#skye x reader

Chamber

You hadn’t meant to say it. It slipped out while he was adjusting your clothes for one of those fancy events, hands steady, movements practiced, standing too close the way he always does.

“Mon chéri/e” he murmured, smoothing out a crease on your clothes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were nervous.” He was smiling. That easy, knowing smile that always made your stomach twist in the worst way. Making you feel like he already fully knew what you were feeling for him.

And then it just... happened. “I love you.”

His hands stilled. Only for a second, but enough to feel it.

For once, it was him caught off guard. Then, without saying a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“I know” he said, voice still smooth but quieter than usual. His eyes, though, were something else, steady, a little too serious.

Sova

He always brought you something warm after tough missions. Tonight it was tea, exactly how you liked it. He handed it over without a word, offering a quiet smile that always brought you a sense of relief.

You sat on the edge of your bed, still in your clothes from today's mission. He turned to leave like he always did, respectful of your space and never staying for too long, but something tugged inside you today.

“Sasha.”

He looked back, hand still on the doorframe.

“I love you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. Just... still. Then he let out a quiet laugh, soft and genuine, the kind of sound you wouldn't hear from him often.

“I hoped you did” he said, stepping back toward you.

He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, just close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “Because I love you too.”

You reached your hand out to grasp his and just leaned against him. There was no need to say more after that.

Gekko

The infirmary was quiet except for the low hum of equipment and Wingman’s soft breathing from the corner. Gekko sat on the bed, shoulder freshly bandaged, still cracking jokes while you cleaned up the mess of supplies around him.

You tried to scold him (tried to stay annoyed) but your hands were shaking just a little. “Geez, you really freaked me out out there,” you muttered.

He looked at you then, a bit more serious than before. “Yeah… sorry” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—I couldn’t let you take that hit.”

Your stomach twisted. He said it like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t the kind of thing that could’ve ended him.

“You’re lucky I love you too much” you said, voice soft but firm, unable to help the way it slipped out.

He blinked, surprised, but only for a second. Then that familiar grin spread across his face, wide and a little crooked.

“Yo... seriously?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Yeah. Seriously.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached over and took your hand, fingers warm and careful. “I was kinda hoping you’d say that someday” he said, almost sheepish now.

“I love you too. For real.”

And he didn’t let go of your hand, not even when you went to sleep that day.

Breach

Sparring with Breach was always intense but somehow still fun. You were both slick with sweat, catching your breath after the latest round. He hauled you up from the mat with one hand, grinning like he hadn’t just nearly knocked you flat.

“You’re getting bette,” he said, brushing off your shoulder.

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. Then, casually (too casually) you added, “I love you.”

He froze. That grin dropped in real time.

“Wait—what?”

You looked up at him, not backing down. “You heard me.”

There was a beat where neither of you moved. Then he stepped in, close enough to make your pulse stutter.

“You better mean that,” he said, voice rough around the edges.

“I do.”

The kiss he gave you was quick, heated and when he pulled back, his smirk returned, but this time, it was different.

Skye

You and Skye were walking the trail behind the base her favorite place, full of winding trees and animals. She was mid-sentence, telling you about some big woodworking project that she did years ago.

And then you said it. No build-up. No hesitation.

“Skye, I love you.”

She stopped mid-step, turning toward you. “Wait, for real?”

You nodded, suddenly unsure of yourself now that the words were out.

She stepped closer, bumping her shoulder into yours with a warm smile. “You know,” she said, “I was wondering how long it’d take you.”

Then she wrapped you in a hug that was incredibly comforting, her voice soft near your ear. “I love ya too.”

The rest of the walk was slower after that. Quieter. But every time you looked at her, she was already looking back.

Reyna

You didn’t expect her to respond. Not really. The two of you lay next to each other under the covers after a long, brutal mission, the kind that left it's mark. She was silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling and mind somewhere far away.

“I love you.” You said it into the stillness, barely more than a breath.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Then, softly, so soft you almost missed it, she replied, “You shouldn’t.”

You turned to face her anyway. “But I do.”

She looked at you then, finally. Her expression unreadable, eyes dark and searching. “You’re foolish,” she murmured, brushing her fingers along your cheek like she couldn’t help herself.

“But I won’t lie” she added, voice even quieter. “I… feel something too.”

It wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t a promise. But coming from Reyna, it was everything.

And that was enough.

Deke finds Daisy alone, leaning against the railing overlooking the lower levels of the Lighthouse, arms crossed, brow furrowed like she’s trying to wrestle the mission debrief into submission with sheer willpower. He fidgets, rehearsing the words in his head one more time before stepping forward.

“Hey,” he starts, trying to be casual. It comes out slightly too loud.

Daisy turns, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Hey. What’s up?” She’s calm. Friendly. Which somehow makes it worse.

Deke shifts on his feet. “Nothing, I just—uh, wanted to talk. About something. You got a sec?”

Daisy raises a brow. “Sure.” She turns fully to face him, arms resting loosely on the railing now. “You okay?”

He laughs—nervous, high-pitched. “Yeah, yeah, just, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “So, I’ve been thinking. And I know we’ve had some weird moments—”

“Wow, really starting strong,” Daisy mutters, but she’s smiling. Sort of.

