i dare you to write possessive!elias
i hate u bri
elias/jon, and all the trigger warnings that come with THAT pairing, set after ep 160
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His Archivist is exquisite in his suffering, in the mix of rage and pain and guilt and best of all wonder as he gazes up at the eye in the sky that watches him back. His laugh, hysterical, awful, wondrous, that dissolves into ragged cries gives him the same feeling a good vintage red does, the same feeling he gets of seeing Peter Lukas fail at his own game. He despises the messiness of crying, so he’ll let Martin, good, sweet, key to the end of the world Martin take care of that one, but soon, he knows, his Archivist, his Archive will come to him. It’s the only place where he belongs, after all.
“Jon,” Jonah says, letting out that rich, pleased purr just to see him shiver, unwillingly. Martin isn’t at his side, by some misguided sense of protection he knows. He’s never wanted Martin, though. What he wants is right in front of him, eyes glowing, luminous and a perfect match to what’s watching them overhead now, a perfect map of all the things Jonah has done to him. He leans back against his chair, from where he Watches everything with the blessing of his benevolent god.
Jon steps forward, haltingly, those coltish legs of his stumbling until he falls in front of him. Jonah leans forward, cupping Jon’s face, his thumb pressed to his jaw to tilt his head up.
“It’s too much,” Jon rasps, wrecked, and his pain tastes so sweet. “Elias–Jonah, I–it’s too much, I can’t–”
Jonah tsks, running his thumb down the prickly stubble on Jon’s sharp jaw. Jon’s glowing eyes focus blearily on him.
“It is a lot, isn’t it?” he says. “Feeling it all. Seeing it all.” He slides his hand up from that jaw, to tangle in that thick, silver-streaked hair. He pulls at it, so Jon is forced to tip his head up, to look at him, still on his knees. He looks good there. “But think of it as your reward, Jon. You’re my Watcher, my Archive, my best and most perfect creation. And you get to see everything.”
Jon shivers again and makes a low, wrecked noise, and Jonah grins, all teeth. “You’re mine, Archive,” he says, his hand tightening in his hair. “Look at this new world I’ve given you.” And it’s so, so good, so sweet, when Jon’s eyes go wide, intent, bright and glittering, and he sees.