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Title: An Island, But Not Deserted
Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD
Pairing: Daisy/Jemma/Bobbi
Rating: R
Words: 755
Timeline: Post-Agents Of SHIELD Season Three's Purpose In The Machine
Notes: Spoilers for Agents Of SHIELD Season Three. Threesome. For [community profile] ladiesbingo, prompt "getting physical: touching, hugging and cuddling", Multiamory March, and a prompt at The Annual Femslash Kink Meme
Summary: Three in a bed, and the broken one said, "I love you."

Jemma burrows deeper into Bobbi’s arms, smiling softly as she hears Bobbi’s laughter, as she feels it buzz against her cheek. She exhales deeply, letting herself relax in ways she can’t outside of this room, outside of this bed, outside of this embrace. Bobbi’s holding her so tight, and Daisy’s so warm against her back, and Jemma feels safe and secure and loved.

When she first came back from that desolate planet, it hurt to hear stories of what had happened while she was gone. But these days the pain is less and less - she can view her absence in those tales as being like her time undercover in Hydra, there in spirit if not in physical presence. And hearing the stories helps, it makes the world around her feel real again, as if she’s truly home.

“I swear,” Daisy’s saying, her breath tickling against the back of Jemma’s neck, “I thought Coulson was gonna catch us for sure.”

Jemma can’t help but picture herself being there, hiding in the locker room with Daisy and Bobbi, lips swollen from kissing, clothes in disarray, trying to convince Coulson they hadn’t been slacking off from training to make-out instead.

“If I’d been there,” she concludes with a wry smile, “you definitely would have been caught.”

Bobbi laughs again, and cuddles Jemma tighter. “Our terrible liar,” she teases.

In truth, Jemma can lie more easily these days; she’s had a worrying amount of practice, between Hydra and all the times she’s insisted she’s fine when she’s falling apart inside. But looking Coulson in the eye and pretending they hadn’t been kissing? She’d have been as transparent as a window.

The amount of lying practice she’s getting is slowing now, though, because she doesn’t have to insist she’s fine anymore, not here in her room with Bobbi and Daisy wrapped around her. Jemma can be honest, she wants to be honest, and they hold her, they let her talk and let her grieve and let her rage.

They let her heal, piece by piece, helping her through every step.

“You know,” Daisy muses, mischief in her voice, “we have lost time to make up for. All those places Bobbi and I fooled around in? We should go again, now we’ve got Simmons back with us.”

Bobbi hums thoughtfully. “You have a point,” she grins. “The garage, the kitchen, the common room, the gym.”

“The back of the SUV while it’s parked out front,” Daisy adds.

“Oh, that was a good one,” Bobbi agrees, and Jemma giggles, her face heating up a little at the thought of getting intimate somewhere so public.

“But for now, this bed works just fine,” Daisy murmurs, kissing Jemma’s shoulder playfully. Her hips grind against Jemma’s ass, making her gasp and squirm and rock back into the pressure.

Bobbi kisses Jemma’s forehead, her nose, her cheek, and when she reaches Jemma’s lips she pulls her in, her thigh wedging up between Jemma’s legs and her tongue sliding over the roof of Jemma’s mouth. Jemma shivers, feeling every touch so vividly through the thin material of her pyjamas, feeling Bobbi’s hand grip her arm and Daisy’s fingers dig into her hip.

They move together slowly, Bobbi’s chest dragging against Jemma’s on every breath, Daisy undulating against her back. Daisy’s hand wriggles between Jemma and Bobbi’s bodies, slipping down between Jemma’s legs, and she moans softly as Daisy’s fingers stroke her through the fabric. Bobbi’s hips buck forward, rubbing herself against Daisy’s knuckles, and Jemma feels Bobbi’s sigh across her wet lips.

This is part of the healing. Not just the sex, although it’s certainly wonderful and always has been, since long before the portal whisked her away. It’s their presence, the way they love Jemma no matter what she’s been through, no matter how long she’s been missing, no matter that she’s not the same woman she used to be.

She’s learning to be herself again, learning to be this new version of herself. And on the days when Jemma needs to shut herself in her room and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist, Daisy and Bobbi are right there with her.

This bed has become the island Jemma retreats to. And Daisy and Bobbi are the sun shining overhead, the warm sand beneath her toes, the call of birds in the sky and the gentle lap of the ocean. They’re her very own paradise, and Jemma whimpers as she comes, knowing they’ll hold her through it, knowing that with them she is never adrift.


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