Without his weapons, Jon feels naked. His hands itch for them as he follows Jonah to the bedroom, all too aware that his host can hear the fear pulsing at his throat, his heart racing in his chest, so loud that it fills all the quiet, solemn silence between them. He wishes that Jonah had lost it immediately, that he’d pushed Jon against a wall and sucked him dry before Jon could even formulate why he was here, when he should have fled London a week ago.
But Jonah’s too old a vampire to be so thoughtless, and too much of an arse to let Jon have this one kindness. Jon wonders what he would do if he attacked him anyway — there are ways to kill vampires bare-hands, if you’re competent enough and Jon… God, Jon is competent. He was not even nine when he got rid of his first vampire.
He could kill Jonah. Instead, he’s going to let Jonah kill him.
The bedroom is softly lit, and Jonah’s hand brush for the first time against Jon’s wrist. Jon startles, skin burning under the gentle and icy touch, but he lets Jonah grab him, lets him pull them both to the couch in the corner, near the fireplace, until Jon is half-sitting on Jonah’s lap, now too close to ignore the unmoving torso against his, its unnatural coldness, and the hint of sharpness in Jonah’s thoughtful smile.
“I could keep you as a thrall for a few decades first, if that reassures you,” he murmurs at last, fingers dancing at the edge of Jon’s throat.
Jon scowls at him. He thought he would be too terrified at what’s to come to manage to speak until it was done, but apparently his annoyance at Jonah’s general behaviour is enough to make him snap:
“Out of the question. You promised, Jonah.”
“Equal, or nothing at all, yes.”
The words are spoken with too much fondness, too much desire. They’ve been burnt into Jon’s mind ever since they were first whispered, months ago. They send goosebumps on his arms, as Jonah raises his wrist to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss on it. This is me, saving the world, Jon had growled at Basira and Melanie, two weeks ago, but he knew then, as they knew too, as he knows now that saving the world of Jonah’s thirst for horror is only a happy, fortunate afterthought. That Jon would have ended up here anyway, because Jonah is not the only one who was caught in something unexpected and wider than his initial plans.
“Get on with it,” Jon mutters, softer than before.
“I know you’re not one for rituals or formalities,” Jonah chides in return. “But I am not going to treat it as a matter of little importance. I should have made a party of it, truly. This deserves to be savoured, beloved.”
Jon shivers. Instinct is screaming at him to run. His years of training are, instead, reminding him of all the weaknesses Jonah is displaying right now, everything Jon could be exploiting. He wants to close his eyes and shut it all out, wants Jonah to take charge and stop talking and make the choice, but he’s made the promise right back at him. Jon has agency here. Jon has power. Jon has chosen.
“Fine,” he breathes. “Fine. Kiss me, then.”
Jonah obliges, leaning forwards. This is another way to lose himself, Jon thinks, clumsily burying his hands in Jonah’s silky hair. Every kiss with Jonah feels like drowning — there is little one can do to stop a vampire that loves you once you’ve allowed him to touch, little you can say to remind them that you need to breathe, even if they don’t. Jonah only drags his lips to Jon’s jaw once Jon is already seeing blackspots, and keeps going lower and lower until his teeth are grazing against his stuttering pulse.
“You’ll learn to love it,” Jonah promises with a certainty that Jon doesn’t have at all. “You were not made for something as insignificant as human life, Jon. You will love eternity.”
“I love you,” Jon only replies, dizzy and terrified.
“I love you,” repeats Jonah and offers no other warning before biting him.
It’s not that Elias was unobservant, anyone who knew him would say the opposite, it’s that while he was busy observing the lives of other people, paying attention to “his” body was very low on his list of priorities and without his knowledge, it had been quite some time since he had eaten or slept.
It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon, the summer sun making his office almost unbearable since the cooling system in the Institute had packed in the other day. He had his head propped up on his hand while he indulgently watched Jon rant in front of him. Something about how he was evil and he should let the Archival Assistants leave, Elias wasn’t 100% paying attention to the actual words, entranced by passion in Jon’s eyes and how Jon looked when he was so worked up.
Jon huffed as he finished ranting and turned swiftly to leave which was really just unacceptable. Elias stood up and moved to put his hand on Jon’s shoulder but his hand barely traced the back of the other man as the world swirled around him.
I… don’t think I’ve ever participated in a ship week before? Or even made serious ship art? But I’m very fond of JE and I really wanted to. Other things I am fond of: TMA vampires! So I made Jon one. If you’re wondering how that works… I’d say don’t worry about it but I actually have several ideas.
Jon was always a vampire, he’s just a weird, more sentient mutant. Elias wants to study him.
All TMA vampires are sentient, they’re just also too hungry to care about things like morals or leading a regular life outside of feeding. Jon is different, Elias wants to study him.
