#MayDaisy

[coulsons-left-arm]

I'd like to think when Daisy is having a hard time and she didn't sleep all night, she finds May in the morning doing her Tai Chi. Daisy doesn't say a word. Just simply sits up against the wall, knees to her chest, arms hugging them as close as possible to make herself smaller. Simply just a fly on the wall.

May understands this as a sign of Daisy not wanting to be alone, but also not wanting to talk just yet... So she lets her sit there, staring off into space.

Depending on the vibes Daisy gives off, one of a few things could happen:

1. May might stop her routine, bring up another mat, and pull Daisy up to get her to do some Tai Chi with her.

2. She pulls Daisy up and starts swatting at her to get her into a sparring match to burn off anxious steam (if that's what she needs).

3. May finishes her Tai Chi and sits next to Daisy, close enough to let Daisy lay her head on her shoulder, but not so much it smothers her. She gives her space, a way out of she needs.

But there's always no talking. And both parties are okay with that.

[moonlayl]

The first few episodes of s2 are so full of iconic maydaisy scenes.

May being Daisy's SO fits so well and you can really see how far they've come since s1.

May teaching daisy how to shoot and praising her while also warning her to stay vigilant.

May advocating for Daisy and telling Cousin he should be honest to Daisy several times.

Daisy wanting to join May on the field and even questioning Coulson's authority to provide backup for May.

May comforting Daisy after Daisy has her first kill.

Them going on multiple missions together

[avengerdaisy]

Daisy Johnson & Melinda May Agents Of Shield 2x03 Making Friends and Influencing People

[reviiely]

Good morning!! Don’t mind me giving an ask literally less than ten min after you posted lmao—

Very intrigued by your post-tahiti cal & daisy dynamic, I like that he’s still in her life even after all… that that was s2.

I’m more curious about why daisy decided to run away after the whole hive debacle? Was it for the same reasons as in canon?

Also, the last dot point also rose a mental flag in my angst-infested brain — does daisy ever mistake cal for coulson when she’s sick?

First of all, as always, hi Anon! I do not mind you asking me so soon— I love it when people talk to me so this is awesome.

YES SOMEONE ASKED ME ABOUT WHY SHE RAN AWAY FINALLY HAHA!!! I have dialogue written. It wouldn’t have seen the light of day if not for you. Thank you. Thank you so much.

As for your last question, Daisy never mistakes Cal for Coulson. She drew a line between them a long time ago, and she never crosses it, not even by mistake. The reason she rambles is that her brain knows that she trusts Cal. She just… doesn’t remember why she didn’t tell him before. So she then tells him everything that she can think of. She also has a habit of calling him ‘Doc’ and he finds it very endearing.

ONTO THE MAIN EVENT!!!! ITS SUPER DIALOGUE HEAVY IM SORRY BUT VOILA HAVE IT. IT ALSO HAS SOME CONSISTENCY MISTAKES BUT. IGNORE THAT. ILL FIX IT IN A LATER POST.

—

(Post season 3 finale.)

(In Daisy’s room.)

The room felt empty. Her mother and she were inside, but it felt empty. Since Daisy got her powers, everywhere had this sort of buzz, with the volume of it increasing with the number of people around her. The room was quiet. Lincoln’s absence haunted it.

“I think…” Daisy’s voice sounded foreign to herself. “I think it hurts more because I thought we could’ve had something.”

May understood. She always did. “Like what?” her mother asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Daisy admitted. “A future, maybe. I had this thought that maybe after all this was over, we would come home and have a drink and laugh about that time we almost died. Maybe even a life outside of SHIELD. But I…”

“Mm.”

“Last night, I had this dream.”

A beat.

“What did you dream?”

“It was just a regular day. A chill one. No ops, no paperwork, just the kind of day that we could do regular things. Me and him, we had lunch and we sparred and just… spent the day together. We went to sleep and he was next to me, but when I woke up, he wasn’t. For a minute, I let myself think that he just got up early and went to the bathroom or to get us breakfast. I laid there for an hour, pretending that he wasn’t really gone, that he’d be back any minute with a smile or food or anything. I just wanted…”

“Him.”

“Yeah.” Daisy stared at her hands. They blurred as her eyes welled. She didn’t like that. “I don’t think I can stay here anymore. Everything reminds me of him and it hurts. So much. Every hallway, every room, even the cells, they… I just can’t be here anymore.”

“So don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t be here. Take a little time to yourself. No one’s going to blame you. Not even if you never come back.”

“But…”

“We’ll survive without you. We’ll miss you, but we’ll survive.” May squeezed Daisy’s hands gently. “Phil’s going to relegitimize the agency. He’s handing over the reigns to the government.”

That got her attention. “What?”

“He’s stepping down as a director. This time next month, he’ll be a field agent just like you and me. We’ll get to pick our own assignments. The three of us, we can stick together. Just like old days.”