“—and I just thought, maybe, I don’t know, we’ve got this vibe, right? And it’s been a long few weeks and I think you’re awesome and badass and scary in a good way—”

“Deke,” Daisy says, a warning tone sliding into her voice like she already knows where this is going.

He powers through anyway. “—so what I’m trying to say is, I think I have a crush on you. Like, real feelings. And I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, you know . . . go out sometime. With me.”

Silence. For one glorious second, he thinks maybe it didn’t come out like a train wreck.

Then Daisy exhales slowly. “Deke . . .”

“Oh god,” he blurts, eyes widening. “You’re going to say no.”

“I am,” she says gently. “I like you, Deke, I do. Just . . . not that way.”

He freezes. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Makes sense.”

“I’m flattered,” she continues, voice soft and sincere. “But I have a girlfriend.”

Deke blinks. “Wait—you what?”

“I’m dating someone,” Daisy says, a faint grin pulling at the corners of her mouth like this whole conversation is a ticking bomb she just disarmed.

“A girlfriend?” he echoes, completely stunned.

She nods.

“Since when?!”

Daisy shrugs. “A while.”

He looks like his brain is rebooting in real time. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t feel like broadcasting it. And it’s been . . . complicated. End-of-the-world, post-apocalyptic kind of complicated.”

Deke raises both eyebrows. “Okay, yeah, fair.”

She pats his arm. “You’re sweet, Deke. And weird. But not my type.”

He smiles, but it’s more of a grimace. “Cool. Coolcoolcool. I’m gonna . . . go drink something. Or run into a wall. Something manly.”

She chuckles. “Try not to walk into any explosive hallways on the way.”

As he turns to leave, thoroughly crushed but trying not to show it, he throws a look over his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, though. Whoever she is.”

Daisy leans back against the railing, her smirk returning. “Thanks. She’s a handful.”

Off in the shadows above, perched casually on the metal catwalk, (Y/n) grins like a shark and whispers under her breath, “Damn right I am.”

. . .

Phil Coulson prides himself on timing.

Not just in the director sense—missions, deployment, backup, all that jazz—but in life. In entering a room at the exact right moment to defuse tension, deliver a quip, or drop just enough mystery to make people rethink their life choices.

Today, however, his timing is shit.

The door to the analysis room hisses open with a soft pneumatic sigh. Coulson strides in, datapad in one hand, coffee in the other, already mid-sentence to no one. “Hey, have either of you seen the new data pull from—”

He stops.

Dead.

Because Daisy Johnson—his field commander, SHIELD’s top Inhuman asset, queen of sass and bad ideas—and (Y/n) (L/n), resident genius and part-time menace, are very much not reviewing seismic data.

They’re in the corner, tangled up like horny teenagers behind a bleachers rack, Daisy pinned halfway to the wall, and (Y/n)’s hand suspiciously low on her thigh.

For half a second, no one moves.

Then (Y/n) turns, sees him, and—of course—grins.

“Well, hey Coulson,” she drawls, not even flinching. “Come to supervise our team-building exercise?”

Coulson blinks. “I—was—just—"

Daisy makes a noise that could either be a groan or a death threat. Her face is redder than a mission-critical alert.

(Y/n) reaches casually behind her, presses a button on the console, and flips the screen from the paused video feed of a simulation to a very convincing static-filled diagnostic screen. “See? Training.”

“You were kissing her neck,” Coulson points out, voice high and tight like a man who has walked in on just enough of this.

“Neck targeting,” (Y/n) says seriously. “Vital vulnerability. I’m thorough.”

Daisy finally buries her face in her hands. “I told you we shouldn’t have stayed in here . . .”

“Correction,” (Y/n) says, smug as ever. “You said that before you climbed me like a rock wall. I’d call that implied consent.”

“I hate everything,” Daisy mutters.

Coulson clears his throat, then clears it again louder, like that will unburn the image from his retinas. “Okay. I’m going to rewind ten seconds and pretend I walked in before this started.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for the bonus round?” (Y/n) teases, hooking a thumb toward Daisy. “She was just about to interrogate me with her tongue.”

“(Y/n), I swear to god,” Daisy growls.

“I’m good!” Coulson calls over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “Yep! Leaving now! Not writing this in the log!”

The door hisses closed behind him.

There’s a beat of silence. Then Daisy turns to (Y/n), scowling.

“You said this room was clear.”

“It was!” (Y/n) protests, though not very convincingly. “Until Old Man Stealth decided to check in early.”

Daisy sighs and rests her forehead against (Y/n)’s chest. “We’re so getting a lecture about professionalism.”

(Y/n) chuckles and wraps her arms around her again. “If it helps, I was gonna try and bribe him with coffee.”

“Pretty sure you traumatized him past the point of caffeine.”

They stand there for another minute, tangled up in each other, waiting for the humiliation to fade. It doesn’t. But Daisy’s heartbeat slows back to something steady, and (Y/n)’s fingertips draw soothing circles into her back.

Daisy sighs again, quieter this time. “You’re lucky I like you.”

(Y/n) grins into her hair. “I know. I’d date me, too.”

. . .

Melinda May doesn’t eavesdrop. She just happens to have exceptionally good hearing and little tolerance for whispers in the hallway during weapons maintenance hours.

