#daisysous fic

[daily-dose-of-dousy]

right now, nothing sounds more adorable than daisy and sousa enjoying the holiday season together. 🥰

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Not Possible [Soulmate AU]

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x Daniel Sousa

Based on the prompt: “Can someone make a soulmark story with Daisysous where Daisy's soulmark is "Who the hell are you?" and Daisy, being someone that would always get herself into tight situations, was something that she heard a lot and has gotten kind of desensitized to it and while Daniel's soulmark is "Who I am is on a need to know basis", he had gotten into the habit of asking people who they are to get that kind of response. However, both of them are very focused on their respective missions (Daisy to fight the Chronicoms and Daniel to figure out who is trying to infiltrate his SHIELD base), they didn't realize they were each other's soulmates until he noticed his writing on her body while rescuing her from the barn and then they fall in love yay” from @magickgirl786 (lmk if you want me to untag you) 

Warnings: light swearing, mentions of torture, THERE WILL BE AGENTS OF SHIELD SPOILERS

a/n: I was so inspired by the prompt that I literally pounded this out in like an hour last night. This is my first Daisel/Dousy/Sousy/DaisySous fic so lmk what you think!!

___

Daisy Johnson hadn’t exactly had a normal life and being born with the words “Who the hell are you?” tattooed on her wrist didn’t make it any better. It was a question she had asked and been asked many times throughout her life. She asked herself that very question constantly growing up as she fashioned a name and identity for herself since she had no family to do it for her. She created Skye, the hacker but then “Skye” was thrown out the window when she met her parents and learned her real name was Daisy Johnson and she started the entire process of creating an identity over again. At some point, Agent Johnson became Quake and Quake became Destroyer of Worlds, she’d had enough names and identities to make a person’s head spin.

Working as a field agent with SHIELD didn’t help much either. Her job ensured that she was asked: “Who the hell are you?” on nearly every assignment. She barely even registered the shock of hearing the words anymore. She certainly wasn’t listening for them in 1953, decades away from anyone who could possibly be a candidate for her soulmate.

Daniel Sousa wasn’t sure what kind of soulmate he’d be getting with a soulmark like “Who I am is on a need to know basis,” but boy did he try to find out. He had tried to elicit the response from every new person he met but it never hit. The words started to make more sense when he joined the SSR and later SHIELD. Surely his soulmate must be an agent, he thought, but soon enough that idea fell through too. The identity of his soulmate was far from his mind as he went about his job, especially when dealing with the added stress of a Peggy Carter imposter. That must’ve been why the words went right over his head.

“Who the hell are you?” His words were harsh as he stepped into his office only to find it occupied by some dame he’d never seen before.

“Who I am is on a need to know basis.” Her words were curt but she radiated power and authority. On a normal day Daniel might’ve shown a little more respect for the woman but today he was out of patience.

“I need to know.” He demanded and she smirked.

“Ah, no, you don’t.” She smiled coyly, “Because I don’t exist, and we’ve never met. Now, can you shut the door please?”

“Not to be rude, but it’s been one of those days,” he began, eying the woman with his signature no-nonsense look, “So produce some credentials or I’m gonna put you in handcuffs.”

She complied immediately and he nearly let out a sigh of relief. Today may have been stressful but at least everyone was being compliant, even the two imposters he caught had gone quietly and without a fuss.

“I should inform you, that’s not my real name,” she spoke evenly as she handed over her ID, “My initials are C-I-A, catch my drift?”

“Subtle.” He deadpanned but he was grateful. It seemed someone was finally taking his fears of Hydra sleeper cells in SHIELD seriously, maybe someone was finally here to make his day easier.

The next thing he knew he was locked up in the very cell he had been keeping the imposters in. So much for making his day easier.

Daisy was surprised by the flare of guilt that came from locking Sousa up in his own holding cell. She normally wouldn’t have thought twice, it was part of the job and she was saving her people and the world, but there was something about Daniel Sousa that gave her pause. Maybe it was because he was a nice guy, or because he was already catching onto Hydra’s presence more than fifty years before it would actually come to light. Either way, she had to shake off the feeling as she continued on her day.

An opportunity to redeem herself not long after. Daniel Sousa was going to die, killed by the Hydra sleeper cells he was trying to expose, but they didn’t have to let that happen. They wouldn’t let that happen if she had any say in it. She still couldn’t figure out why she felt so strongly about a man she had only interfaced with once but something was telling her she couldn’t just let this man die. So she didn’t.

___

Daniel Sousa was not having a good week. First Hydra, then his base is infiltrated, and now he’s been kidnapped. Except, it’s worse than a kidnapping really, because not only is he no longer in Los Angeles, he was no longer in 1953, and he was, apparently, no longer alive. Somehow Daniel Sousa, Agent of SHIELD and World War II veteran, had found himself in the 1970s without having aged a day. At least this new Future SHIELD still did fieldwork, he really needed the consistency.

He found himself paired up with the agent from his office who’s real identity he learned was Daisy Johnson. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, maybe the power she emanated or her bold attitude, but something drew him to her. Somehow, even with the looming threat of Hydra, he felt less worried with her by his side. Though, maybe it had something to do with her earthquake powers.

It wasn’t until the barn that he realized the true reasoning behind their inexplicable connection.

