Vlad Masters is an enigma.
he is an enigma shrouded in scars, steeped in poison and depravity and self-loathing. a beautiful mess of a beast with bloody red eyes and ectoplasm dripping from his fangs. he is a monster and a man and a ghost and a mistake, intoxicating and heady in his misery.
Vlad Masters is fucking dangerous.
and Penelope Spectra realizes this far too late.
~*O*~
someone is screaming in the distance and Vlad is covered in blood and there's so much misery in the air that she can't think, can't breathe for the electric power surging through her chest, and Penelope would be giddy with excitement if the sight before her wasn't so fucking horrifying.
he keeps laughing.
he's torn to shreds and holding a fucking heart in his hand, blood and ectoplasm spattered across his cheeks, and Vlad just keeps on cackling. it's a harsh sound and it rings like glass shattering. she can see his eyes – bloody and pupil-less – and they're haunting. panicked and giddy with a sick kind of euphoria. like a torture survivor who finally managed to escape the chains, beat the master, again and again until blood was slick on bruised knuckles.
the corpse on the ground is steaming in the December air.
it used to be an animated man, one whose inventions nearly peeled her into oblivion, one who loved fudge and ham and worshiped the ground his wife walked on. the wife who couldn't seem to stop shrieking.
Vlad keeps laughing.
she's made something more than just a monster
~*O*~
the moon is cold overhead and Halloween whispers come play with us, Penny. . . .
the broken things are crying. . .
she listens to her baser instincts and then hones them to razor-edges, hunts for her prey and remains vicious. tenacious. but there's a catch. she's got to stay pretty. vivacious. painted in peach skin and crimson hair and green eyes.
broken things flock to that which makes them smile.
after all, what is the purpose of beauty if not to bring a smile?
~*O*~
do you hear them? the voices?
listen.
he's coming.
~*O*~
it nearly bowls her over when she passes, his despair.
emotions have flavor, for those who are not savvy in the ways of the emotiphage. joy tastes like honey, thick and syrupy. anger is chili peppers and rage, charred meat. envy is sour, lemons and granny apples. sadness is blue raspberry lollipops.
and misery?
misery is chocolate, sweet and light and coating her tongue, mixed with thick caramel despair.
the taste hits her like a freighter. a delicacy for a connoisseur.
so Penelope Spectra turns to face her next meal, her next source of power thrumming in time with her core. . .
and he's beautiful.
a tall man, broad in the chest and wrapped in dense muscle. blue skin. black hair swept into devil horns. from a distance his fangs look massive, gleaming with venom, and she knows that they'll be even bigger up close.
and his eyes!
red, red, red, the color of blood illuminated iridescent, awash with tears and filled with rage and beautiful.
she asks his name.
Vlad Masters.
it tastes like anguish – blood blossoms and copper pennies.
~*O*~
there are purple fingerprints ringing her neck and a split in her lip, but Penny doesn't want to leave.
not yet.
she's not ready. he's not ready.
she's beginning to panic, trapped in the all-encompassing suffocation of his obsession and his cruelty and the demons trapped in the steel-plate walls of that brilliant mind.
because Vlad Masters is exacting, methodical, scientific. but he's also manic, depraved, shattered, and Penelope Spectra may be the most talented emotiphage (she was once a psychiatrist) in the Ghost Zone but she's wondering if this meal will be her second death.
because, yes, Vlad Masters is manic and, yes, Vlad Masters is cruel. he doesn't hesitate to bash her across the face if she says something to war with his perceptions, doesn't hold back when he grips one of those massive hands around her throat and hurls her into a wall. she spills harsh truths and cruel realities and he retaliates with ectoplasmic blasts and steel-fisted backhands. they scream and they fight and they fuck until his back is weeping red and she can't walk. some days she lays in his bed, cries and cries and cries until she feels like her head might explode because she brought this upon herself.
it's a sick sick game they play, the witch and the demon.
but then those beautiful eyes crystallize, and he babbles out apologies.
and there's gentle fingers washing away the ectoplasm dripping from her nose.
and then he draws her a hot bath and washes her hair, and he kisses her bruised temples, and Vlad Masters dries her off, wraps her in soft luxurious sheets and his arms, buries his face in her hair, promises to be better.
the misery washing off him, the self-loathing, the determination – they're drugs and she's high and she fucking believes him.
and it happens again. . . .
and again. . . .
and again. . . .
~*O*~
she's come to realize that Danny Fenton isn't just an epic pain in the ass.
