Listen the timeline here doesn't exactly match that of the crossmare soulmates shots but Um um uh um ah um I wrote those oneshots nearly 3 years ago give me some slack

Anyway..

Because who doesn't love to know the other side of the story

For as long as she could remember she'd hated reptiles.

She could recall crying and screaming in her father's arm when she saw the snakes at the zoo, her mother's scolding voice echoing in her ears.

"For goodness sake pull yourself together Abigail - You're embarrassing me."

She had tried her best to be brave, but she hated the way their scales clicked, the way their tongues flickered out to taste the air, the way their soulless eyes stared dead into your heart.

Her brother had taken her fear as an opportunity to torment, and had bought a pet lizard two months after her first meltdown. It had been a vicious looking bearded dragon named Jackson, and she hated him. He'd once made it bite her, and she'd screamed so loud it earned a slap from her mother.  She'd desperately done her best to avoid Jackson, but her brother would forever leave him on her bed, or in the bathroom sink for her to discover. She hated him for it.

Reptiles were vile creatures with cold blood and no heart. She avoided them like the plague whenever possible, and avoided trips to the zoo all together. They were cruel places after all.

It had always been a silly worry of her's that her soulmate might be a reptile fanatic. The type that would sling a snake around their neck as if it were jewellery before cheerily defrosting squashed mice to feed to their illegal government killing machine lizard.

Dream, thankfully, wasn't that sort of person. His brother might have the possibility to keep a snake; and his soulmate looked like he'd collect taxidermy spiders, but Dream was perfect. He kept everything clean, and seemed to have a strong distaste for most animals, meaning no reptiles, and no breakdowns. As a result, the apartment was a safe, comfy place for her to live and love. It had been that way for several blissful months, just her, Dream and Nightmare. Then everything changed.

A reptile had slithered its way into their home.

She could remember the day perfectly, months ago, when she'd been sat in the bedroom typing on her computer to fulfil the next months mangers tasks - she ran a small beauty business. She had heard murmuring voices flowing through the hallway, and she remembered pausing her work on the spreadsheet to look up. The bedroom door had been ajar, and she watched as Nightmare had stepped past. The man had walked with a slow grace, as if he held the title of a king. He had ignored her, speaking about a spare room. Then behind him, a stranger had walked past. He was small, his body nimble and footsteps light. Their eyes had met for only a second, yet all she could register was a dead, soulless stare. The eyes of a reptile.

A week later, the man had moved into the apartment. She had been horrified.

The man was called Killer, a name that had made her uncomfortable from the moment she heard it. He had glided around the sofas like a snake exploring its territory, his sharp tongue flicking out to dampen his lips. The sight had made her sick.

When he spoke, it was sly and calculated, words drawn out in such a way that it sounded like a hiss. She'd done her best not to cringe when they finally introduced themselves to each other. His hand had been cold to the touch when she'd shook it, and his eyes once again bore no indication of life. While Dream's sparkled with flecks of gold, yellow and orange, Killer's were void. Even Nightmare had a slither of blue for a pupil, but something about Killer wasn't right. Dream had told her many times that he did have pupils, and they were allegedly silver, yet she'd never seen them. Not once.

For the first week of their new living arrangement she'd tried to ignore him altogether. Yet she soon found that task to be rather difficult. With Killer moving in to their spare room, they had lost their office space. However it was mainly Nightmare and Dream who had used it, while she herself was happy enough to use her cosmetics desk in the bedroom. The living room was substantial, so the left corner had been taken over by two desks that had been split by a screen. She had picked it out herself, and could remember feeling childishly giddy when Dream said he liked her design choice. The issue was that she couldn't always stay hidden in the bedroom all day, and eventually she'd have to leave the bedroom to make lunch, get a drink or simply stretch her legs. Almost every single time Killer would be there. The man didn't have a real job, instead buying things and reselling them on eBay and Amazon. As a result his room was full of boxes of (in her opinion) junk.