Daisy’s voice floats down from the upper level of the Lighthouse’s training deck—light, teasing, followed by the low murmur of someone else responding.

Then a laugh. Not a casual chuckle, but that specific laugh—the one Daisy had only ever used around Lincoln.

May pauses mid-disassembly of her sidearm.

She listens for a moment longer. Hushed tones, quiet giggles, a faint, metallic thump like someone being gently shoved against the wall.

Her eyes narrow.

She reassembles the pistol, loads it in record time, and heads toward the stairs.

By the time she makes it to the observation deck overlooking the gym, Daisy is alone, pretending to stretch like she’s ever cared about warm-ups. Her jacket is on inside out, and her hair is just the wrong kind of tousled to be natural.

May stops at the top of the stairs and stares down at her.

Daisy freezes mid-stretch like she’s just been spotted stealing nuclear codes.

“ . . . Hey,” she offers.

May folds her arms. “You’re late for combat review.”

“Right! Yeah, sorry—I got, uh, distracted. Was helping Simmons—”

“You’re lying.”

Daisy winces. “Okay, not Simmons.”

May walks down one step. “You’re smiling.”

Daisy blinks. “So?”

“You don’t smile during warm-ups. You glare. You scowl. Once, you bit a punching bag.”

“It was a bad day,” Daisy mutters.

“You’re seeing someone,” May says flatly.

Daisy stiffens. “What? No. That’s—why would you even—”

“Your hair’s messed up, your shirt’s wrinkled, and you’re glowing. It’s either love or radiation poisoning.”

Daisy sighs in defeat and drops onto the nearest bench. “Please don’t kill me.”

May blinks slowly. “That depends. Who is it?”

Daisy mumbles something.

“Speak up.”

“. . . It’s (Y/n).”

May stares. Then: “I see.”

“You’re not mad?” Daisy asks, a little surprised.

“I didn’t say that.”

Daisy sits straighter. “It’s not a thing, okay? We’ve been careful. Mostly. Very careful. Except that one time with the coffee table, but that was—”

May holds up a hand. “I don’t need details.”

“Right. Sorry.”

They sit in silence for a beat.

May studies her. “Does she make you lose focus?”

Daisy shakes her head immediately. “No. Well. Sometimes. But not in the field.”

May raises one eyebrow. “You sure? Because if you freeze mid-firefight to make out with your girlfriend, I will personally break every bone in your body and hers.”

“Understood.”

May’s expression softens by an almost imperceptible margin. “Is she good to you?”

Daisy looks away, biting back a smile. “Yeah. She really is.”

“She’s trouble.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says, smiling now. “I like that about her.”

May turns to leave, boots echoing softly down the metal stairs. At the bottom, she glances over her shoulder.

“Tell (Y/n) to wear less lipstick when she’s sneaking out of training rooms.”

Daisy goes crimson. “Oh my god.”

May’s already gone.

. . .

Fitz is balancing two mugs of tea, his datapad, and exactly zero patience when he steps into the lab.

It’s been a long morning already. Something about a rift in the graviton field, Simmons disappearing for three hours to “borrow” equipment, and Deke getting his fingers stuck in the food replicator again. All Fitz wants now is ten minutes of peace in the lab before anyone breaks time and space again.

He pushes the door open with his elbow.

“Okay,” he mutters, “no fires, no broken tech, no—”

Then he sees them.

Daisy’s perched on the edge of the central worktable, and (Y/n) is standing between her legs, both of them in a bubble of laughter and . . . kissing.

Very distracted, not-at-all-lab-appropriate kissing.

Fitz freezes like he’s walked into Medusa’s closet.

“OH—OH NO—bloody hell!”

The mugs crash to the floor.

Daisy jumps three feet. (Y/n), to her credit (or lack thereof), simply turns and raises one eyebrow like this is his fault.

“Fitz!” Daisy blurts. “Wha—what are you doing?!”

“This is my lab!” he shrieks, eyes shut tight. “I came in for tea and science, not romantic entanglement contamination!”

(Y/n) sighs and pats Daisy’s shoulder. “I told you locking the door was an option. And hey, this is my lab too.”

Daisy is bright red. “We weren’t—we weren’t doing anything weird!”

“You were practically on top of the particle scanner!” Fitz says, still shielding his eyes like a kid watching a horror movie. “People touch that!”

“It’s not like we were—you know—rolling around on it,” Daisy mutters, adjusting her jacket.

“That’s not comforting!”

(Y/n) picks up one of the fallen mugs and dusts it off casually. “Honestly, this is probably the least chaotic thing that’s happened in this lab all week.”

“Not the point!”

Daisy steps between them, trying to play diplomat. “Okay, okay, let’s all take a deep breath. Nobody’s dying. Fitz just… found out a little early.”

“A little early?!” he squawks. “This is something you tell people! In a controlled setting! Preferably with a slideshow and non-touching examples!”

(Y/n) crosses her arms. “If it helps, we were going to tell everyone eventually.”

“Before or after I had to call in trauma counseling?!”

“Before,” she says smoothly. “Probably.”

Daisy sighs and elbows (Y/n). “Okay, enough. Fitz? I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Fitz lowers his hand and finally opens one eye. They’re standing apart now, at least. He’s still pink in the face, but no longer vibrating.