God, that barn. Daniel wasn’t sure if they’d ever make it out of that god-forsaken building alive. Sitting there listening to Agent Johnson be sliced apart was a torture in itself for him, though he knew his pain was nothing compared to the agony she was surely feeling if her screams were any indicator. She looked like she was on the verge of death when they deposited her back at his side.

“Stay with me,” he remembered begging. He remembered telling her about what happened to his leg. He remembered feeling like there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make sure she made it out of there alive.

Then she lifted up her hand to show the piece of glass stuck under her skin and he realized why he felt so strongly about the woman lying in his lap. His own words, “Who the hell are you?” were tattooed along her wrist. There was no mistaking his handwriting and while all he wanted to do was replay their meeting back in his mind to find out if she had said his words, he knew he needed to keep his mind on task if he ever wanted a shot at this soulmates thing. So that’s what he did, he threw all of his strength, mind, and ability into getting them out of that terrible barn. It wasn’t until he was seated on the Zephyr with Daisy safe, sound, and healing in front of him that he let his mind wander to the possibilities.

___

Daisy wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t alone when she woke up, but she was surprised by her company. She had expected Jemma when she woke up in the med bay’s hospital bed with an IV in her arm, but instead she got Daniel Sousa, not that she was complaining. He looked equal parts relieved and nervous when she awoke though she couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t tell her either, though the nervousness remained throughout her recovery. Jemma informed him that he hadn’t left her side the entire time she was unconscious and her heart warmed at the fact. The sentimentality surprised her, she wasn’t one to grow attached so quickly but there was just something about Daniel Sousa. She didn’t find out what until she had been released from medical.

“Agent Johnson, I think we should talk,” he said in that calm but commanding way of his, though Daisy didn’t miss the nervousness in his voice and face.

She merely nodded, following him into the Zephyr’s kitchen. They sat across from each other at the table, Daisy starting up the coffee machine before sitting down.

“What is it, Agent Sousa?” She asked, a teasing smile on her face, “You look like you might vomit.”

“We’re soulmates,” he blurted before immediately cursing himself and Daisy froze in shock.

“Excuse me?” She finally spit out, subconsciously sliding her fingers over the words on her wrist.

She’d heard the words hundreds of times, surely it couldn’t be him.

“I didn’t realize until I saw my writing on your wrist in the barn, I-” he stopped suddenly, unsure of what to say next. He had dreamed about meeting his soulmate, but never had he thought it would go like this. In lieu of knowing what to say, he rolled up his sleeve instead, placing his wrist on the table with his soulmark on full display.

Daisy’s mind was screaming at her as she stared at the man’s wrist. The man was born decades before her, he was supposed to die before she was even born, and yet those were her words, in her handwriting, clearly displayed on his wrist.

“What the hell?” She heard herself mutter, though she didn’t feel like she was in control of her own body in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel panicked, interpreting her confusion for upset. “I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, especially so soon after recovery-” he rambled before Daisy cut him off by placing a gentle hand on his own that was still resting on the table.

“I’m not upset,” she reassured him, “I just- how is this possible?” She laughed slightly at her own question, soulmarks were an extremely unpredictable thing and even modern science didn’t have a good understanding of them, obviously the chain of events that brought them together were meant to happen.

“I don’t know,” Daniel smiled sadly, “But, as crazy as all this is, I’d like to give it a shot.”

Daisy smiled. She couldn’t help it even if she tried, the man sitting before her was so genuine and even if he wasn’t her soulmate she was sure she’d be feeling the same butterflies in her stomach.

“Me too,” she said softly and the butterflies only flapped harder at the smile that broke across his face.

“I’d like to take you on a date if any of this,” he gestured to the Zephyr and the commotion that came with it, “ever dies down.”

“I’d love that.”

[daisyssousa]

DOUSY APPRECIATION WEEK ★彡 ‘ sousa was there with her all along, in his own way. ’

day two - alternate universe

After Tony Stark invents time travel, and SHIELD claims the technology after his death, Daisy is terrified. Sousa now has an opportunity to return to his old timeline. Though Daisy trusts him with her life, old habits die hard and abandonment fears are hard to shake when every single person you've ever loved has abandoned you at some point, in some form. He could go back to his friends, his family, the era where he belongs. He's mentioned missing them before, and his need to stop Hydra, why wouldn't he go back?

What does her crazy boyfriend decide to do instead?

Go all the way back through her past to various points and leave love letters and messages for her- in his words, he can't take away her past pain, but he can make sure that her past self knows she's loved and reassured that one day everything will be okay. That she's not alone, even if she feels like it.

She’d never had any idea it was him. Only that she'd clung to the notes like a lifeline all throughout her life, tucked in a small make up bag she carried everywhere with her no matter where she found herself. One day she wakes up shocked- she finds the final note he left her, sat next to her on his pillow one morning when he got up early- nothing but the words, "I'm where I need to be, home is with you," as if he already anticipated she would be scared. And her handsome, dorky boyfriend, drinking his coffee and smiling at her from the doorway of their bunk on the Zephyr.

