Chapter Text
Edward Kapelput-Addams was born Edward Nashton, the son of a drunk factory worker and a bitter store clerk with crushed dreams of becoming an actress. Both of his parents were born and raised in the same small town that Edward himself was born in. His childhood was not the happiest as he was the anvil that crushed his mother's dreams of being famous and was never deemed an acceptable son by his father.
At age sixteen he had graduated high school early despite his father's claims that he was cheater, a liar, and a retard, and left his town forever. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly Edward emerged from that hell as Edward Nygma. Except, his butterfly was more of a moth, unwanted and un-admired for dully colored wings. He got a scholarship to Gotham U and became a forensics scientist at the GCPD.
He thought he was doomed to forever remain invisible except to those who sought to mock him. Then he met Kristen Kringle, and while she never seemed to return his affections she was never as rude as the officers he was forced to associate with on a daily basis. Then due some unpleasant events surrounding Ms. Kringle’s current boyfriend (at the time, she had so many at the precinct, never staying single long), Ed found himself defending her against his abusive ways. He knew there was a reason he despised the officers at the GCPD, they were all just like his father. However, the altercation ended with him stabbing the man, for self-defense, and because the bastard deserved it.
"Well," he shrugged, "at least I know how to get rid of evidence." So, with a dark smile Ed collected the officer’s body, and damn he was heavy, and went about his business of chopping the corpse into smaller more manageable pieces.
Ed had always had darker impulses and thoughts, perhaps that’s why he was interested in forensics and medical examinations. Nobody questioned someone performing an autopsy, that was fine; but dissecting road kill in the shed when he was eight was abnormal. Either way after his father found out he insured Ed never did anything so, “Damn creepy and weird, you little fucking psychopath!”.
He hadn’t understood then, and he didn’t now, why what he did was so wrong. He hurt her, had hurt him, so he had killed him. It only seemed right. So he was rather put out when Kristen did not appreciate his act of devotion and his willingness to protect her upon learning of his crime. One rather disturbing argument later, in which she might as well have been his father for the things she called him, she was dead. He hadn't meant to kill her, or to hide her body at the GCPD. Hurt and anger had welled in his heart at how ungrateful she acted toward him for protecting her, and the dark voice in his head said he needed to shut her up before she got him arrested.
So he did, and she lay dead in his arms. He'd only meant to stop her from running, to get her to calm down. He could explain if she just calmed down, now she was dead, too calm, too quiet. He almost wished she was still alive to yell, to hate him, to call the police. Almost. His darker voice urged him not to cry, she didn’t deserve him, didn’t understand him. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t sick. She and his bastard father didn’t know a damn thing about him. With a sigh he packed her into the backseat of his car and drove to work at two AM, he’d had such high hopes for her and in the end she was a disappointment too.
He found himself unable to part with her hand after finding it lodged in the vending machine, so he preserved it, perfectly manicured and red painted nails and all. Then one day he met Oswald Cobblepot. He knew who he really was though, everyone knew the Addamses, a clan of people so strange they could scarcely be considered human. They had fascinated Edward in his youth and to have a Kapelput, a cousin of the Addamses standing in the GCPD was too good an opportunity to pass up.
And now four years later Edward stood in his robe and house slippers, Kristen's reanimated hand perched on his shoulder, staring down at his beloved husband. Laying in their giant four poster bed, on silk sheets, in their family’s manor.
"Look at him Kristen, I would die for him. I have killed for him, and would again.......Either way, what bliss," he sighed as Oswald's eyes fluttered open.
"Liebling," he purred, making Ed shiver.
“My love,” He replied.
Oswald sighed wistfully and stretched languidly in the bed. Ed smiled and crawled into bed with his husband pressing passionate kisses up his arm to his shoulder, across his collar bones, and neck, leaving bruises in his wake. He finally raised his head to press his lips to his husbands, right hand curling around the smaller man's exposed hipbone. Oswald's hand tightened in his hair pulling him down further.
"Oh, Edward, last night you were a beast. Untamed, unhinged, you frightened me."
Edward growled in response, dragging his fingernails across his lovers chest and soothing the red lines with his tongue.
"Do it again," the older man purred, watching with an adoring smile as Edward stripped and slid under the sheets.
Needless to say the mayor and his chief of staff were late to work that day.