“. . . So you two are . . . a thing?”

“Yes,” Daisy says.

“Unfortunately for her,” (Y/n) adds teasingly.

“She’s not kidding,” Daisy mutters.

Fitz groans and sinks into a chair. “You realize this means Simmons is going to lose her mind.”

“Oh yeah,” (Y/n) says, grinning. “She’s going to Pinterest an entire dossier about it.”

Daisy covers her face with her hands. “We’re doomed.”

“Emotionally and professionally,” Fitz agrees. “Now please—go be gross somewhere else. This is a sacred scientific space.”

(Y/n) shoots him finger guns. “You got it, Dr. Romance.”

They leave the lab—Daisy shuffling with embarrassment, (Y/n) whistling cheerfully. Fitz stares at the tea puddle on the floor and sighs deeply.

. . . 

Simmons isn’t trying to eavesdrop. Really.

She’s just walking past the auxiliary comms room when she hears Daisy laughing. Not the dry, sarcastic laugh she gives Deke when he misuses a touchscreen, or the clipped, tired one she saves for post-mission debriefs.

No—this is soft. Giddy. Practically glowing.

Simmons freezes just outside the doorway.

The door’s mostly closed, but not fully latched. And through the small crack, she hears it:

“Your hair’s a mess, babydoll,” (Y/n) says, and her voice is gentle, teasing.

Daisy snorts. “You’re the one who tackled me during training. Pretty sure I have a bruise shaped like your ego.”

“Impossible,” (Y/n) replies with a laugh. “My ego’s much too large to leave just one bruise.”

There’s a pause. The kind filled with that invisible electricity people only emit when they’re looking at each other like the rest of the world has faded away.

Then Daisy, quietly: “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yet strangely irresistible,” (Y/n) murmurs. “It’s a problem. For you.”

There’s a soft rustling sound—Simmons recognizes it instantly as someone brushing fingers through hair, a touch so casual and intimate she almost forgets how to breathe.

“I still can’t believe this is real sometimes,” Daisy admits, voice hushed.

(Y/n) answers without hesitation. “It’s real. You’re real. And I’m going to keep reminding you until you get sick of me.”

“Never gonna happen.”

Simmons slaps a hand over her mouth before a squeal escapes.

She backs up half a step—only to trip over a utility case and go sprawling into the hallway.

The crash is loud. Unmistakable.

Inside, a pair of voices shout in sync: “What was that?!”

“False alarm!” Simmons blurts, scrambling to her feet like a toddler caught stealing cookies. “Totally fine! Just—dropped a—thing! Not spying!”

The door swings open.

(Y/n) appears, arms crossed, brow raised. “Jemma.”

“Yes?”

“Enjoy the show?”

“No! No! I mean—I didn’t see anything! I just—heard . . . everything,” she admits, redder than a Level 10 alert.

Daisy appears behind her, face a mix of panic and resignation. “So . . . you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Simmons says, hands clasped to her chest. “You two are—adorable.”

Daisy groans. “Please don’t start.”

“I mean it!” Simmons insists, beaming. “I’ve been rooting for you both for months.”

(Y/n) tilts her head. “You knew?”

“I had my suspicions,” Simmons says, eyes practically sparkling. “The extra coffee mugs. The matching bruises. Daisy humming love songs while inventorying explosive devices—”

“I did not,” Daisy hisses.

“You did,” Simmons says brightly. “It was One Direction.”

Daisy slaps her forehead.

Simmons continues, dreamy. “I just love love. And after everything you’ve been through? It’s just so . . . soft. And healing. And romantic! Like a secret base rom-com.”

“We’re not a rom-com,” Daisy mutters.

“Speak for yourself,” (Y/n) says, tossing an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. “I’ve been workshopping our tagline: ‘Two Agents, One Heartbeat. Also Several Guns.’”

Simmons gasps. “I would watch that.”

“You’re dangerously supportive,” Daisy tells her.

“Of course I am!” Simmons says, glowing. “But I’ll keep your secret, if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks,” Daisy says, clearly touched. “We’re just . . . not ready for the whole team to know.”

“Don’t worry,” Simmons says with a wink. “Your romance is safe with me.”

She turns to go—then pauses, pointing a finger at (Y/n).

“But if I ever hear you call her babydoll again, I’m going to implode from secondhand embarrassment.”

(Y/n) shrugs. “Then maybe don’t linger outside the comms rooms next time.”

Simmons squeaks and flees down the hallway.

(Y/n) shuts the door behind her, laughing. Daisy groans and hides her face in (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“She’s going to write fanfiction about us, isn’t she?”

(Y/n) grins. “Bet it’s already drafted.”

. . .

Elena grips the small package in her hand, mentally rehearsing her quick in-and-out plan. She just needs to drop off the new comms module to Daisy and be on her way — no fuss, no drama.

The door to Daisy’s room stands slightly ajar.

Elena sighs. It’s late, she’s tired, and the door’s open. She’ll just—

She pushes the door open without knocking.

What greets her is the exact opposite of ‘no fuss.’

(Y/n) lies curled up on the couch, asleep like a cat on Daisy’s chest. Daisy’s fingers are lazily stroking (Y/n)’s hair, and her eyes are closed too, but there’s a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Elena freezes mid-step, the package halfway raised.