[msjemmxswift]

religion's in your lips, the altar is my hips (17006 words) by mssimmonsfitz Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa, Skye | Daisy Johnson & Daniel Sousa Characters: Skye | Daisy Johnson, Daniel Sousa Additional Tags: Smut, Shameless Smut?, idk?, Established Relationship, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, daisy has a thing for suspenders, and Daniel has a thing for her dress, dousy, Sousy, Daisysous, Voyeurism, Fingering, Shower Sex Series: Part 3 of teeny-tiny dousy drabbles. Summary:

Daisy and Daniel decide to...experiment.

[realchemistry]

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

[redvanillabee]

The first time Daisy got injured during a mission after she and Sousa got married, he was devastated.

Dousy ficlet. Originally posted on Tumblr; now available on AO3.

[lifeisadoozy]

Prompt for a sniffly Daisy cuddling with Sousa the human furnace?

Daisy had gone down with a cold earlier this morning after Daniel had gone to work. She had the day off to rest after a gruesome mission yesterday. It was only lunch time when she heard a key jiggling on her front door before it opened to reveal her boyfriend.

“Hey sweetheart. Since it’s your day off, I thought I’d grab us some lunch.” Daniel said as he looked at Daisy who was curling into herself on the sofa. He tilted his head at the sight of her. “Daisy? Are you alright, darling?”

“‘m sick.” She croaked. Then, she let out a loud sneeze. “Ugh. I can’t...breathe.” She took a deep breath with her mouth and blew it out through her nose only to let out a squeaking sound. Frustrated, she kicked off the blanket that was sitting snugly around her entire body, tossed and turned, before whimpering.

Daniel immediately went towards her and knelt on the floor, bringing him face-to-face with his adorably pouting girlfriend. He brought the blanket that she kicked away back onto her body and wrapped it around her like a burrito. “There. Safe and sound. What do you need?”

Daisy couldn’t tell whether it was the tiredness in her bones, or the cold, or maybe it’s just Daniel, but hearing him murmur softly, asking what she needed warms her from inside out. She gave him a weak smile. “‘m okay.”

His worry frown grew deeper. Standing up, he reached to his back pocket where his tiny telephone was and fished it out. He dialled a number and brought it to his ears. “Hi Mack...Yes, everything’s okay, but Daisy’s sick and I called to ask for the rest of the day off so I can take care of her.” He subtly demanded the director. “Mmhmm. Thank you. I will. Bye.”

“What-you didn’t-” Another sneeze took over her body. “You didn’t have to-”

“I know.” His eyes, full of care, stared back into hers. “I want to. And besides, Mack would kick me to the moon if I didn’t take care of you.”

Daisy chuckled at the notion that Mack would kick his best friend for her. But she couldn’t deny that he might actually do just that.

“So. What do you need?”

“Cuddles?”

Smiling at her antics, he rushed off to place his lunch on their kitchen counter before quickly changing out of his work attire and into a white t-shirt and some grey sweatpants. He climbed onto the sofa, placing himself behind Daisy, with his arms around her. “Your wish is my command, my love.”

Using a lot more energy than she probably should have, Daisy softly quaked him. “Hush. ‘m gettin’ sleepy.” She muttered before she sniffled. And again. And again. "How are you so warm? My own personal furnace." She slurred.

Daniel fondly shook his head at her.

"Mmm." She burrowed deeper into his chest and released a relieved sigh.

He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep tight, honey.”

As sleep came over her, Daisy mumbled, “Mmm. Love you.”

-

oh my i loved this prompt! and yes, i tried to fit every single nickname that daniel would probably call daisy into one tiny fic. thanks for the prompt anon! send more send more! especially because i barely have time to write a proper fic these days. also, yes. there are a couple more prompts in my inbox that i haven’t gotten around yet. but do send more. i promise i’m gonna write em all.

[daisybeewrites]

question:

would y'all like to see a dousy academy au series, a post-canon kora and flint series, or raya/namaari modern au where they go to college together series?

(i can take on two at the moment, but i'll probably eventually write the third. leave your vote in the comments, tags, or my ask box! i love hearing y'alls input and feedback!)

[hecckyeah]

just the mental image of Agent Chief Daniel "it all fazes me just maybe not my face" Sousa sobbing in front of the TV watching E.T. while Daisy holds his hand and tries not to laugh is keeping me going today

[theshipsfirstmate]

Agents of SHIELD Fic: Tell Me I Got Here at the Right Time

finale and post-finale dousy spec. What if they had to fully reset the timeline before they could take it back? What if Daisy was left out of that decision?

A/N: Genuinely don’t know where this came from, other than I can’t seem to stop writing for these two. Also, I want to state for the record that I love Peggy Carter and shipped peggysous, but these two just have my heart and inspiration rn.

Title from “Here at the Right Time” by Josh Ritter.

Tell Me I Got Here at the Right Time (AO3 - wc: 4378)

They think she can’t hear them. In truth, Daisy wishes they were right.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Simmons has regained a good bit of her sparkle since Fitz’s return, but the worry in her voice is what’s most evident now.

“I know. I’m not sure I do either.” There’s a muffled sound after Fitz’s response that Daisy guesses is Simmons swatting at his arm.

“It’s your idea!” she hisses. “What if-“

“Don’t even say it,” her husband answers. “And it’s not my idea. You know that.”

They choose that moment to step back outside, where Daisy’s wringing the nerves out of her hands, hoping to twist them into even more resolve before she steps into the makeshift portal. She knows Fitz has run over a hundred successful tests, has seen over half of them first-hand. But still.