As much as she wanted to… “I can’t.”

“I understand. We’ll keep your room locked.”

“I might not come back.”

“I know. But just in case. You never know.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself out there.”

“Promise.”

Daisy lied as easily as breathing, these days.

[apocalyptichearts]

heart on your sleeve (like you’ve never been loved)

word count: 1,205

enjoy a little bit of 1.06 maydaisy angst i’m just not crazy enough about to actually post on ao3

Skye feels a strong hand rest on her back, gently trying to guide her away from the glass doors she has pressed herself up against— away from the deathlike pallor of Jemma’s features. Another settles on her arm and as much as it pains her, she lets them lead her away. She’s no use to the girl like this; she can’t fix her. Not like Fitz can, anyway.

Keys and code, she’s your girl. Anti-serums and lab rats? Not so much.

The hands linger as she climbs the spiral stairs, body moving as if on autopilot. They withdraw only once she’s standing steady on her own two feet, somewhere in the common room. Or at least she thinks it’s the common room; it makes the most sense for it to be. But her vision has tunneled, and admittedly, she can’t quite discern the ringing in her ears from the beeping of the holotable where Ward and Coulson stand tense and anxious, let alone her approximate location.

They’re talking amongst each other, quickly but quietly, as though to say she was dying aloud would seal Jemma’s fate. They’re voices stay hushed even as the conversation picks up, but when Skye closes her eyes, she swears they’re trying to yell over her thoughts; Her loud and very panicked thoughts. Because Jemma, sweet, sweet Jemma, is down there, stuck in her lab whilst some alien virus slowly eats at her heart and soul. She’s down there dying, and as the seconds pass by, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that there’s nothing anyone can do.

“Skye,” someone squeezes her shoulder, trying to catch her attention, “Skye, look at me.”

The person is pressing in their pleas, and yet somehow all the same calm and collected. Their hands rest softly on Skye’s arms, and she faintly recognizes the way their fingers patter against her skin. The same way they had mere minutes prior.

“You need to slow your breathing,” they instruct. The voice is clearly feminine, but her vision is so blurry, and Jemma is still downstairs and–

“May,” Skye breathes as her vision clears and silent tears begin to fall. Her voice is shaky as she says her name, uncharacteristically needful in its tone, and when did she start hyperventilating she thinks. She can feel the pressure in her chest, a cry for air.

“You’re panicking, Skye. I need you to focus,” May urges, gently squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground her, bring her back from the irregular state of her nervous system. But her erratic breathing prevails and the tears turn heavier and heavier– the fear visibly flooding her body.

And Skye is terrified, because Jemma is dying, and the way her heart constricts at the thought feels fatal and all too alarming. When she looks away briefly, at Ward and Coulson still immersed in something on-screen, then back to May still trying to get through to her, it’s as if she has stopped breathing.

Skye can’t breathe.

She can feel her chest expanding as she sucks in air frantically, and obviously she is somewhat breathing because May is still rather calm and no one else seems concerned with the scene happening mere meters away from them. But her lungs burn, every breath she takes feeling sharp and desperate, her blood droppping in pressure and leaving her lightheaded and—

May grabs one of her hands, forcefully and yet with as much tenderness as she can manifest, and gently presses Skye’s palm against her chest; right where her heartbeat meets her breathing. Skye staggers in her panic, and using what little calm May manages to foster in doing so, the woman takes her other hand and presses it up against Skye’s own chest.

She feels the way her chest rises and falls quickly, heartbeat racing beneath her trembling fingers, a distinct contrast to the steady rhythm of May’s pulse. It feels invasive, Skye finds, to be so close in proximity with someone so unfamiliar to her. Because she doesn’t know May, not really. She may sleep on the same plane and live in the same space and follow her on the same missions, but she doesn’t know her, and it feels like an invasion of the woman’s space. A woman so guarded and closed off ofrom her. But it feels as intrusive as it does soothing, to echo the steady beat of May’s heart.

She keeps her hands still.

A soft expression settles itself across May’s face as she watches the girl’s panicked lull. “Better?”

Skye stares at her for a moment, acutely focused on the sudden repose in her chest. Her thoughts continue to spin lightly in her mind, an endless stream of what-ifs. But as she lets her hands fall gently, the pain in her chest stays subtle and softened. She goes to say something, anything, but the words get caught in her throat just long enough for Coulson to call them over.

Skye can sense the weight in Coulson’s words as he speaks, the inherent comfort of his voice. And yet nothing seems to stick, unable to surpass the headlines in her mind incessantly reminding her of the biochemist downstairs. She doesn’t panic, at least not like before, keeping her breathing steady and focusing on the rise and fall of her chest. Skye doesn’t panic, and still, she doesn’t realize the tension in her fists until May gently pries her hand in between one of her clenched fists, actions hidden from the others by the ledge of the table.