Danny Fenton is a genuinely good kid and the thought of what Vlad's about to do makes her nauseous.
she feeds on misery, yes, but if she didn't, she'd fucking die (that's a rationalization, sweetie) so, really, she's not a complete monster. she's never pushed someone to suicide (not true not true not true so sorry) and she will not feed on someone younger than thirteen because, honestly, she has some standards. teenagers are usually angsty little assholes anyway. it doesn't take much to get a good meal off a high-schooler.
but here's this kid, who fucking died in some sort of accident with a ghost portal, this kid who fights ghosts and tries - and fails - to keep up with his homework. a kid who attempts to learn from his mistakes and makes fucking puns during a fight and carries around that stupid thermos like his half-life depends on it. here's this kid named Danny Fenton who keeps himself a secret to protect the people he loves, a kid she tried to break not even a year ago.
he meets her in the abandoned hospital, saves classmates who mock and bully him, and when her shadow form slips away, reveals the damage to the human-suit beneath, this fucking kid looks horrified. she realizes her mistake too late, returns to being a bitchy shade and tries to ignore how her arms ache in the shape of hand prints and the angry plasma burn on the left side of her face.
"holy shit, Spectra, what happened?!"
Danny Fenton is a genuinely good kid whom she has strapped to a table in an abandoned hospital, and he's concerned about her.
"nothing that can't be fixed with a bit of you, Danny-boy."
and she wheels him into the suction aggressively, flips the switch to ignore how badly her hands are shaking.
(she notices Danny throws not a single punch in the ensuing battle, notices how he watches her with traces of panic and concern, and if she attacks him with more viciousness than was typically warranted, well, that's the fucking kid's fault.)
the plan fails.
Vlad holds her as she cries herself to sleep and the next day he breaks her ribs.
~*O*~
watch.
listen.
the clock is ticking in the walls.
~*O*~
it takes exactly three weeks to get into Vlad Masters's bed.
he is cunning and he is cold and he is so broken. the thrill of it is almost more than she can stand. but he is still a man, a man with beautiful blue eyes that sparkle like ice chips in december. calculating and shining with intelligence that makes this so much more fun. it's one thing to manipulate an idiot. it's another thing to sink into the mind of a warped genius.
but Penelope Spectra matches him step for step and the game of chess begins.
he snaps and snarls, claims that he doesn't need her, doesn't want her - move the pawns, protect the king. she responds with coos and sighs, points out that his little obsession is far from healthy - flaunt the knight, ready the queen for a surprise attack.
he lives alone in a castle in wisconsin and has no one to associate with but corporate flunkies, middle-aged men with sweaty bald heads and leering grins. and though he is practically frothing at the mouth over a certain Maddie Fenton, he is still a man. so Penelope flashes a little leg, leaves a few extra opalescent buttons undone, winks at him over the rim of her sunglasses while she weaves the web and manipulates the chessboard.
in the end, all it takes is a few bourbon sours and the revelation that she has a stupidly awkward laugh to make her broken beast take the bait.
it's sloppy and it's messy, and Vlad seems to obsess over control to almost the same degree as he obsesses over his precious Maddie.
but though he's a fucking terrible kisser, his tongue is talented for other things, and she adores the way his hands move over her ribcage and squeeze her breasts, the way his cock is thick but not too long and the fact that she can feel his pulse thump-thump-thumping beneath the heavy muscle of his chest. he finishes by biting down on her left shoulder, fangs gleaming, and with the fresh infusion of enraged self-loathing she feels invincible so she allows the trespass.
(there's venom pumping under her skin and her vision goes fuzzy for a few minutes, muscles lax in Vlad's grip, and later she notices that the bite scars even though she's a ghost and something like apprehension tickles in the back of her mind)
(she ignores it and retaliates by biting Vlad's clavicle the next time they fuck)
(he scars too)
~*O*~
Penelope Spectra has never been arrested before now, and for some reason the thought of being trapped in Walker's prison is less terrifying than the thought of returning to Vlad after witnessing his earlier rage.
the cuffs burn and chafe, but she thinks that might be because her wrists are already ringed by fingerprints, so she just stays in her shade form and keeps her mouth shut. these assholes don't need any leverage. she's heard the rumors, knows that the goons can scent weakness, but she takes solace in the fact that her reputation precedes her. most of the guards give her a wide berth, and Bullet looks at her like she might sprout horns and attempt to exorcise him.
ha - what a funny thought.
(she isn't the demon anymore)
they frog-march her into the warden's office, chain her to an uncomfortable straight-backed chair, and Walker enters with that stony texas grimace he's so well known for. he explains the rules. states that he is warden, judge, jury, and executioner - three times on the last part - as though she is unaware of who exactly he is and how precisely fucked she is. but Penelope is smart and Penelope is damn good at what she does, so she keeps her mouth shut until the moment is right.