He’s the one of the pair who meets her eyes first, so she hones in before he can try to talk her out of it again. “You promised.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he admits. He’s probably right. But he knows what it means to her, and they all know she would have found another way if he’d refused to help.

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did.” Fitz grimaces, hazarding a glance at his wife, who’s rubbing anxiously at her arms, and then sighs. “Daisy, are you really sure? If something happens to you…”

“I’m sure.” And she is. Danger be damned. “I’m going. I have to.”

She’s had more than enough of time travel. They all have. She’d be happy to never jump again for the rest of her life. But when she regained consciousness after that final battle with Malick and realized the sacrifices that had been made to defeat the Chronicoms for good, she knew immediately that she would be making at least one more trip.

They’d had to do it, the team swore, though they all had a hard time looking her in the eye. Everything, and everyone, had to go back to its rightful place before they could steal the timestream back from Sybil. Daisy didn’t fault them, but her heart broke down to pieces just the same when she woke up to find an empty chair at the foot of her recovery bed.

“He didn’t want to go. He made us promise to tell you that,” Simmons had told her tearfully, needlessly. She already knew.

It took her less than a month to come up with the plan, but a bit longer to convince the rest of the team -- and Daisy still thought of them as a team, scattered though they were now to their own concerns. 

What sealed it for everyone else was a newly-discovered footnote from an historical S.H.I.E.L.D. ledger. 

“According to public records, Daniel Sousa still died at the Hotel Roosevelt on July 22, 1955, like he was supposed to,” she’d explained on their video conference, even though the words burned in her throat. “But not long after, an underground faction of early S.H.I.E.L.D. agents started to assemble in the Los Angeles office. They organized in secret, and fought against the shadier HYDRA factions, every time one of its slimy snake heads popped out of the ground. They didn’t always win. But they did their best.”

“We know Peggy Carter was one of their leaders,” Daisy told the group. “But there’s no solid information on any of the others.”

“You think Agent Sousa faked his death again. On his own.” Simmons had been the one to put her pieces together, to say out loud the hope that was stuck in her throat. 

“We gave him the blueprint,” Daisy nodded. None among them doubted his devotion to rooting out HYDRA, but she knew hope was part of what had her convinced, and she promised she’d weigh their approval before she’d risk her life. “It would be just like him to keep fighting.”

Fitz had mastered the tech in his time away, and had, of course, immediately started constructing a prototype in his backyard before she’d even thought to ask, much to Simmons’ chagrin. As it stands in modern-day Manchester, it looks like a simple phone booth -- a nerdy tribute Daisy’s dying to tease him about -- but he can calibrate it to any coordinates and time in the known universe. And she knows where she needs to be.

“What if he really is dead?” May had been the one to ask the questions no one else dared, though even she had waited for a private phone call to bring them up. “Or what if something happened, and he doesn’t remember you?”

“Then I’ll know for sure,” she’d answered, in part working to convince herself. There was perhaps a fate worse than being forgotten, in this case. “And even if…. even if he doesn’t want to come back, I’ll at least get to say a proper goodbye.”

It was clear everyone had their doubts, but even the most stalwart member of her found family couldn’t deny her that much. 

“You’d better come back.” Simmons is tearing up again, and Daisy definitely cannot handle that right now. “Your goddaughter will be waiting.”

That’s been the hardest part of any of this. It had been a surprise when Fitz returned, just moments after they’d successfully banished the Chronicoms back to their own space and time. It had been a bigger surprise that he’d appeared with a pigtailed toddler in his arms, who’d immediately wriggled out of his grasp and wrapped herself familiarly around Simmons’ legs.

Their daughter was two, almost three, when Simmons forced herself to forget her, but she was brilliant, of course, and somehow made of even stronger stuff than her parents. She powered through her mother’s initial shock and dismay and overwhelming guilt, helping to mend all of their hearts in the process. (Fitz had also dutifully shown her pictures of her S.H.I.E.L.D. family, so she recognized “Auntie May,” “Big Mack” and the rest -- and had a special spot in her heart for “Aunt Dede,” which Daisy did not take for granted.) 

“I’ll be back,” she promised. “You tell her to read Rocky a story every night for me.” 

She and Simmons had stayed up the night before -- after putting the little girl to bed alongside her favorite cuddly toy -- talking through all of the possible contingencies. Almost none of them were worse than never knowing, never getting any sort of closure, her friend had agreed. Almost.

“You remember the order, yeah?”

“Yes, Fitz,” Daisy answers dutifully, trying not to roll her eyes. They’ve been over this fifty times, and drilled it in person at least ten. It’s more time and practice than they ever used to get in the field, on the fly. She’s itching to get a move on. “Launch, exit, cloak the device with the watch…”

“Then, when you’re ready to come back, de-cloak, enter and launch. It should bring you right back here.”

“No matter what,” Simmons chimes in, casting her a look that says much more than her simple reminder. “24 hours is the limit.���

“I know,” Daisy nods, nervously smoothing down her period-appropriate ensemble. “I just need to see him.”

Fitz and Simmons nod solemnly in unison -- if anyone can understand it, it’s them -- and with that, Daisy steps into the booth, preprogrammed with her coordinates, and hits the button on her modified wristwatch.