She gets no more than a moment to settle into the comfort before a sudden shriek of alarms engulfs the plane.

“What is that?” Skye freezes, letting May’s hand pull away quickly.

She pulls up the alarm system, swiping through screens until her face drains of all its colour. “Someone’s lowering the cargo door ramp.”

Everything stops for a moment, the team staring blankly at each other– a rush of fear only interrupted once Ward takes off, Coulson following close behind. The other two stay static.

“Skye…” May starts, her body language cautious as she steps closer, studying the way Skye’s body vibrates with every passing second. She’s close enough to catch the girl as her body lunges forward.

She struggles, fighting against the arms that wrap around her, body shaking through the sobs that bubble in her chest. She’s a mess, a complete and absolute mess, and still, May holds her gently.

“Ward’s got this,” she whispers, “we can’t do anything more.”

“Please, May, please,” she cries as her legs let go, crumpling to the floor and dragging May down with her. She grasps at her shirt with weak hands, burying herself further into May’s arms as she feels her heart quite literally give out within her chest.

Her muffled sobs fill the room, tears pleading for the unalterable, only interrupted by the soft comforts of a calm voice.

“She'll be okay, you’ll be okay,” May repeats, again and again and again. It’s a loop of cries and empty platitudes. Because even if Jemma’s not, if she’s not, May can’t bring herself to tell her any differently. “You’ll be okay,” she whispers again, letting Skye’s fear, their fear, wash over.

Wash over and wash away.

[msandss]

It’s funny how Agents of SHIELD just has one of the best representation of a loving family and its dynamics when the parents aren’t even together until when one of them is dying and none of them shares actually blood with their daughter

[incorrect-multiverse]

Daisy: Are you mad?

May: No.

Daisy: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

[cosmicqvake]

Daisy being so high key happy and amused by the fact her parents kissed will always be the greatest idc. She’s the embodiment of the *slightly* immature, nosy child and I will forever love it lmao

[jennastarkhasaheart]

i just rewatched 4x05 and noticed may putting daisy on the ground after the guy almost strangled her to death before she started fighting, while coulson covered them. ah my heart...

[an-inky-fingered-lass]

A story about many things, but mostly about the love between mothers and daughters, through the generations: born and chosen, lost and found.

The wind picked up, bright leaves sighing against the baby blue of a breakable sky. Daisy glanced across at May’s still profile. 

“I’ll walk with you?” 

May glanced at her -- was that a flicker of surprise? -- and nodded. 

Coulson didn’t say anything, as they got out of the car. She saw them exchange a glance, brief and loaded and steady, familiar; May took the lead, hiking up the hilly ground. The flowers in her hand were splotches of color, her dark jeans and old leather jacket standing out stark against well-tended green. Daisy fell into step at her shoulder. 

She’d known that May came here every once in a while. Not often. May hadn’t asked them to come along this time as much as she’d made it clear she didn’t mind if they did. 

Daisy had negotiated her way into getting May to delegate some of her workload for the first time a few years ago, when there wasn't time for anything and May was busily pretending she wasn’t running herself ragged, trying to do a million things at once. She’d ended up on the phone with a list of florists local to various states, who’d made knowing aaah sounds when she said she was speaking on behalf of Melinda May. Lilies and roses, arrangements she didn’t even have to specify; she’d been handed a scrap of paper at least twenty years old, May’s spiky handwriting unchanged and the specifics unthinking in a way that told Daisy this had been routine for a very long time. 

They came to a stop; Daisy's breath stuttered slowly out of her lungs, in spite of herself. 

Continue reading on ao3.

[addictedtostorytelling]

#kicking ass with mama

[moonlayl]

My girls <3333 | Agents of Shield 1x09 "Repairs"

[inkquillery]

👻 self-preservation is a property of jams and jellies 🌪️

~ presumed dead ~ everyone needs a hug ~ poltergeist shenanigans ft. daisy ~ maydaisy ~ team as a family ~ fluff and angst and light crack ~

Summary:

ghorbulous: adj. (of a person or creature) behaving like that of a ghost or other paranormal entity.

OR:

In which Daisy has no self-preservation instincts whatsoever to speak of, but a totally unprecedented aspect of her powers saves her life — and leaves her an unwilling witness to the heartbreak left in her wake.

[reviiely]

Chapters 1 and 2 out now! MayDaisy drabbles for Mother’s Day and Mayday 2024. Hope y’all like!

[apocalyptichearts]

"I know what you're doing, trying to distance yourself from everyone else so they don't drown in your wake–"

credits – warsan shire, how to wear your mothers lipstick || margaret wise brown, the runaway bunny || tame impala, let it happen || @/veerxa on pinterest || elena poniatowska, la flor de lis || hannah green, night terrors

[dreamers-arts]

today’s the 10th anniversary of Agents of Shield, and this year is the 10th anniversary of The Last of Us, so obv I had to combine those media’s most iconic parent-child duo