A Bond Must be Felt
The first time you felt your bonded was the day the mark seared it's way into your warm skin. At the young age of twelve, you were the youngest in your family to ever receive their soul mark, the bold font written just under the swell of your left breast. Your mother had been so broken the moment the bond appeared, covering her mouth to quell the sob deep in her core as she realized she knew that script torn into your once blemish free skin. Every time thereafter, her eyes would be filled with pain. As a seer, it was easy to see the unfortunate, the unfathomable, the damned- you had become one of them the moment that damned name marked you, chosen to belong to another.
Some of the members of your family had diminished their Bonds before a chosen could use them to abuse their magic. It had been a long running story of how your great-great-great-great grandmother had grown corrupt due to the negative chosen who had bonded with her, using her magic and knowledge to decimate a village. If not for another stealing her away, your entire line would not exist. Every moment you peered at the mark once it stayed permanently, it was with fear. You began to cover it with bandages as a way of ignoring the truth that one day you would no longer belong fully to yourself. Even after that first glimpse of kind forest eyes, you were adamant about finding them, him, you could feel that in your chest. Sometimes, bonds worked outside gender; either way, you prayed that he would stay out of your reach.
The arrow that shot past your head threw you from your pensive state, fingers spreading out to push the air towards the gathering agents. It had begun as far back as a year or two, when they first happened upon you. Without your compliance, you were seen as a threat, even if you did nothing but live a quiet, little life, waiting tables at a dive in even if your power, your beautiful magic, could give you so much more. The moment Shield detected your unique abilities, you had suddenly become an acquisition to be bound and tied when you had only ever known freedom. Years had passed by since your mother's crushed hopes and you had found a place of your own off of your compound where the rest of your family still practiced and meddled in the magical dimension, but now it seemed all for naught.
"Come with us quietly and we'll have no need for violence." Coulson, a handler you had seen at every turn, called out to you from behind a male holding a bow and arrow poised to shoot. You narrowed your eyes at him, (E/C) hardening as you began to squeeze your hands together, knocking one male off balance. Another arrow launched its way at you a second later, but a single breath caused it to freeze in midair, moments away from striking you down.
"Why? What have I done to you to deserve something like this? If you don't leave, I can make you. Shoot as many arrows as you like." You spoke back calmly, gesturing your head to the side and causing the arrow to be flicked downward, landing straight upward on the ground. The man holding the bow ( despite your mind screaming Mate. Bonded. Him. Yours. Yours. Matematemate. ) notched another arrow to his bow strung taut, his eyes narrowed, even as the blue green met your pair, you could literally feel his next breath as he grew rigid.
Could he feel it to? The pull of gravity between the two of you, making it hard to breathe at all. The soft (E/C) hue of your eyes lit up, trying to send a wave of help me, please through the bond you’re sure the both of you share. You bond mark feels warm against your sweet, deep russet skin, pulsating with a need to be remembered. When you see his eyes widen a fraction, barely at all, too little to be noticed by anyone else, that’s when you know he knows. He knows. Despite his order, the male standing across from you slowly lowers his bow and arrow, passing them off to one hand before using the free digits to reach for the collar of his shirt. He tugs down the right side and then you see it.
God, it's beautiful-
So beautiful-
Your handwriting, sweet thin loops and cursive perfection carefully drawn into his skin. You only manage to stare at it a second longer before your eyes instantly raise to his, blue dominating green with speckles of grey reflecting back to you like stars dazzling in his orbs. Your breath leaves you in a rush of charged emotions, every thought you've ever had pertaining to this moment amounting to nothing now.
The one person you had never thought you'd have the chance to meet, the one your mother had grown to hate irrevocably, was so close at hand. He's standing there across from you and-
It's his job to kill you .
The revelation destroys your newfound joy and he can see the change in your face, the happiness in your eyes slipping from uncertainty to a glimpse of fear. Your hand slowly lowered, even as more men gathered, guns ready to fire. Coulson looked between you and the archer, his face growing hard.
"Agent, finish your job or someone else will." As he spoke, an arrow shot it's way through the fray, but you did nothing to stop it, even if you saw it coming. It would hurt less than your thoughts, currently stabbing into you seconds before the arrow pierces your shoulder and shot through to the other end. Pain has always come easy to you, and over the years, ignoring it had become easy. Blood took its pleasure in soaking through the grey sweater currently hiding your frail figure, your shoulder sagging from the sheer weight of the titanium arrow. The liquid bubbling in your eyes is a mixture of pain and true physical hurt as you stared at your Bond, wondering why it was that your life had always taken unexpected turns.
You thought that hours had passed by when it had only been a few moments, but him, your Bond, the second your sweater is ruined with your own blood with tears trickling down your cheeks, his arrow is already being fired back, a quiet, blood curdling screech piercing the air. His shoulders hunched as he leaves Coulson's side, almost too fast for you to follow even with your foresight. He came to stand before you, hurt in his eyes as he glanced at your wound.
"Y-You're my.." You can't finish, but you know that he knows. He's been meant for you since the day you were both born.
"You're mine- what a shitty time for you to finally decide to stop running, eh?" A crooked smile is working it's way onto his lips, but you can feel him trying not to let his rage show. Green is working it's way back into his eyes and you wonder if you'll be able to learn his mood just by the color of his eyes, if you'll be able to wake up to those eyes in the morning with a pleasurable ache between your legs and arms wrapped around your waist.
"If I had known.." You don't finish, but you don't need to. His eyes have strayed to your shoulder and they won't leave.
"It's fi-"
"No." A shiver rushes through you at the command in his tone, ordering you not to brush it off lightly.
"We're going to take you back with us to get that arm looked at-" He paused to look back at Coulson. "And when your arm is fixed up, you can leave."
"That's not a part of our orders, agent."
"There was no part of the mission that said to potentially kill my Bonded, was there? I must have lost the memo. She goes. She can do as she pleases, wherever she wants, however she wants." The fact that he spoke up for you was admirable, but in the same moment, rejection reared it's ugly head and you sunk in further into yourself. Your Bonded, yours, Clint- he turned his head quickly to stare down at you, free hand raising to brush a stray tear from your cheek.
"No. No . You are mine. You have been mine this whole time, there's no way I'm going to let you go now. You need to know that I am a man of my word. You're perfect.." He professed, keeping his hand on your cheek as the weapons lowered and your heart began to open.
"Now that I have you, I'll follow you anywhere."
And true to his word, Clint did follow you
Above and beyond.