Jon is currently in the process of being turned (just because it hasn’t been observed in-universe doesn’t mean it couldn’t have happened). Elias wants to study him (but if he’s not careful his fun new science project WILL eat him).
Art under the cut (along with the refs I use for them).
With his eyes now better adjusted to the dark of his bedroom, Jonah now saw that the creature was, indeed, man-shaped. It—He? The more Jonah thought about it, the more he was inclined to use ‘he'—appeared to have long, dark hair. The moonlight caught on the blade of the knife, shining a scant light on the man’s skin. It was darker than Jonah’s, brown in tone, and was barely visible as the space between all the eyes, a wickerwork made out of skin to hold them all.
Jonah Magnus wakes to a man made of many eyes intending to kill him. He reacts as any curious would-be acolyte of the Ceaseless Watcher would. (JonElias Week 2023, day 2: Regency AU)
Jon groaned with exasperation. “Must you always have the last word in everything?”, he said more firmly, his hold on Jonah leaving the other man no room to look away, but he just gave him a cheeky little smile. “If you stop nagging me then I will shut my mouth and come with you. In fact, I will follow you everywhere, if you so want.”
Written for #joneliasweek2023
Based on the prompt “Up Too Late” + Regency AU (with some strong elements of Monday’s “Self Destruction” prompt)
Jonelias week <;3 Day 2 - Regency AU / Up too late Complement to @kalgalen’s yet again gorgeous art, it’s all about the HANDS (and the tender gaze, oh gosh, the tender gaze)
“Jon, there’s truly no need for this,” Jonah says behind him, voice torn between amusement and exasperation.
Jon glares at him as he puts on his coat, although for once in their acquaintance, Jonah is not to blame for this. He did try to point out the time to Jon a few times over the course of the afternoon, even made a casual mention of the weather when the rain started to pound against the windows, but Jon had dismissed all of those little reminders in favour of their latest discovery and the complementary research needed. It seems eventually Jonah also lost track, or decided that it didn’t matter — and now they are here, nearing midnight, and Jon is… Still here.
If he were less angry at himself, he would be flushing at the impropriety of it all. He’s… aware that the social conventions are not quite the same for a lady as they are for a gentleman, of course. He’s acutely aware of them, living the life he lives, dressing as Mr or Miss Sims depending on what he thinks the situation demands, but for all his daring, never before had he found himself alone, late at night, in the home of another gentleman. And not any gentleman — one who knows his secret. One who’s made it very clear, a few weeks ago, that he intended to marry at last, and that none would do but the elusive and aloof Miss Sims.
The mere reminder of it does actually bring a flush to Jon’s face. “I overstayed my welcome,” he mutters sharply.
“You never will in this house,” Jonah retorts, and Jon misses a button of the coat, mouth suddenly dry.
Jonah makes him feel foolish, at times. He gives up on the coat, picks up his gloves instead, refusing to look at his — friend.
“I shall write to you soon so we can decide what to do next,” he tells Jonah, to distract them both, hastily putting on the first glove. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to meet again before the month ends, at least not in such a fashion, but I will make sure Miss James cont—”
His voice dies in his throat as Jonah takes his left hand in his own, the one still bare. Warmth crawls up Jon’s neck, his fingers tingling at the sensation of Jonah’s soft skin against his. It is such little contact — ridiculous, truly, but the intimacy of their positions, the intensity of Jonah’s stare, the gentle yet firm grip of his fingers, suddenly makes Jon feel like he is one of those heroines that his school companions used to dream of being.
“Stay the night,” Jonah whispers. “I have a spare room, Jon. Rest assured you will have all the privacy you require. None of the servants will be allowed in, if that’s what you wish for.”
“This is —” Jon flushes. “You know why I cannot—”
“Miss Sims cannot,” Jonah retorts. “But Miss Sims is at home, as is proper for a lady of her rank. I am entertaining her brother, and nobody will judge me for offering a bed to a friend in need, especially in this weather.”
“Jonah,” Jon breathes.
He has no real argument, he realises. He is much too tempted at the thought, and Jonah must see it in his expression, because he takes yet another step closer and, without looking away from him a minute, brings Jon’s hand to his lips and kisses it. Jon wavers. People have kissed his hand, before, many times. But never like this. Never while he was being Jon.
“Jonah,” he repeats and almost leans on his tiptoes to kiss his mouth proper.
“Soon,” Jonah smiles, thumb caressing Jon’s palm. “Soon, I shall have all of you, and will be the happiest man one can be. But for tonight, I only ask that you agree to stay.”
“I… would appreciate the hospitality,” Jon decides, throat tight and thick with emotion.
Jonah’s sole answer is to kiss each of Jon’s knuckles, slow and tender.