When she'd do everything in her power to make it clear she wasn't expecting conversation, Killer somehow found a way to believe that she was interested in talk. Not even turning her back to him worked.

"Your hair looks different today - have you cut it?"

She would feel his breath faintly on her shoulder, sharp claws tracing through her blond hair. It made her want to throw up, but she resorted to neatly side stepping him. "I just blew it out on this morning."

"It lookss.. good."

His words were complimentary, yet the tone said otherwise, and she always felt that he were trying to convey a different, sinister comment she could never quite grasp. It was as if she had something he desired, and when he commented on it, he were trying to harness its essence.

After that encounter, she kept away from the kitchen more often.  It was frustrating, because she often worked from home, and Killer hardly left the apartment except for a smoke. That made avoiding him a lot harder. Both Dream and Nightmare had office jobs at the same company, and worked a healthy mix between commuting and using their makeshift living room office. Both the brothers were seeking promotions, and both of them would make great candidates in different ways. While Dream would cater to the people and make more satisfactory decisions on company policies, Nightmare would cut down customers and concerns over benefit the company financially. If they combined morals they'd make the perfect CEO, but for argument's sake she always sided with Dream. Not just because he was her partner, but because his morals were kinder. Money wasn't always everything.

She could recall the first time he'd bought up her dislike towards Killer to Dream, her boyfriend had been quite annoyed. But not at her, no. The next day she'd hung by the bedroom doorway as she listened to Dream hiss at the man to leave her alone, or else. It had made her stomach flip with butterflies, and when he'd returned she'd kissed him so hard her lungs could have burst.

Killer left her alone for a while after that, silent around her for almost two weeks before they spoke again. It was around that time that he'd discovered his soulmate, Outer. Their comfortable apartment became more crowded, and Abi grew wearier still. At least Killer was distracted for a week or so with Outer, a man who thankfully had a job, but not a very successful one. Still, it helped with the rent.

But Killer came to her once more, his reptilian eyes burning into her as he studied her across the kitchen counter. She remembered it was dark, and she had wanted a glass of water. Killer had been sat at the breakfast bar, playing with his leftovers from the day before.

He watched her as she poured her glass, a sharp pointed tongue flicking out to lick up a dot of sauce from the corner of his mouth. He was alone, Outer asleep in their room already. Or at least she assumed. She knew he was staring, even with her back turned to him. Yet it was only when she turned that he finally made a remark.

"That's a pretty mark."

Her chest tightened for a moment, a hand instinctively reaching out to cover up the bruise on her neck. She had received it last night in a session of passion and promises. The comment had made her increasingly uncomfortable, and she'd scowled at him.

"Mind your own business, freak." She hadn't meant to be quite so rude, but the man was beginning to become more unbearable by the day.

He grinned suddenly, eyes burning into her. She remembered the way he tipped his head to the side, tapped at his plate with a curved finger and hummed.

"To think such a pretty mouth could say such ugly words."

Fumbling, she had reached for her glass of water, ready to leave. But her nerves got the better of her, and she'd fumbled. The glass tumbled, falling in slow motion off of the counter and towards the floor. It shattered, glass shooting across the kitchen floor. She couldn't help but scream in surprise.

Footsteps had thundered through the hallway in an instant, and Dream had been there to grasp her, eyes flicking from her, to the glass covered floor, and then to Killer. She needn't explain.

"G-get the fuck out-"

He had snarled, staring at Killer with the ferocity of an animal, his hands protectively cupping her shoulders. She remembered looking at him, and noticing something different. Something about his expression- his eyes changed, as if he were trying desperately to overcome some sort of inner turmoil. She'd seen the look before; when they were first paired as soulmates. She knew something wasn't right with his reaction, and it was only when she spoke to his sly brother that she found out why. Dream was gay - or had been. Or was? She didn't like to think about it. He hadn't expected a female soulmate, but their bond couldn't be helped. She knew he felt guilty when he realised she knew the truth; he had that same twisted look in his eyes. But that was years ago now, and Dream loved her. Sure their bedroom activities were a bit clumsy and forced at first, but soon enough she swore she'd never had better sex.

