The Monster Next Door
Summary: The Monster Next Door, in which Edward Nashton watches his partner from next door, lovingly, fervently, obsessively… No! Not that word, he isn’t obsessed, never.
Ratings & Warnings: Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence
Relationships: Dano!Riddler/Original Male Character
Chapter 1: Inamorato's Very Own Angel
Notes & First Chapter Summary: His inamorato, his admired, beloved angel that graced the Earth with their very simple presence… His darling love of his life! Has just blindly entered his cage, unknowing of the monster that hides within the shadows.
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Flickering lights, a vulgar waft of sulfur stuffing his nose and rushing to his brain; Edward was home. His pounding boots ceased at the start of a tiring staircase, his heart pounded with each step he took. His job was done for now and he could crawl into bed, reminiscing and bathing in the blood of politicians, and the tears of their wives and children.
As soon as he unlocked the door to his home and its creaky floors and molding windows, Edward exhaled a choked breath, the sulfur dwindling away as the door shut and was locked up once again. His boots thumped against the wall and his coat fell beside them all at once. He inhaled briefly, the cold dead air rushing into his lungs. Home.
“Ha…” Edward exhaled again, only this one was slow and left him craving more apartment air to breathe. “Ha.” The corner of his lips turned up and his clothed feet dragged him to his naked mattress, the sheets and pillows absent to leave a couple of worn blankets as substitutes.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Edward crashed onto the mattress, it caving beneath his weight with no support. He scooped up a blanket into his arms to lay his head against, rubbing his cheek against the comforting deteriorating fabrics. His hand went to his trousers, retrieving his one of many phones. It lit up and greeted his tired eyes, unlocking with the simple scan of his thumb.
There they were. In all of their beauty, in graceful slumber and nakednesses to Edward’s prying eye, laid his inamorato in a tiny screen.
“You beautiful angel, you.”
He moved in months ago. He wasn’t local to the city of Gotham; he was a complete stranger with everything to lose. But Edward made sure not to let him stray into the darkness, to be taken in by rats of their shattered society. Yes, Edward made sure of it. It was his top priority to lead him to safety, to Edward’s neighboring apartment that remained vacant for years. His stranger, whom he yearned for, was nudged into this apartment, dragged in by a rope. A rope that was pulling strings behind a computer, asking for favors, throwing ads in his stranger’s face, spending nights and mornings preparing for his stranger’s arrival.
This stranger was naked, facing the bright sky, stepping over the cracks Edward hid beneath. Edward paved the path for this stranger to take, to give this apartment a shot, to move in and revel in the safety of their travels and new home. The apartment needed work, definitely, but Edward was sure this was better than what waited outside in the gray world; the gray world that swallowed you whole, and either rose the hairs that covered every inch of your body or changed you.
What waited outside stood defeated when the stranger, Edward’s inamorato, walked out of the apartment building entrance, when they walked to and from errands, home, because Edward was there. He stood in the gray, where it changed you. He became this shadow that collected stains and rotted flesh; this shadow that became the sponge to soak up puddles for his beautiful angel that walked the grounds of Earth. If it made him ugly, a monster, Edward didn’t care. He relished in all he could do to help his beautiful angel. It engulfed him in this flaming arousal that lasted for days, weeks, months, tingling his body in a way like no other. It was a celestial being, whispering, lips brushing against every inch of his flesh. A warm hug in the cold, dead air. It was intoxicating. This was his reward for serving as a guardian. He was his inamorato’s angel just as much as they were to him. Even more so, with the technology that existed… The technology that could keep a permanent eye on his inamorato, his angel, his beautiful god he was sure to worship and keep safe until he died, or realistically, until he wound up in Arkham.
Edward’s one of many phones slipped from his grasp as he fell into a deep slumber, a slumber much needed after his whereabouts in a city like Gotham. It fell in the crack between his mattress and the wall it slumped against; the screen dimming on his darling angel who stirred and drooled in their sleep, resting comfortably on their mattress that supported their weight, their mattress that wore a sheet over its body and pillows, so many pillows.
Edward dreamt later that night of all the chaos he left behind for the living politicians that scoured for safety when they knew deep inside they provided themselves none, just as they did for the public. Silly sounds slipped from his throat and out of his mumbling mouth, moans of satisfaction and simple chuckles. These politicians would soon face the same fate as Don Mitchell had, and Edward’s beautiful inamorato would fall right into his lap. His plan would not fail.
Or would it <?>