“Oh.”

She clears her throat.

Daisy’s eyes snap open. “Elena. You forgot to knock.”

(Y/n) stirs, blinking up at Elena with heavy-lidded confusion, then burrows closer into Daisy.

“Yeah,” Elena says, voice carefully neutral, though her eyes are sparkling with something dangerous. “You two . . . are just . . . wow.”

Daisy flushes. “It’s not what it looks like.”

(Y/n) mumbles sleepily. “Unless you think this looks like an elaborate hostage situation, we’re good.”

Elena steps fully inside, lowering the package onto the desk with exaggerated care. “I’m not sure what I’m more impressed by—your ability to nap anywhere or the sheer audacity of being this cute when you’re supposed to be prepping for the mission tomorrow.”

(Y/n) looks up, stretching like a contented cat, and shoots Elena a mock glare. “We’re professionals. We rest efficiently.”

“Sure you do,” Elena says, crossing her arms.

Daisy groans, rubbing the back of her neck. “Elena, please don’t pretend you’re not secretly thrilled we’re dating.”

Elena arches one eyebrow. “Me? Thrilled? I’m the last person who’d give you two a free pass.”

(Y/n) chuckles. “Yeah, but you’re also the person who threatens to throw a grenade at anyone who breaks our hearts.”

Elena’s eyes soften just a fraction. “I’m just protective.”

“Because you care,” Daisy says softly.

Elena clears her throat again. “Alright, alright, fine. You two are officially allowed to be this adorable. But only if you keep it off the mission floor.”

“Deal,” (Y/n) says, leaning in to kiss Daisy’s temple.

Elena grins. “Now, can I get my comms module back? I’ve got about five minutes before I have to pretend I’m not daydreaming about how cute you two are.”

Daisy laughs. “Coming right up.”

Elena winks at (Y/n) on the way out. “And you? Try not to steal the captain’s heart too much.”

(Y/n) grins. “No promises.”

The door clicks shut behind Elena, leaving a trail of affectionate teasing and something warmer hanging in the air.

Daisy shakes her head with a smile. “You realize that’s a ‘you’re going to get punched’ warning, right?”

(Y/n) shrugs. “Bring it.”

. . .

The hum of the base fades into the background as Daisy pulls (Y/n) close in the dim light of her room.

(Y/n) smirks, head resting against Daisy’s chest. “You’re going to regret bringing me here when I start making bad jokes.”

Daisy chuckles softly, fingers tracing lazy circles on (Y/n)’s back. “You say that like it’s not my favorite part.”

(Y/n) tilts her head up to catch Daisy’s eyes. “You really have a thing for sarcasm wrapped in a snarky grin, huh?”

Daisy grins. “Well, it’s better than the brooding lone wolf act. Though you do that pretty well too.”

(Y/n) nudges her playfully. “Lone wolf? Please. I’m more like a sarcastic poodle with a bad attitude.”

Daisy laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “That’s . . . oddly accurate.”

They fall into comfortable silence, just the two of them. Daisy’s hand finds (Y/n)’s, fingers intertwining naturally.

“You know,” Daisy says quietly, “I’m glad you’re here. That you’re this — smart, sarcastic, impossible—”

(Y/n) cuts her off with a grin. “Impossibly amazing? I like where this is going.”

Daisy laughs and squeezes her hand. “Exactly.”

(Y/n) leans in, voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “I was worried for a second. About telling people. About how this would change things.”

Daisy presses a kiss to her forehead. “I get it. But you’re not just my girlfriend. You’re my partner. No matter what.”

(Y/n) closes her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Let’s make a deal.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow.

“No matter what happens. No matter who finds out first, or how messy it gets . . . we’re in this together.”

Daisy smiles, nodding. “Together.”

(Y/n) snorts. “And if anyone messes with that . . . well, they’ll have me to deal with.”

Daisy smirks. “I’m counting on it.”

They share a soft laugh before settling back into the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

For a little while, it’s just them — no secrets, no confusion, just quiet and the steady beat of two hearts syncing perfectly.

. . . 

Mack rounds the corner into the common area, where the familiar figure of (Y/n) lounges comfortably on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, scrolling through her datapad. Daisy sits next to her, close enough that their shoulders brush, fingers lightly intertwined.

Mack freezes mid-step.

He blinks, then clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, voice casual but eyes sharp. “I knew you two were close. But I didn’t realize ‘close’ meant this close.”

(Y/n) glances up, smirking. “You’re slow on the uptake, Mack.”

Daisy smiles softly, squeezing (Y/n)’s hand. “We’re . . . dating.”

Mack raises his eyebrows, a grin slowly spreading. “You could’ve said so.”

(Y/n) shrugs. “We wanted to tell you all at the right time. Guess that time’s now.”

Mack shakes his head, chuckling. “Alright, I’m happy for you both. But you do realize this changes the team dynamic, right?”

Daisy laughs. “How so?”

“Well,” Mack says, leaning against the table, “you’re officially ‘that couple.’ Which means I get to be the overprotective big brother and call out anyone who steps out of line.”

(Y/n) grins wickedly. “Sounds like a plan.”