JONELIAS WEEK DAY 2 I AM CURRENTLY RUNNING AROUND MY CAMPUS LOOKING FOR A PLACE TO DO MY HOMEWORK IN PEACE BUT I THINK THE PROMPT WAS UP TOO LATE!! GO TO BED BOY!! ITS LATE!!
Jonelias week!! Day 3 - Confrontation / Gaslamp Fantasy AU (which I sort of assumed was steampunk?) Don’t forget to check out and reblog @kalgalen’s fantastic art!!!
“Hello, Jon.”
The greeting reverbates all around Jon, who steps into the dark room all the same, jaw clenched and gun raised carefully in front of him. Jonah’s voice echoes in his ears, lower and rustier than Jon remembers, but still much too pleased:
“I thought you might find me; in truth, I was hoping it would be you. It’s fitting, isn’t it?”
Jon tries to swallow back a wave of anger. He’s not sure he gets it all when he snaps: “Show yourself. You can’t have changed so much that you like lurking in the dark now.”
Jonah laughs. It seems like it’s coming from everywhere. Despite himself, Jon shivers, heart going out of rhythm for a few seconds.
“I have changed,” his old mentor admits. On Jon’s left, a sudden, single point of light appears, cold and grey; Jon almost shoots, but then another one comes, and another, and another and —oh god, what— “One might even say I made myself entirely new.”
The Institute was silent. It’s hallways empty of the swarm of staff. Each person small and unimportant, but together they were a thriving battery of energy for The Beholding and its followers. Feeding it through their fears and secrets and their invasion into others’ trauma. But at this time of night, even the most overworked and enthusiastic researchers had gone home, leaving the building eerie as moonlight shone through the large windows.
Jonelias week, with the slightest bit of spice this time!! TW for: exhibitionism, teacher/student relationship, everything’s consensual tho Day 4 - On camera / AU University With once again delicious art for @kalgalen !!!!
Jon did not agree to this because he was particularly eager to do it, if he’s honest with himself. He’s already playing with fire just by fooling around with a distinguished professor of Oxford University, and this is a step further towards burning himself. Thoughts of what might happen if the pictures were seen by anyone else, or, worse, perhaps, if someone stumbled on Jon and Elias while they’re doing this, have kept him up all night yesterday.
But Elias had suggested it — casual and mild, while stroking Jon’s thigh, the last time they’d been in his office, and Elias spent so much time seemingly indulging Jon’s whims that Jon had just — Jon hadn’t thought of saying no. Jon was too curious to see what it would feel like, to be the one to indulge Elias, for once.
He is not regretting it either, now that they’re here. The fear of being caught, of being exposed, is still lingering at the back of his mind, but his guts are now filled with another sort of thrill all together. He knows, of course, that he loves Elias’ gaze on him, but this is — this is deeper; more intense; ever since Elias brought the camera to his face, Jon has been completely unable to look away from him.
Something’s still missing though. Yet again Jon is flushed and starting to feel a little breathless, following Elias’ quiet instructions mutedly, but Elias is still — poised; unruffled. This is supposed to be his fantasy. His desire. Jon licks his lips.
The camera flashes.
“I kind of thought you were going to go harder on the cliché,” he tries out, at last.
Elias raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t particularly aware we were acting on one.”
Jon scowls at him, and Elias takes another picture. Jon’s heart makes a twisty little jump in his chest, at the thought that Elias seemingly cannot stop himself, that every little gesture, every little expression Jon makes has to be recorded. For him.
“You asked me to wear a skirt.”
“They suit you.” Elias says, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Jon has the distinct impression of being indulged again. He tilts his chin, unimpressed and a little annoyed. He wants to see Elias undone. Tentatively, he leans backward, opening his legs more, and moves his left hand, unprompted. His shirt falls a little bit more open.
“Thank you, sir,” he says, voice low and sweet. “But I thought you said I was distracting in them. Is it better now?”
Elias’ lips part; the camera goes off; Jon does not grin.
“I can take off a few more clothes, professor,” he insists. “If you think that might help.”
“Yes,” Elias says — and it sounds impulsive and tight, just enough that Jon knows he’s got him. Oh he will break his composure tonight, even if he’s got to make a fool of himself in the process.
It’s been a hectic couple of days but I FINALLY have this one done!! For JE week day 2, up too late/vampires, which is definitely today and not two days ago and I will not hear a word otherwise.
I’m a sucker for both pre-S1 Jonelias and Jonjonah so I couldn’t resist adding them both.