"do you know why you're here?"
her lips are dry, cracked, and she licks them before answering. "i assume i broke one of your many rules, warden."
and then Walker's skull-like face stretches into a grin, and she thinks it would've been handsome were it not so fucking terrifying.
"you're here because i want Plasmius. word is around the zone that you and him Bit - it's the perfect way to get that jackass outta my business permanently."
(it scarred they bit each other and they scarred and she's so fucking stupid)
panic floods Spectra like poison because Vlad is already furious with her and this will NOT do anything to help her situation. but panic does nothing to solve problems. keep your head. think things through. find the solution in the shit-storm you've created, Penny, you've gotta do this.
"warden, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Vlad Plasmius is an associate, nothing more." her voice doesn't shake and she's impressed by her self-control.
Walker snorts - fucking prick - and invades her personal space, blunted nose mere inches from her own. "ya'll can't lie to me, sugar-tits. you reek like him. ya'll must go at it like rabbits."
she bristles. "i never said we weren't associates with benefits, warden. but beside that point, if you've got nothing to hold me on - which i know for a fact you don't - i would like to leave."
it happens without warning.
a large hand, almost exactly like Vlad's (her monster her lover her breaker hers) reaches up and electricity spasms down her form. she yelps in surprise and the shade-skin drops, leaving a bruised bloody Penelope sitting in a chair with wide eyes and a bite-scar glowing faintly on the white skin of her left shoulder. Walker looks startled by the black eye and the livid hand-prints around her neck. but then his eyes travel to the mark and they turn into fucking saucers.
"sweet fucking Christ, what the shit did ya'll do?!"
(being Bit isn't supposed to be so obvious and the marks are usually faint, but theirs look fresh and Penelope knows this isn't healthy but she needs him and his misery so the mark just keeps getting darker and deeper)
Penelope tries to ignore the fact that she is trembling. "i would like to go please."
Walker lets her leave without another word and when she returns to the manor, Vlad is waiting with a bottle of her favorite wine and a bouquet of purple hyacinths and red roses. he kisses her on the forehead, blue eyes like shattered diamonds, and his apology spills forth like a well-sung lullaby.
she notices his bite is deeper than hers and that tainted love tastes like Irish coffee.
they fall asleep curled so tightly together that she cannot tell whose limbs belong to whom, and the taste of chocolate lingering on her tongue makes her nauseous.
~*O*~
are
you
beginning
to
see?
of course you aren't
let's go deeper, shall we?
~*O*~
she drapes herself across his broad shoulders and admires the way his fingers manipulate the delicate components of his new weapon.
Vlad Masters is not the world's leading businessman due to shady dealings or sheer luck - no, he is there because he knows how to manipulate the chessboard.
he knows which strings to pluck, which strings to unravel, which threads to knot to make the music to his liking. knows the cogs that turn and the gears that grind. he's an engineer, a biologist, a mathematician, a physicist, an inventor.
if he knows something, he can use it.
strangely, watching him work has become one of her favorite pass-times. she likes watching him at his finest, brow furrowed in concentration and blue eyes intense as they narrowed in on the variables of a complex equation. he builds things that do the impossible. combines ectoplasm with tissues and builds sleek conglomerations of steel around them. he takes the natural laws of what he knows and bends them, twists them to a shape that suits his needs until they become something greater than they once were.
it's beautiful.
(he's beautiful and broken and all hers)
he puts the final touches on the circuit board, inspects the contraption from every angle, then places it on the workbench with a pleased noise. though, that last part might be because she's begun to comb her fingers through his thick hair, removing the top-knot he's put it in to smooth through strands of gleaming silver. he purrs like a contented kitten and she nuzzles the top of his head, tastes joy like sticky-sweet honey and inhales the scent of machining oil mixed with lemongrass shampoo.
(she could get used to this)
they stay like that for ten minutes before he turns and kisses her on the tip of the nose, retreats upstairs to take a shower, and leaves her to inspect the impossible weapon for herself.
(it's the only night that week they don't go to bed bloody, and as she curls against him and listens to the sound of his heartbeat a tiny part of her heart cries at the fact that it isn't always like this)
the next day he tests the weapon on some poor octopus ghost, and the thing fucking explodes, shrieking in agony all the while, and Vlad's expression is equal parts exasperated and indifferent as he steps over the mangled remains of what was once a sentient being.
"cheese logs - it was supposed to vaporize the stupid thing, not leave a mess in my lab."