Mack nods, eyes twinkling. “Good. Because if anyone messes with you two, they’ve got me to answer to.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Mack claps his hands together. “Alright then, consider me fully on board. Just promise me you’ll keep the PDA to a minimum on mission days.”

(Y/n) winks. “No guarantees.”

They all laugh, the easy rhythm of the team settling comfortably around them.

Mack glances at Daisy and (Y/n) again, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Seriously though,” he says, “you two make a good team — on and off the field.”

(Y/n) leans back with a satisfied smirk. “Told you I’m good at multitasking.”

. . . 

Deke shifts nervously on his feet, eyes flicking between Daisy and (Y/n) like he’s trying to decode some secret message only they know.

“Look, Deke,” Daisy says, voice calm but firm. “I told you I have a girlfriend, right?”

Deke nods quickly, a little too eagerly. “Yeah! You said that. But, uh . . . you didn’t say who.”

(Y/n) smirks, arms crossed, clearly amused. “Yeah, Deke. It’s me. We’re dating.”

Deke blinks. Then blinks again.

“You and you?” he asks, clearly confused.

Daisy laughs softly. “No, no. Me and (Y/n).”

Deke looks from Daisy to (Y/n), then back again, eyebrows furrowed. “You mean, like, both of you?” he asks, voice hopeful.

(Y/n) raises an eyebrow. “Uh, no, just the two of us.”

Deke’s eyes widen.

“So, wait . . .” he starts slowly, “you’re like . . . best friends or something?”

Daisy groans, running a hand through her hair.

“No, Deke. Wait, well, yeah. Kinda,” Daisy says, trying to keep her patience. “We’re dating. Like, boyfriend-girlfriend, except I guess . . . girlfriend-girlfriend.”

Deke blinks. “Girlfriend-girlfriend? Like a superhero team-up?”

(Y/n) bursts out laughing. “Sure, Deke. Superhero team-up. That’s one way to put it.”

Deke grins, oblivious. “Cool! So, I can be your sidekick, right?”

Daisy and (Y/n) exchange a look and shake their heads.

“Deke,” Daisy says, voice gentle now, “you are part of the team. But this? This is something special between me and (Y/n).”

Deke’s grin falters, but then he brightens again.

“Okay! Got it. You two are super close, like a secret mission squad. I’m honored to be your sidekick.”

(Y/n) chuckles. “You’re something else, Deke.”

Daisy pulls (Y/n) close, and they share a quiet smile.

“Well, Deke,” Daisy says, “thanks for being so awesome. And for finally hearing us out.”

Deke salutes with a goofy grin.

“Always, boss.”

. . .

The soft glow of the evening lights casts a warm haze over Daisy’s room. (Y/n) sits curled up on the couch, fingers tangled in Daisy’s hair, eyes half-closed. Daisy’s arms are wrapped securely around her, the steady beat of her heart a comforting rhythm against (Y/n)’s temple.

“You know,” (Y/n) murmurs, voice thick with amusement, “for someone who saves the world on a daily basis, you sure get flustered when it comes to telling people you’re dating me.”

Daisy smiles, brushing a stray curl from (Y/n)’s forehead. “Well, it’s different. It’s personal. And, honestly? I didn’t want to make it weird with Deke.”

(Y/n) snorts softly. “Weird? Daisy, you’ve known Deke what, like a month? He’s so oblivious he thinks ‘dating’ is a secret code word for ‘partner-in-crime.’”

Daisy laughs, a sound that always makes (Y/n)’s heart skip. “Yeah. That. I just want him to understand without feeling like we’re pulling the rug out from under him.”

(Y/n) shifts, propping herself up on one elbow to look Daisy in the eye. “He’ll get it. Eventually. And if he doesn’t, well . . . we’ll just have to keep annoying him until he does.”

Daisy smirks. “Good plan. You’re the expert in annoying.”

(Y/n) grins, nudging Daisy’s side. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

They lapse into comfortable silence, hands still intertwined.

“You ready?” Daisy asks after a moment, voice soft but determined.

(Y/n) nods, resting her forehead against Daisy’s. “Yeah. Together.”

Daisy presses a gentle kiss to (Y/n)’s lips, slow and reassuring.

“Together,” she echoes.

. . . 

Deke slumps into the common room couch, looking both hopeful and utterly confused. Around him, the whole team is gathered: Coulson, May, Fitz, Simmons, Elena, Mack, and of course Daisy and (Y/n). 

“So,” Coulson begins, folding his hands on the table. “We’re here because it seems like you’re still a bit . . . unclear about something.”

Deke shrugs, eyes darting nervously. “Hey, I’m trying, okay?”

May raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. “Trying isn’t quite cutting it.”

(Y/n) smirks from her seat next to Daisy. “Deke, we’ve been dropping hints like we’re in a bomb range, and you’re still missing them.”

Deke rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not the best at . . . subtext.”

Elena leans forward, voice gentle. “We just want to make sure you know that Daisy and (Y/n) are dating. Like, officially.”

Fitz holds up a whiteboard with a diagram titled “How Relationships Work,” complete with stick figures, arrows, and hearts. “We thought a visual aid might help.”

Deke blinks at the complicated doodles. “Uh . . . that helps? Sort of?”

Simmons adds, “It’s okay, Deke.”

Mack grins. “And you’re stuck with us all, so you might as well get used to it.”