Watching them both cooly, Killer licked some sauce off of his finger (which she had thought was disgusting) and stood up.

"I do apologise."

Neither of them had spoken, watching as Killer had slunk out of the front door and disappeared. She didn't care for how long; just as long as he was gone.

Dream had cleared up the glass before guiding her back to their bedroom where he'd tucked her in and slipped into bed beside her, smoothing the hair out of her face and apologising to her on behalf of Killer. He'd promised he'd kick him out and make him find somewhere else to live, but looking back on the memory, that had never happened.

She had fallen asleep with her head to his chest, listening to the beat of his soul. But she remembered being it faster than usual, as if panicked. She couldn't help but wonder if it was because of the same reason his eyes had looked so conflicted.

—————

Killer had briefly left them alone a while later, when Nightmare had the fortune to find his soulmate. He was an American man, the kind of guy who'd watch American Psycho and claim it was a way of life to follow. He didn't seem to think much of women, and overall was rather cold. But he matched perfectly with Nightmare, who shared most of his morals, and they clicked instantly. She had always thought they were lucky to meet - they lived on opposite sides of the world, on different continents entirely. If not for a misfortunate shortcut and some awful weather, they might have never met.

Killer had been distracted, and seemed to idolise Cross (he had always looked up to Nightmare too). The couple didn't seem to mind him hanging around, and they would occasionally do joint gym sessions. Such sessions were only necessary for skeletons if they wanted to keep up their ecto body's shape. Cross was quite keen on such activities, and Nightmare would occasionally join. But he wasn't much of a people fan, so within a week or two, he left Cross and Killer to do their own thing.

While he was still the same creep, he seemed to hold back on the distasteful comments for a while. However she would occasionally catch him and Dream caught in some sort of argument. God she wished it was about kicking the lizard out.

The apartment, though crowded, managed to function. She wished Dream was stricter on rent though; she payed a quarter of it, while Dream and Nightmare made up almost all the rest. Outer's small allowance was limited, Killer's was even less, and Cross - being from America - had no job in England. He didn't know how long he was staying, so hadn't started looking for a source of income. His businessman boyfriend spoilt him enough.

Ideally, the apartment would take four people, so six was a squeeze. But this was their home, and she wasn't considering moving out just so some strangers could have more space. Of course in the future she'd love for her and Dream to get their own little house with a garden full of flowers with dishes of milk for passing hedgehogs. But they were still so young, and would have to work for years to earn enough to buy a family home in London. They had looked at other, close by cities and towns, but nothing had clicked.

At least, with all the people, Killer didn't have quite as much time to bother and irritate her. However, it was merely a honeymoon stage.

The next time Killer had made her uncomfortable, Dream hadn't been so protective. It was maybe another two months later when it had happened, after a suspiciously long grace period. She had been sat at home lounging on the double bed when Dream had come home from work early. He'd been stressed, worked up and irrational. They didn't have sex often, but when they did she loved it. By the time she'd stumbled to the bathroom for a shower, she was too lightheaded to realise the apartment hadn't been empty.

Stood in the hallway, a spent cigarette held between his fingers, Killer watched her. A coat was slung over his shoulder, as if he'd only just come in from a walk.

"I don't think I've ever heard you that loud; he must be good."

His words had made her gut drop, the happy butterflies in her stomach twitching and dying in a tragic pile. Stood in front of him, in nothing but an oversized shirt, her hair all messy and no make up on, she suddenly felt incredibly ugly. She recalled looking to Dream - he would sort Killer out, wouldn't he?

