises who it is.
"omg little party girl!" charli says. gigi rolls with it. they're drunk. they dont have the capacity to have a coherent thought right now about whether she should be there or not. they dance together, charli grabbing her hands and spinning her round. george lifts her up and onto his shoulders, spinning round too, so she throws her hands up and whoops.
"hey man i..." another voice says below her. its someone talking to george. gigi looks down, into a big beardy face. its her uncle ross.
"gigi!" he yells, "what you doing here?!"
he's grinning. she still isnt in trouble.
"partying!" she yells back.
"woooo!" ross says, and joins in dancing with them. when george puts her down, she stands on ross feet to dance like she did when she was teeny tiny, and she laughs when he dips her to the ground like she is a ballroom dancer. except. when she bobs back up. there is another man dancing with them. dancing like a loon. his white shirt sweaty, half open, his eyes bright, his curls wild. gigi doesnt mean too, but she looks at him dead on. their eyes meet. its her dad. what is he doing here?! this was supposed to be a cool party!
"oh no," he says, stopping dancing abruptly, pointing at her "absolutely not!"
"come on man," george says, "let her live a little!"
"dont worry george," she says, "its not living if your dad is at the party"
george laughs and ross says, "isn't that one of our songs?" and matty grabs gigi by the wrist and leads her off into the crowd to find you, mumbling, "just wait until your mother hears this." gigi grins. shes had fun. but she's kind of tired. sleepy. its late. she cant wait to climb back into the cab with her angry parents, get yelled at, promise never to do it again, and then get into her pjs with them in the lounge with a cup of tea and play some snakes and ladders.
(Matty Healy x Daughter!r x George Daniel)
warnings: Some crying, fluff (woah)
a/n: cutesy lil thing for your Saturday :) Thx for requesting anon! I hope this is what you were thinking! (I know who you are🫥)
The past hour and a half had been spent with George and your father watching you run from wall to wall, spilling every toy in the house out onto the floor with chaotic enthusiasm. They’d both convinced themselves you’d tire out eventually, even though all evidence pointed to the opposite.
Every once in a while, you’d run over to George and yank on his arm, pulling him down to the floor with all the stubborn determination you inherited from your father and telling him to “Be the princess, Uncle George!” pressing a Barbie doll into his hand until he adopted a high-pitched voice that made your giggles bubble up and fill the entire room.
George didn’t mind. In fact, he liked the way you smiled so freely with him. But it didn’t take long for the playtime to take a toll.
That’s how they ended up here, sprawled out on the living room floor, defeated by your never-ending energy. Matty’s head rested on the arm of the couch, one arm draped lazily over his face while George lay with his legs splayed out, collapsed and tired from the amount of voices and characters he had to play for you.
“She’s gonna crash any second,” your father said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His voice was muffled, his eyes closed as though he could will sleep to overtake him right there on the carpet.
“I don’t know, mate. She’s built different,” George groaned, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. You were busy digging through a pile of blocks and dolls, as if deciding which disaster to unleash next.
“Oh, trust me. She won’t last more than a few minutes more.” Matty tried to convince himself he knew his daughter better than anyone else. And most of the time, he was right.
You barely noticed their conversation, too engrossed in making your Barbie take a dramatic leap from a castle made of couch cushions. When your father finally called your name, it took you a moment to even register he was speaking to you.
“Baby…” Matty coaxed, his voice softer than before.
You turned your head, eyes wide and curious. Under normal circumstances, your face would have made the pair melt, but they were too tired to be swayed by your cuteness this time.
“I think it’s time for a nap,” he said gently.
“Nooooooo.” You whined immediately, your tiny fists clenching as you looked at them with stubborn defiance. The way you said it, all drawn out and dramatic, made George stifle a laugh.
“Yes, baby. You’ve been awake for way too long. It’s time for some sleep now.”
“But, I’m playin’.” You pouted, bottom lip jutting out as if you believed it might save you from the dreaded nap time.
George tried his hand at reasoning with you. “There’ll be so much playing to do after your nap. But for now, you need to rest.” He stood up from the place on the floor and went to you. You winned in annoyance, trying to wiggle of of his grasp as he attempted to settle you on him.
You cried, your little brows knitting together. There was no way you were giving up on your fun, not when you were sure you had so much energy left to burn. Matty exchanged a look with George, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. And then, he did something he swore he would never do.
It was a whole other struggle by itself to get you off of the Paci. Those months of weaning you off were ones Matty would not take back or go through again. But in a moment like this, he was desperate. He went to the kitchen, opening one of the top cupboards and pulling out a tiny basket filled with your old pacifiers.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Because if you sleep now, you can have this.”
When he returned, holding one of the brightly colored binkies out for you to see, your squirming stopped completely. George did a fake gasp behind you, “What’s that, y/n?”
“Paci.” You breathed the word like a secret, like something magical you hadn’t expected to ever see again.
Matty smiled, his relief outweighing any guilt he might’ve felt. “That’s right. Paci.”
You abandoned the Barbie in your hand by throwing it onto the floor, squirming out of George’s grasp and to your father, reaching your hands out eagerly. He scooped you up, settling you onto his hip as you grabbed the binky and wasted no time bringing it to your lips, the old habit not forgotten.
As Matty adjusted you against his chest, you immediately melted into him, your arms winding around his neck and your head tucking just below his chin like you’d done countless times before.
What followed was the quietest the house had been in hours. You didn’t make a sound, your small body finally relaxing against your father’s chest. Matty and George exchanged astonished glances.
“We’re gonna head to your room, yeah?” Matty whispered, his voice barely above a breath. You didn’t nod, but you didn’t fuss either.
The boys moved carefully, tiptoeing between the mess of toys scattered across the floor. Matty silently cursed himself, realizing he’d spend the majority of your nap cleaning the house instead of resting himself.
George followed behind him, watching as your eyes slowly but surely dropped more and more closed.
“Quick, close the curtains,” Matty said, his tone urgent. George did as he was told, tugging the heavy fabric over the window to cast the room in gentle shadows.
“Turn the sound machine on.”
George fumbled with the buttons before the familiar low hum of white noise filled the room. Everything was falling into place, the perfect storm of conditions to coax you into sleep.
Matty continued rocking you back and forth, his hands rubbing gentle circles along your back. Your eyes grew heavier with each minute, the pull of sleep growing too strong for you to resist.
“Don’t wanna sleep.” You mumbled. Although, your actions betrayed your words with your eyes growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.
“Just for a little bit, baby. Then you can play for as long as you want.”
They watched as you tried to fight off the sleep that was consuming you, your eyes fluttering open and shut. With the sweet reassurances of your father, you let your eyes close shut and breathing even out. George and your father looked at each other wide eyed. Matty slowly transferred you to your tiny bed in the corner of the room, holding his breath for fear of waking you up.
When he successfully laid you down, he pulled your paci out of your mouth and watched as you subconsciously replaced it with your thumb.
Matty smiled before George spoke, “Didn’t need a story or nothing,”
Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn't mean she ain't going to enjoy the most of it. (Can be read as Y/N if you'd like)
Pairings: Matt x Murdock!OFC; Foggy x Murdock!OFC; Karen x Murdock!OFC; Karedevil; Foggy x Marci; OFC x OMC (Kaila Murdock x Jayden Walker)
Rating: Teen through Mature (will warn before each chapter)
Reblogging this gem (again) just caught up on born again. Then immediately reread this. Feeling to many feelings :(((((((
POV: you’re Muse, and Daredevil is running at you in the subway