The jolt of the jump feels familiar, which she takes as a good sign, and when she steps out of the booth, a quick survey of her surroundings allows her to exhale a sigh of relief as she cloaks the pod.

Fitz had plotted out an alley next to the old SSR office in Los Angeles. They know from de-classified S.H.I.E.L.D. documents that the underground corps started in a hidden basement office of the same building, so that’s Daisy’s best guess as to a starting point. It’s a few weeks after his “death,” and if she knows Sousa, he barely missed a day of work.

She double-checks the lobby just to make sure she’s at the right spot, and then sneaks back around the side to slide in through a basement window well. She lands in some kind of storage room, full of file folders and cobwebs, and makes her way to the cluttered, dingy hallway, where, behind a closed, unmarked door, she hears a familiar voice that makes her breath catch in her throat.

“They need to keep thinking I’m dead,” he’s explaining to someone. But he’s not, and the relief is enough to make her brace herself on the doorframe. “And we need to find out what exactly Stark knows about what I was carrying, and more importantly, what he knows about who might be after it.”

Daisy takes a slow, deep breath and knocks softly on the door — and three things happen. First, she hears the conversation go silent, saved for a concerned murmur. Second, Sousa opens the door and she sees him for the first time in months, handsomely square as ever in a dark grey suit and pale green dress shirt. And third, she scans the room and realizes there’s a non-zero chance that she’s about to cry in front of Peggy Carter.

“Daisy?” Sousa’s eyes go wide when he sees her, and it’s hard to be concerned about comporting herself in the presence of the legendary founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. when she’s wondering if his heart is stuttering in his chest the same way as her own.

It hits her in that moment, how much she’s boxed away the memory of him, how much she refused to let herself mourn his loss. He’s right there in front of her -- the man who’d carried her out of Malick’s torture chamber on a bum leg and kept vigil as she healed, the man who’d pushed her towards closure with her mother when she needed it most, the man who had appeared in her life and upended it simply by being kind and loyal and supportive in a way that she’s never known another person to be -- and god, she’s missed him. 

“Agent Sousa,” she grins, even as traitorous tears threaten to cloud her vision. “Good to see you again.”

He stares at her, slack-jawed for a long moment, saying only her name again, but softer, and that’s when she realizes she’s frozen too, helpless to move at the consoling sight of him. They only startle from their reverie when the third person in the room primly clears her throat.

“Pardon my manners.” Daisy moves past Sousa, hyper-aware of all the places she brushes against him, to finally break his disbelieving gaze and extend her hand. “Agent Daisy Johnson.”

“She’s CIA,” Sousa adds after her, and they both watch Agent Carter bristle a little, so he tacks on: “One of the good ones.”

“Well if Daniel vouches for you, it much be true,” the woman stands and straightens her skirt, still eying Daisy suspiciously as she reaches out her own hand to shake. “Peggy Carter.”

“Of course I know who you are.” This earns Daisy a small frown, so she scrambles to cover. “From Daniel… er, Sousa -- he’s told me all about the great work you guys are doing here.”

Another frown, and a glance at the man behind her. Daisy realizes after the fact that it would make a better compliment if the work they were doing here wasn’t supposed to be top secret.

“Are you alright?” Sousa’s brain starts catching up, and he reaches out, fingertips brushing against her waist, before pulling his hands back just as suddenly. “Is everything okay? How are you….here?”

“I…” Daisy hazards another awkward glance at Agent Carter, who’s looking at her like she just stepped out of a spaceship, which, honestly? Not far off. “It’s kind of a complicated story.”

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the other woman offers, her accent masking politeness over her obvious concern. “Then, Daniel, if you-”

“I know,” he answers, though he never takes his eyes off Daisy. “Of course, I-- thank you, we’ll just be a minute.”

“An honor to meet you, truly,” Daisy stutters as Peggy freakin’ Carter exits with a slightly disapproving eyebrow raised in their direction. Simmons is going to kill her.

Sousa closes the door and turns back to face her slowly, almost like he’s preparing himself to find an empty room. But the second his eyes meet hers, the paralyzing effects of surprise and awkwardness fade and Daisy rushes forward into his arms. Burying her face in his neck and catching the scent of his aftershave, she feels herself relax for the first time in a long time.

“Daisy.” He whispers her name, still sounding just as awed, but this time, it’s for her alone. “I thought… is this real?”

“Yes,” she nods into his shoulder, trying not to let him notice that the word comes out on a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry they made you go. Sorry I wasn’t there to stop them. Sorry there wasn’t time to tell you. Like everything else when it comes to him, the apology is so much and not enough, all at once.

“Don’t be sorry.” He pulls back a little, takes her face in his hands and swipes his thumbs at the tears that are smudging her eyes. “Don’t cry. Please.”

“I woke up and you were gone.” She didn't let herself cry about it at the time, the combination of shock and other distractions keeping her emotions occupied. But every time she came to, alone in that healing chamber, was a fresh wave of heartbreak, and they’re all returning to her now, on a tide of tears. “And I--”

“I didn’t want to go,” Sousa interrupts, reaching down to squeeze her hands in his.

She just nods, still taking in the sight of him. “I know.”