Chapters:
1/1
Fandom:
The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships:
Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist
Characters:
Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus, Martin Blackwood
Additional Tags:
Vampires, Inspired by Dracula, References to Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897), Jon gets to be jonathan AND lucy, Martin gets to be mina AND arthur, Mind Control, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Vampire compulsion powers, Blood Drinking, Obsession and power imbalance, Creep behavior, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss
Summary:
There was a moment where Jon only felt his warm breath on his neck, a tiny warning right before Elias plunged his teeth in. —— This is the Jonelias tag so i’m assuming we’re all following along with Dracula Daily, right? So we all remember when Mina found Lucy in the graveyard after getting drinked. That, but Elias is Dracula.
ok i should give this a caption. day 5. uhh religious devotion. cult au also if u ignore the fact that its very very catholic. legit used a catholic priest and that guy from placebo as a reference. yeah.
i actually. ok. so i think MAG 160.2 jonny says for the characters dnd classes elias would be a cleric, which makes sense. and jon would be a warlock that thinks hes a druid. also makes sense. this is that.
not a jonelias week prompt, but it was inspired by the people on the jonelias server! (hi guys!)
this is an au where (up to you why) jonah puts his eyes in jon. for me, hes either nearly or jus fully marked. jonah thinks jon died immediately, so he attempts to read out the ritual to summon the eye. however, his throat closes up when he tries to. it had to be jon. luckily, jon didnt die in the transfer. unfortunately, he has to convince jon to read it. includes body sharing, jon becoming head of the institute, other avatars thinking its simply jonah, all the fun shenanigans.
theres a few more ideas for it, but thats all ill say now!
A horrible, uncomfortable little laugh bubbles in his chest as this chunk of his magnetic tape heart pulls away from the rest, as his wet eyes search Jon’s eyes and eyes and eyes, their two figures framed by those still, silent wings. Of course it was always going to lead to this. Perhaps there won’t be anything left of him, by the time Jon is finished. Perhaps Jon already started devouring him the moment they first crossed paths all those years ago.
He holds out the piece in his bloody palm, nothing more than a dark tangle still attached by a few strands, and takes a slow, shaky breath.
“Take it.”
JonElias Week 2023, Day 6: Dreams and Nightmares. This is an excerpt from a scene @paradisepuppet and I wrote during NaNo last year.
speaking of Jonelias week. I did write a small thing. Its not even a fic. Just an itty bitty crumb of Jonelias because I needed to write it. So here you go. TW, THERE ARE BOOBS
– When the sun rises, the small man curled in the creamy white sheets on the bed stirs. His brown skin is rudely patterned with a map of the hardships of his life, but his face, while peppered in uneven black beard, and lined before his time can almost be called delicate. His cheekbones are prominent, though that might be because he looks half-starved, skin stretched too tight over his bones. Unruly long hair, black and streaked with silver-grey like starlight, halo his head on the pillow, and as the sun rays peek in through the curtains, his eyelids scrunch against the light, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks, and then open. He stirs himself, sitting up, letting the sheets fall away from his slim, rounded shoulders, and as he stretches languidly, like a cat, pool around his feminine hips. The round scars dot him like freckles, though his small breasts and belly are completely free of them. There is a bruise laid across his right breast like a kiss, sucked into the flesh with such fervour and passion. The man’s hand, skin puckered red across his palm and halfway to his fingers, slides down his chest, and lingers there, on the mark of his lover. A smile curves those lips. And then he gets up to start his day.
In the bathroom, there are an assortment of brand new toiletries, purchased in advance. The man hums under his breath, his voice rich and low as he selects what he needs, and then finally, he looks up at his reflection. His grey irises are almost silver in this lighting, and though the corneas around them are red and inflamed with blood vessels, he knows, from experience - that they will fade. All that is left now, is…
Jonah Magnus presses his scarred hand to his chest, where he can feel his heart beating. Irregularly, like a little moth beating its wings ineffectively against its cage of bone. He’d often wondered where the unfortunate souls went when he commandeered their bodies to extend his own, already unnaturally long life. Most expired the moment he finished the ritual, and carefully carved their eyes from their skulls. But this one, oh, his most precious archivist - somehow, he lingered. Jonah could feel him watching from somewhere deep in his head, helpless. Terrified. He picks up a straight razor and feels his pupils dilating, a fear response. A chuckle is pulled from his lips. “Don’t worry, Jon,” he purrs in his new voice, breaking it in. “I promise I’ll take good care of your body. Or should I say, mine now?” His laughter echoes off the walls as he feels his bare body break into a cold sweat and it doesn’t stop.
Basira closed her eyes and did not consider any similarities between this hypothetical person and Jonathan Sims.
The silence sat between them, grew from embryo to adulthood, probably encountered something terrible and with too many eyes or limbs or worms, and died a disgusting death in the manner of any previous employee of the Magnus Institute.
‘Do you want,’ she kept from gritting her teeth, ‘… to talk about it?”
Jon pines, Basira watches and wishes he wasn’t doing it in front of her. (JonElias Week 2023, day 7: Missed Connection)