Deke finally chuckles. “Okay, so… you’re serious. Like, in love?”

Daisy nods, reaching over to squeeze (Y/n)’s hand. “Yeah. And we want you to be part of it — just not the . . .  you know, third wheel part.”

(Y/n) smirks. “Unless you want to be. I mean, we could use a good sidekick.” Daisy kicks her under the table—though not hard enough to do any real damage. 

Deke throws his hands up. “I’m trying to keep up here!”

Everyone laughs, the tension breaking like a wave.

After another hour of questions, clarifications, and more bad jokes from (Y/n), Deke finally leans back, a wide smile on his face.

“I get it. You two are . . . amazing. And I’m happy for you.”

Coulson claps him on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it, Deke.”

May smirks. “See? Not so hard.”

Deke grins. “Now, how do I get one of those cool ‘team’ T-shirts?”

(Y/n) raises an eyebrow. “Only if you promise to keep up next time.”

“Deal,” he says, laughing.

Daisy leans into (Y/n), and they share a quiet smile, surrounded by their team — their family.

Because sometimes, even when it takes a little longer, the people who matter most come through.

Word Count: 4794 words

Skye / Daisy Johnson x Fem!Reader:

@imapotato

@confusinggemini612

“hey.” “hi.”

skye and you study each other, as if seeing each other for the first time again. it feels brand new, scary and exciting. she appears significantly less angry than the last time you were together. her eye bags weren’t as deepened or dark, tan skin insanely smooth, glowing, and beautiful. she is so beautiful.

even like this, at midnight, dressed in sweats. she could be wearing a garbage bag and still appear to be the stunning star that she is; something you had honestly told her.

she also looks very fucking stunned.

skye hadn’t expected you to come here, to be standing outside her door, in her presence. yeah, she had messaged you, asking you to, but she never thought that you would actually oblige.

you hadn’t been over in a very long time, the woman attempting to check in on you every so often, hoping that the day would come when your name would be in her notifications.

that day never came.

she couldn’t blame you, she had led your…friendship, down this road. the harsh and pointless arguments, the shutting you out when all you wanted was to be in her life, just to be replaced by someone else, someone she pretended to love.

sometimes you thought that was her punishment for you. you weren’t sure what for, but it had felt like it. seeing her and him dazzling on red carpets, all so fake.

maybe that’s why she made it a goal to ignore you, you saw through her. through everything that she tried to keep buried, you knew her too much. you had loved her too much, and at the time, skye had thought of it as suffocation.

caring too much for her when she was inevitably going to fuck up. she already carried the weight of the world on her shoulders from everyone else in her life, she did not want that with the person she had loved most.

so she made sure that wouldn’t happen. she got rid of you.

and like a stray animal in a storm, you’re at her door, both of you with weak smiles as if the last conversation held between you didn’t end with you two sobbing.

“do you want to…?” she asks the dumb question nervously, stepping aside to let you in.

you thank her, welcoming yourself into her calmly lit place, a sense of dread in your stomach despite the endless fond memories you had experienced here.

sitting beside her as she plays her piano, watching her delicate fingers drift over the keys, occasionally meeting her brown eyes. you always found peace when she was only singing to you, it seemed more personal. especially with the love songs that she kept for your ears and your ears only.

holding her on the cool tile of her kitchen floor, allowing her to cry in the safety of your arms from whatever was troubling her that day. you’d last in that position for hours, body going numb but you never complained. you welcomed it, if anything.

on top of her on her bed, listening to the sweet sighs leave her lips like the melody of her songs. sometimes skye needed you as close to her as possible, tasting you and relishing in it. it leaves a bad taste in your mouth now, worried those precious moments will never be replicated.

not with skye, and not with anyone that attempts to fill the skye-shaped void in your life.

“so…how are you?” skye speaks, gently shutting the door behind her. she doesn’t approach you, still eyeing you like an object that randomly spawned in her home.

you’re still studying her living space, but when you do turn to her, she takes notice of the cardboard box in your hands, resting against your stomach. blocking her from engulfing you tightly.

“good…yeah…fine. and you?”

“me too…i mean i’m also good.”

awkward. this is awkward, and both of you should have been prepared for this. skye did envision how this would go, the right things to say, but now all those planned words have died on her tongue. she gulps.

“i, uh…i wanted to apologize…for like…everything.”

“skye–” “the way i treated you after…after he showed up…i regret it. a lot,” she laughs nervously, one hand playing in her hair while the other is shoved in her pocket, “and you’re like, all i think about, so it’s been really fucking hard, you know? wondering where you are…if you’re okay…if you found someone new.” someone that wasn’t her, she thinks.

”and i just,” skye continues, approaching you, “i miss you…i have since…”

she lets her words linger, unable to say the hard part to your face. since she decided to leave you behind. when you stand before her, with the face she absolutely adores, it feels like hell to imagine she had made the same face cry. the same kind eyes pour like a rainstorm.

“i’m…i’m so sorry. i know that means probably nothing but i mean it...” skye honestly tells you, immediately anxious for whatever words were to leave your lips.

worried you wouldn't feel the weight of her words and how much she truly meant the things she had said. that the damage had been done, and she had lost the person that mattered to her most. for good, this time. a year of physical separation and endless stalking of social media already felt like torture to her.

for you, it’s almost overwhelming. you almost didn’t come here, you needed a motivation other than to simply see her. you wouldn’t know where that would lead you, showing up completely vulnerable. that’s what the box in your hands is for, why you’re here. why her words hurt you just as much as they heal you.

you feel the bubble in your throat begins to grow.