“Why— how are you here now?” His brow furrows and she knows exactly where he’s gone, from shock to worry. “Is everything okay?”

It’s the kind concern in his eyes, the way he’s still steady and supportive, even when she’s dropped in from the future, unannounced, pulling the rug out from under him once again. (If she’s totally honest, it’s also the set of his jaw and the memory of how his chest felt beneath her palms.) Daisy lets herself give in, reaching up for his shirt collar in a familiar movement, and pulls him down to capture his lips. Just like before, he pauses for a second and then gives chase, kissing her back with a passion she thought she’d been exaggerating in her memories.

“Sorry,” she whispers again when they pause for a breath, even though this time she’s really not.

“Please don’t be sorry for that,” he grins, blinking his eyes open slowly. She remembers that soft look of wonder, from a stolen moment when there wasn’t enough time to bask in it. 

“I just- We did that once before,” she admits, “back in the time loops. But you didn’t remember.” 

“Well, now I’m extra glad you came back, if only to remind me,” he grins, and it makes her want to kiss him all over again. So she does. But he keeps this one quick, pulling back to ask again, “How did you come back? What’s the plan here?”

Daisy doesn’t quite realize what he’s asking at first.

“Fitz knocked off the Chronicom tech and built his own pod,” she answers, fluttering her hand to the side before bringing it back to his lapel. “I’ve got 24 hours before I’ve got to bring it back.”

There’s a question that goes along with her explanation, but she can’t find the words to ask it just yet, not when the answer could break what’s left of her heart. Instead, she tells him the first truth at the front of her mind. “I just missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he answers. His hands are warm around her waist and she has the fleeting thought that it’s been worth it, even if this is all she gets. And then, because she didn’t catch his meaning the first time, because some part of him knows some part of her better than anyone ever has, he just... asks. 

“So, can I come back?”

Daisy goes light-headed with possibility. It can’t be this easy. “What?”

“Can I come back with you?” She watches for a joke in his eyes but it’s the same old earnest Sousa. “Will they let me? Will it… end the world?”

“No. I mean, yes. Are you sure?” She’s not even sure if her words are forming coherent sentences. Every relationship in her life has been fraught with conflict and heartbreak, for as long as she can remember -- and this one she just gets to have?

“Yes, I’m sure.” Now the teasing smile makes a hint of an appearance. “I’ve been wondering if you’d come back for me since the minute I woke up back in my old house.” 

That confession hits her sideways, just like it had when she asked if he was the type who liked picking other people back up when they fell, and he’d looked into her eyes -- and even deeper -- and answered: “Not for everyone.” 

She knows what the longing has been like for her. But she had so much more time with it than he did. They never even came close to defining this...thing, this flint of friction that gives off sparks between them, and still, he’s just been here. Waiting.

“You had goodbyes you wanted to say, loose ends,” she recalls, trying to clear the whiplash from her mind. The last thing she wants is for him to take the leap and regret it halfway down. 

She shuffles a small step back, but unwilling to completely lose contact, takes one of his hands in her own, studying it intently as she offers him the easy out.

“Daisy.” Sousa lets out a little humorless laugh. “You know they had to knock me out to send me back, right?” 

She didn’t know that, actually, and her fists start to clench in an instinctive response. But he eases them open, drawing her gently back towards him, and she follows.

“My loose ends aren’t in the past anymore,” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the pulse point at her wrist. “I came back and I made my peace -- said what I needed to say to the people that needed to hear it.”

He glances towards at the door -- she’d known that one of those conversations was always meant for Peggy Carter -- and then back at her, and she believes him. Somehow she trusted him from the beginning, even when she had little more than his name and photo on an old S.H.I.E.L.D. file, and she trusts him now more than ever, even as a tiny bit of skepticism is still warring with her hopeful heart.

“But your team. The underground S.H.I.E.L.D. force. That’s you, isn’t it? You and Carter?”

“It is. And a few others. They’re gonna do good work, I know it.” She nods a confirmation. They will. “But I built it so I can lift right out. They’re a well-oiled machine already. Plus, everyone already figures my days are numbered.” 

He’s been planning for this. For her. Of all the possible outcomes, she hadn’t even thought to hope for one where he was waiting with his bags packed, metaphorical or otherwise. He’s a constant surprise and it makes her heart leap to dangerous places every time.

“I went back to work because I’m devoted to the cause,” Sousa continues, “but if you think I haven’t spent every free moment trying to figure a way back to you, thinking about what I’d do if I saw you again...”

“Daniel...” There isn’t much more to say but his name, and even that’s difficult when her throat is thick with emotion. 

“Unless you don’t want me to.” He saves her again, breaking the heavy moment by teasing her some more.

“Of course I do,” Daisy answers, swiping under her eyes. “But I’m gonna ask if you're sure a couple hundred more times.”

He nods, lips pursed. “My answer won’t change.”

“Okay, but we do have some time,” she reminds him with a nervous laugh, even as she’s starting to have faith in his certainty. “You want to sleep on it? Get some dinner or something?”

He grins even wider. “Yeah, you know, pizza sounds good. Your place? In about sixty years?”

She rolls her eyes at him, achingly grateful for even the hint of their familiar dynamic amid all this intensity. “All right, all right, old man. I get it.”

“Do you?” 