Penelope is silent as she leaves but when she finally makes it to the bedroom, she collapses and stares numbly at Vlad's favorite picture on the wall. a picture of them at the county fair, her face scrunched up in laughter as he gnaws playfully on her cheekbone, cotton candy stuck in his beard.
(penny dear, aren't you doing so well?)
~*O*~
there is a monster who looks like Danny in the zone.
he is tall and broad in the chest, thickly muscled and handsome. his eyes are red and his skin is tinted slightly green, hair that twists upwards in a shock of white flames. the signature black-on-white suit a mockery of what was once a genuinely good kid as he tears a path of destruction through her home. the others dare not call him Danny, instead choosing to call him Phantom, as though the omission of the familiar first-name will do anything to distinguish between a monster and a boy who simply wants to protect his family from them.
Penelope knows better.
because this newcomer wears an older Danny's face but he smells like her Vlad, tastes that rage and despair and pain, charred steaks and blood blossoms and copper pennies. she catches a glimpse of him one day as he pushes towards Pariah's Keep, and she feels the mark on her left shoulder burn, an ache that doesn't want to go away. she isn't afraid, not really, until he stops in mid-air and begins searching with calculating eyes. shattered ruby eyes that pierce and burn and hold ten thousand secrets.
they turn to her and Penelope freezes like a rabbit caught by a wolf.
and he hovers in front of her for a solid five minutes, a hair's-breadth away, face contorted in an expression that she can't quite read. but the taste of sweet milk chocolate lays thick on her tongue as she looks at him. a massive hand lifts and brushes ever so gently across the side of her cheek, the one that isn't sore from an earlier confrontation that week.
"i killed you on accident in my time."
"i don't think this Vlad will do it on accident."
the monster who wears Danny genuinely good kid Fenton's face smiles at her, kisses her on the forehead, and he is gone.
~*O*~
the clock ticks.
tocks.
stops.
~*O*~
her throat hurts, feels like it's been split wide open, and idly Penelope realizes that she's screaming.
she clutches Vlad close to her body, cradles his head close to her shoulder, and the panic that is shrieking through her veins is almost too much to handle because holy fucking shit her Vlad has a hole in his chest, gaping wide open with bits of shattered ribs peeping through the torn muscle and shredded skin. and he's gasping, choking desperately for air that his shredded lungs can't take in, and one of those big hands comes up and cups the side of her face as she rocks him. he's gurgling, choking on blood, ice-crystal diamond eyes awash with tears and she's covered in crimson-green and screaming.
"i. . . l-love. . . y - "
and he can't finish the sentence because "fucking hell, you idiot, don't talk you don't have enough air for that. just breathe for me, Vlad, baby, i need you to breathe."
but the Fenton bazooka has done it's job flawlessly. and even though she presses hard on the wound, her hand isn't big enough to staunch the bleeding and something fucking crunches under her fingers when she pushes down and she thinks she's going to be sick. he can't die. not like this. not yet. he can't leave because she's not ready and he's all she's got, what keeps her beautiful (the mark on her shoulder burns) and he isn't allowed to die until she damn well says he can.
the light in those eyes fades to black and the screaming reaches a fever pitch and she can't let go of the body, won't let go, rocks him back and forth, strokes his hair and kisses his lips as they cool and presses their foreheads together. and the blood on her skin is getting tacky and it's pulling on the wounds that line her forearms and someone behind her keeps saying her name. Spectra Spectra Spectra - but that's not what she wants to hear. she wants to hear Penelope Penny princess precious (fucking bitch lying cunt goddamn whore) my dear my darling (witch temptress) but that's never going to happen again and, holy shit, why won't her body stop screaming?! it hurts.
it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts
(bring him back bring him back give him back love him)
"Penelope, darlin', you need to let him go. c'mon, sugar-tits, that's a girl. let 'im go."
someone's taking him. no. no no no no no they can't take him she needs him to be okay, to wake up and look at her and smile in that way that makes her stomach flop, and "LET ME GO LET ME GO GIVE HIM BACK VLAD!"
big hands pry her off, pull her thrashing and shrieking away from what is left of who was once her world. and she fights him like an animal with teeth and nails but the hands are stronger than she is (she hasn't eaten in days) and eventually they manage to pin her against a heavy-muscled chest.
she fights. and she fights. and she fights.
but Walker is a fucking prick, and he holds her tight, rocks her like a little child with a hand to the back of her head. let's her pound against the front of his chest even though her blows are directed exactly in the way to make him hurt.
she's so tired.
eventually, she gives up.
and she cries and cries and cries. . . .