“i brought some stuff you never picked up from my place,” you say almost robotically, trying to not show any of the emotion pouring over you. you ignored her completely, skye’s brows furrowing in a blend of confusion and disappointment.

“w-what? i–” she stutters, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “are you not going to acknowledge anything i just said?”

you take a step toward her, her arms suddenly occupied when you shove the box into them.

“it’s mostly clothes—”

“stop,” skye interrupts, eyes widening when you’re already walking away from her. towards the door. you hear a thud, the box now on her floor. then you feel her hand on your wrist, a tight grip to hold you in place.

“i d-don’t want my clothes, i want…” skye stops herself, pleading eyes doing all the talking for her. her heart is pounding, afraid all of her words were for nothing, that you’re done with her. for good. the worst possible scenario, that almost makes her want to breakdown and cry.

“i don’t know what you want me to say, skye.”

“fucking anything,” she laughs humorously, the uncomfortable hold she had on you loosening, but not completely. “y-you can even say you hate me— just anything.”

“i don’t…hate you.”

“you don’t?” she sounds…almost shocked. and that really hurts. you would never want skye to even think that was ever a possibility, and you wonder how long that idea has been in her head. “i figured after everything…”

after everything i still love you, is what you want to say. you don’t allow yourself to, not ready to put your heart on a platter and serve it to her, so instead you do the second best thing. you hug her. tightly, like someone is trying to take her away from you; a nightmare.

she embraces you just the same, if not tighter if that is possible without suffocating you.

“i’ve…missed you too,” you admit, “seeing your face everywhere doesn’t help.”

she groans as if she can relate, which in a way she can. she also sees your face everywhere, just not on the covers on magazines and billboards. in her head, before she sleeps, and when she wakes up.

“sorry about that.”

“don’t be…i’m proud of you. like, really proud of you skye,” you tell her, something you should’ve already said. “watching you get better…seeing you happy….that’s all i wanted.”

her heart flutters your name in morse code, your simple yet reassuring words feeling like the sun was beaming on her; as warm as your body is pressed against hers.

you hesitate, “you…are happy, right?”

“yes— yeah,” skye answers near immediately, “have almost everything i want.”

almost. the embrace comes to an end, her soft brown eyes meeting yours. you open your mouth, then shut it, because you don’t know what to say to her insinuation. you didn’t come here for this. you didn’t. and yet the barrier you placed between your heart and hers is crumbling.

“skye…” “i just want you back…in my life…that’s it…” she tells you, not wanting you to feel pressured romantically and scare you away. simply to have you within her grasp, to feel your love once more, is all she longed for. that is something that you have in common, so you nod.

“…okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, skye.”

she wears a bright smile, one of relief, of hope. hoping to mend your relationship, to make you feel comfortable enough again to have a genuine relationship. a pure one, not tainted by the person she used during the dark days of her past. to fix everything she had let go wrong.

“i don't hate her, alright?” lana sighed. “i just won't be her friend, that's all.”

“but why not? what's so wrong with her that you don't even want to give her a chance? if she ends up as my girlfriend, then you two–”

“i don't want to like her, nor do i want to be her friend–!” lana snapped at you. “if she's your girlfriend and i were to become her friend, i…”

lana trailed off, but you weren't going to let her stop now. she was so close to finally revealing what this was all about.

“what then?” you asked, taking a step closer and watching as lana looked at you fearfully, before her expression turned pained.

“i couldn't forgive myself for being in love with the boyfriend of a friend.” lana looked at you, trying to gauge your reaction. were you mad at her? sad to hear this? or maybe… even happy?

it felt like your entire world was spinning after what lana had said. you couldn't quite tell what exactly it was you were feeling. maybe you were upset with yourself, for not realizing this earlier. or at lana, for never telling you about this.

“you… you're in love with me…?” you couldn't even tell if you sounded happy or not. lana always had a special place in your heart, but why did she only confess to you now that you had met someone new and were about to move on. “how the hell was i supposed to know that you loved me? why didn't you–”

“you weren't supposed to know.”

silence filled the room, as lana and you stared at each other. neither of you knew what to do next. your feelings for each other were already complicated enough when you assumed they were unrequited. but now that you knew they were mutual and that there was a third person involved in this, it only got worse…

“you should've told me earlier…” you sighed eventually. “now i'll have to–”

“i understand.” lana mumbled sadly, as you spoke. “i get that you'd choose–”

“–i'll have to end things with her”

for a moment, lana thought she didn't hear right. her head shot up and she stared at you surprised. you actually chose her? after everything, you really wanted her? she didn't even have to say it out loud for you to get what was going through her head. for once, she was an open book to you.

“i've only said ‘yes’ to dating her, because i thought that things between you and me could never happen. i thought i could move on and try to just be a friend to you. but… it seems that neither of us wants to be just friend, right?”

for once, lana actually smiled. more than just friends. that was something she had wanted for long now. and finally, it was within reach for her…