“Yeah, I do.” She reaches up to soothe her thumb over the crinkle beside his eye, another tiny detail she’s spent the last few months missing. “But you can keep reminding me.”

He catches her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm and promising, “I can do that.”

She takes a deep breath as he gathers his suit jacket from the back of the chair. Here goes everything. It’s not until they turn to leave that she realizes. 

“Do you need to…”

He’s a little solemn when he catches her meaning, but she’s surprised when it doesn’t make her worry. “Give me just a moment with Peggy, and I’ll meet you…”

“In the alleyway,” she finishes. “I came in through the storage room.”

He nods, and tugs her close for a hard and fast kiss to her lips that has her still dazed when she grasps for the door handle. 

To Agent Carter’s credit, she only looks slightly impatient when Daisy exits, pursing her lips as she brushes past her in the narrow hallway, unsure of what else to do or say. There’s an echoing silence that borders on uncomfortable, and then the other woman speaks. 

“He’s been different lately,” she offers softly, like a secret, before she’s close enough for Sousa to hear, and Daisy stops in her tracks. 

“I thought it was the obvious. I got the sense he was weighing his days after nearly dying. But he’s been waiting for you, hasn’t he?”

Daisy nods, sheepishly, turning back to meet eyes that impossibly seem to already know what’s about to happen. “To be fair,” she answers, truthfully, “I was waiting for him, too.”

The S.H.I.E.L.D. founder gives her a small smile then, and to her surprise, it’s one she recognizes from the mirror. It’s genuine, but sad, and Daisy feels it even deeper because she knows that an affection for the kind and loyal man waiting on them both isn’t the only emotional baggage they have in common. (A very small, very selfish part of her counts her blessings, though, that the other woman hadn’t been able to love Sousa the way he deserves.)

She nods in return, and makes her way back down the hallway, back through the cluttered room, back out to the alley, and back to where she first landed, where she ends up standing, waiting, twisting her hands nervously for the second time in just a few hours. But before she even has long enough to start worry that he’s having second thoughts, Daniel rounds the corner with a suitcase in hand and a grin on his face she wants to remember forever.

“You’re ready?” she asks. He nods, never breaking his stride or her gaze. “You’re sure?”

“I told you,” he assures, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “my answer’s not changing.”

“And Carter?” She takes his hand to step him back against the building, away from where their portal might appear. It’s only partially a distraction from an nerves that might be lingering on her face.

“She understands.” Sousa laces their fingers together and squeezes. “And I may have told her there’s a chance I could pop back around someday, if she needs me.”

He’s not totally out of line. Fitz had warned that the tech was to be used for emergencies only, but Simmons will surely convince him that anything involving Peggy Carter constitutes a proper emergency.

“She doesn’t seem like someone who would be very supportive of a team member jumping ship mid-mission,” Daisy observes, aiming for casual, as she uncloaks the device, which is, thankfully, right where she left it. “Pun not intended.”

“She’s not, usually. But I told her the truth.” A spark of fear lights inside her chest, but he puts it out immediately. “Just enough of it. I trust her.”

“Well, if there’s anyone who can keep a secret...”

Daniel ducks his head in agreement and adds softly, “And then... I asked her if there was anything she wouldn’t do, to have more time.” 

There it is again, that cymbal crash of her heart that takes her breath away. Daisy’s never known a man like this, and while she knows the future is always uncertain, she’s grateful to the abstract laws of time, science, fate and whatever else that she doesn’t have to lose him to the past.

“So, where are we headed?” Daniel follows her into the booth with a hand at the small of her back. It’s a bit of a tighter fit than her arrival trip, but neither of them mind in the slightest.

“If the wind is right, English countryside, 2020,” she answers with a grin. It’s a bit of luck that threading her arms around his neck allows her to kiss him and press the button on her wrist at the same time.

“We’re going home, Agent Sousa.”

[princessamericachavez]

He’s handsome. It’s the first thought that came to her mind, back when she was in training and trying to digest over fifty years of SHIELD history. She’d heard the rumors from Jemma, about Sousa and Carter having been a thing back in the day. She decided, she couldn’t blame Carter, with such a good looking partner around. 

And then she meets him. He’s no longer an old black and white photo in a folder. He’s a man of flesh and blood, unexpectedly sharp and observant. She’s good at lying, always has been, but turns out that she barely has to trick him. She gives him a little truth and it’s enough to get him to cooperate, because he cares, deeply, about everything. That’s the second thing she learns about him. 

The third thing she adds to her mental file on Agent Sousa is that he’s stubbornly moral. It’s a dangerous thing to be in their line of work, when so many choices become grey and it’s so easy stray when trying to make the right choices. She knows it better than anyone; she knows the price that good men pay when they are this stubborn —he will sacrifice himself for the sake of others, for the world. Not again. Not this time. They manage to pull him out of the timeline and it feels like a small retribution for the good man she couldn’t save years ago. 

Daisy remembers being the new comer, getting pulled out of her life and thrown into a life of crazy —really crazy— adventures that she wouldn’t give up for all the gold in the world. She recognizes his worry, his confusion, his anger. And yet, she learns, he’s flexible. For a guy his age —he’s not that much older than her, but still, he’s old-fashioned— he adapts to life with them at an incredible pace. She tries to help, here and there, offer the helping hand she once needed. Talking to him reminds her of who she once was. It’s nice. 