"hush, now, hon'. i gotcha. let it out. it's gonna be alright. shhhhh - you're gonna be just fine."
(he's fucking lying)
Walker holds her so tight that she almost doesn't notice that Danny has tackled his mother and stares with wide, horror-struck eyes at the woman who was once one of his more dangerous enemies.
guilt tastes like tequila.
~*O*~
"why are you so determined to get revenge on Jack Fenton?"
Vlad's arms tighten around her waist. but he doesn't lash out, so that's good at least. instead he nuzzles in tighter, the heat radiating from his core soothing against the half-healed bruises littered along her back. their fingers weave together, and she can't help but smile as he kisses the very edge of the bite-mark on her left shoulder.
because the moon is full and round, warm summer wind fluttering the curtains to the Masters bedroom, and they haven't fought today, and Vlad holds her tight like she's everything precious in the world and this is nice. it's nice feeling like someone loves her (even though she feeds on him and he still loves his precious Maddie and the bruises on her throat still haven't quite healed) so she raises his hand to her lips, presses a kiss to the super-heated skin.
he's quiet for a moment.
"Jack and Maddie were my best friends. my only friends in the entire world. and he didn't even check to see if i was standing in front of that prototype portal before he turned it on. he knew those calculations were off. he knew that i wanted to run a safety check before we proceeded. but Jack didn't listen. and Jack didn't care. so now i'm a monster and he's married to the woman i loved more than anything."
(something in Penelope's chest cracks at that little confession)
the thick arms pull her in closer and his chest heats up even more, fangs grazing the back of her neck, and his voice deepens as he finishes his thoughts.
"they were my best friends and they ruined my life. he ruined everything. so now he has to pay."
they lay there in the quiet for another few minutes, Penelope small compared to Vlad's muscular torso but blade-sharp when compared to the jagged edges of his psyche. she turns over in his arms and tucks her head under his chin, catches a whiff of his favorite cologne. he purrs low in his chest and kisses her on the lips. long and slow, sweet and soft.
he's gotten much better at it.
Penelope smiles before he even pulls away, tastes Irish cream on her tongue, and hums as he presses their foreheads together. her eyelids are heavy, sleep closing in. he's warm. he's a perfect weight against her waist. and his eyes, fractured diamonds, tinge with just the slightest bit of red as he whispers.
"but i think you're the best thing that's happened since the accident."
she slips into sleep with the feeling of her core fluttering in her chest and the whispered "love you, princess" ringing in her ears.
~*O*~
tick.
tock.
the clock doth stop.
~*O*~
"Momma, how come i don't have a Daddy like everyone else?"
"sweetie we've talked about this. your Daddy had to leave before you were born."
"how come?"
"it's complicated, baby. grown up things."
"that's what you always say. . . . i'm sorry, Momma! i didn' mean ta make you sad! don't be sad!"
"i'm not sad."
"you're lying. you always taste like licorice when you're sad, and it's yucky. i don' mean to make you sad. honest."
"i know you don't."
she picks him up. chubby with baby fat, warm and soft, smelling of strawberry shampoo and tasting like cough medicine. his arms squeeze tight around her neck and she holds him firm, eyes stinging.
"i love you, momma."
he tastes like bubbly champagne. pure love. untainted. unconditional.
"i love you, too Vladimir."
~*O*~
(Danny Fenton watches from the sidelines)
(Danny Fenton has lost his mother, lost his father, lost his arch-enemy)
(Danny Fenton aches)
(he wills her to live)
(they both do)
~*O*~
Author's Note:
So. . . . I'm alive? I think?
Have some Misery Motivated. Again. I'm not entirely sure how I came up with this. It kind of just happened based upon a dream I had, and then it just blossomed from there. And as much as I love both of these characters - and, let's be honest, this pairing - I know deep down that it would never have a chance of being a healthy relationship. Neither Vlad nor Penelope has the mentality to be together like that.
I also have developed the slightest obsession with the thought that Spectra isn't as bad as she makes herself out to be? Like, she's super bitchy and excellent at what she does but deep down she knows that the only reason she feeds on negative emotions are the ones that she feels the most often. And I also have a head-canon that as much as she seems to hate teenagers, she utterly REFUSES to feed off of children. Because children aren't corrupted like adults yet, and their emotions are just so much purer.
Also slight notes of Walker/Spectra because fuck my sanity.
Maybe I'll add more. Maybe I'll keep this a one-shot.
What do you guys think?
As always, please leave a comment in the precious box below the cut, and thank you for taking the time to read this.