It’s the seventies when she learns that he’s reliable. She can handle herself on her own —most of her life that’s all she had— but it’s unexpectedly comforting to have a partner there to look after her and anticipate her needs. Sousa is quick to intervene when needed, and his convenient rescue from Malick’s advances sends a wave of relief through her body that allows her to let down her guard for a second. He’s watching her back, and Daisy is thankful for it. She adds him quietly to the mental list of the few people in the world that she can count on. 

She’s afraid of how he’ll react when she quakes before him. She shouldn’t be. She’s not ashamed of who she is, what she can do, but she’s seen fear in the eyes of strangers too many times, she knows what fear can do to people. He takes it on the stride, though, the same way he’s taken every crazy revelation thrown his way. 

Daniel Sousa is kind. She realizes this while she goes in and out of consciousness, as he tries to keep her awake with stories that seem so personal, so important to him. Daisy feels the gentleness of his hand brushing his hair, rubbing her back, holding her close to him. She hears the worry in his voice, through the haze of pain and drugs, and it moves something deep inside her chest. He really, actually, cares for her.

She doesn’t remember the trip back, only flashes of his comforting words as he reassures her they are almost there. Because Daniel Sousa is caring, and stubborn, and strong-willed, and reliable, and loyal, and kind. He’s a good man, she decides, watching him through her daze as he carries her to safety... and still so very handsome. God, she’s in trouble.

[daily-dose-of-dousy]

💌 a "love note day" love note for daisy, from sousa 💌

Daisy,

I was on the internet and saw that today is Love Note Day. I still don’t understand what the deal is with these made-up holidays, but this is surely one I can get behind. By now, I hope you know that I don’t need an excuse to write you a love note. However, I would be remiss to not write you one on Love Note Day of all days.

A note implies something short, so I’ll do my best to not compose a full-page letter. But it’s tough to keep things brief when it concerns my love for you. So I’ll just say this (for now): Traveling through space is an astonishing experience, but my favorite journey will always be the one I share with you—whether we’re in deep space or back in the Lighthouse base. Because loving you continues to be the greatest thing I do.

Love,

Daniel

[disruptedvice]

Points for Creativity

day 7: free day (also on ao3)

"It's a time honored tradition," Daisy said with what was probably supposed to be some degree of authority, but the yawn that immediately followed ruined the effect.

Her neck was stiff from the odd, cramped angle, but it was totally worth it. Good nap.

A sleepy smile curled at her lips, and she made no move to get out of her hidey hole.

Daniel gave her a deeply unimpressed look, though his eyes were sparkling with humor. "No, go on, tell me about this tradition of sleeping in bulkheads. I'm all ears."

If that was gonna be her excuse for why he found her curled up in some random nook, then she'd better commit to it.

All things considered, it was a pretty good hiding place. Low to the ground, some unassuming support beams covering it from most vantage points, just an odd space that only existed because the walls were weird back here.

He was actually impressed she found it and discovered that it was technically human sized.

Daniel knew what she was doing here- they both knew that- but he wanted to hear the explanation she came up with anyway.

“So. Back when the team first formed, our base of commands was the Bus- may she rest in peace,” Daisy pressed two fingers to her lips in a kiss, saluting upward to where good planes go when they get blown up. “And don’t get me wrong, living in a kickass jet was a huge step up from living in my van, but we didn’t have quarters, really. We had bunks that were pretty much a hole in the wall with a partition- decent sized holes, but still. It was cozy.”

It was at this point that Daisy considered trying to get out. Problem was, she had really crammed herself in this spot- the only way to get out was to put her hand on the floor and basically fall out, but she knew Daniel would judge her so hard for that. He had a look, okay? Where he raised his eyebrows and looked all innocent like ‘Who? Me?’ when he was absolutely laughing it up inside when she did something that one could argue proved his point.

So no, she was staying in her nook and not strategically falling out of it until he was gone, because she was stubborn like that.

“We all got so used to it that the few times we were staying overnight in like, an actual building, we could never fall asleep in a normal sized room. So we’d go find some crook or cranny to hole up for the night when that happened. The more ridiculous the place, the more points you got for creativity when whoever was tasked to wake you up finds you.”

Daniel nodded, lips pursed and not quite smiling in that I’m totally calling you out on your shit without calling you out on your shit sort of way. “See, I think you found somewhere to hide and nap because no one can ask you to do anything if they can’t find you.”

Daisy grinned. “You’ll never be able to prove it.”

[reyhospacebitch]

Soooo new dousy fic in the works 👀💖💄🍑

[msjemmxswift]

sacred new beginnings. (1752 words) by mssimmonsfitz Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa, Skye | Daisy Johnson & Daniel Sousa, Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz & Daniel Sousa, Jemma Simmons & Daniel Sousa Characters: Skye | Daisy Johnson, Daniel Sousa, Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons Additional Tags: dousy, Daisysous, Timequake, Sousy, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, and flirt, but so much fluff, domestic dousy Series: Part 2 of teeny-tiny dousy drabbles. Summary:

Daisy has a question for Daniel. She kept it to herself for quite some time, but maybe she found the perfect moment to ask it.

[melindacoulson4]

My brain while I try to do anything:

DAISY AND SOUSA THOUGH