"He's just teasing, Abi. Ignore him." He'd stepped out of the bedroom with a tired frown, his shorts resting dangerously low on his hips. It was impossible not to notice how Killer stared. Dream had squeezed her hand and tugged her along, ignoring Killer all together. But Abi couldn't. How could she?

Even once the door to the bathroom was closed she felt like he was still watching them. Even when they both got in the shower and washed away their sins, she felt he was on the other side of the foggy glass with his cruel grin.

It was the same grin Jackson would have before he bit her.

After that incident, over a period of long months, things started to go south. Dream didn't speak to her as much as he used to, and their bedtime activities all but faded into memories. He'd still cuddle her and kiss her when they slept, but each kiss become more and more distant until gradually it didn't seem they were worth giving anymore. She had wondered if it were Killer's fault, if he had made him uncomfortable - he was a private man after all. But each time she'd tried to ask him he'd waved her off, muttering that Killer was a nuisance and nothing more.

The odd tension grew and grew until she couldn't stand the sight of Killer. As far as she was concerned, he was the reason Dream was growing distant. She wished with all her heart that they could kick him out of the apartment and live without him. Life would be so much better without the snake. Yet it seemed he'd woven himself deep into the fabric of their home, leaving his mark and claiming his territory.

Unlike his partner, Outer was a nice guy. He was utterly devoted to space, and could name every star in the sky if you gave him enough time. He was sweet, a kind man that didn't have many negative qualities. While she loved him dearly, it stressed her out that Outer thought Killer was the perfect man. To him he was affectionate, thoughtful and funny. And, despite her insisting she didn't need to know, he was great in bed - not one for vanilla activities.

It made her worry. Why did Killer act so odd around her? In Outer's eyes he was brilliant, yet to her he was a slimy snake bunched and ready to strike. Was there something about her he didn't like? She didn't understand what she might have done to cause such dislike. Even Cross, who was a clear misogynist and woman hater, managed to act more civil towards her than Killer. It was as if he had decided from the moment he'd met her, that he'd hate her.

For months she couldn't figure out why, stressing over the possible reasons he might harbour such a dislike towards her. And then he'd said something to her, something that sent her mind spinning with awful, dreadful possibilities.

"You're lucky he looks at you like that."

It had been after the brothers had been on a business trip for four days, she had greeted Dream at the door to be swept up into his arms and kissed. She remembered feeling elated; electric. He hadn't kissed her like that in forever. It was only when he placed her down and murmured about putting his suitcases away that she realised Killer had been watching.

Dream had left them in the living room, and she'd wished with all her might that Killer would busy himself asking Nightmare pointless questions. But he ignored them, staring at her unblinkingly, like a snake. Then he'd spoken those words. The words that send her mind spiralling into an inescapable pit. Why had he said that? Why? She desperately tried to think of how Dream looked at her. It was a warm, affectionate look. Maybe it had been slightly more loving than usual, maybe he had tipped his head to the side a little, gave a chuckle maybe. But she soon came to the awful conclusion that there was nothing particularly special about the way he'd looked at her that day, it was simply how he greeted her.

Killer wanted to be greeted like she did.

The initial idea confused her, did he want Outer to pick him up and swing him around with kisses each time he came through the door? Was he jealous of the dynamic her and Dream shared? No, that wasn't it. It couldn't be. For him to dislike her so thoroughly over something so trivial would be stupid. All Killer would need to do would be to simply communicate with Outer and let him know his needs. No. For him to dislike her and say such a comment, it was clear he desired something much more complicated; something he couldn't have.

Then it clicked. Killer did want to be greeted by the door, he did want to be looked at in that special way, he did want to be kissed and held and told he meant the world. But not by Outer.

He wanted Dream.

When the idea first occurred to her she shoved it away sharply, appalled that her own mind could even think of such a thing. She convinced herself that she was simply paranoid, that she was overthinking and stressed. Killer had his soulmate, and she had hers. There was no reason for either of them to want any different.

When you find your soulmate, your relationship is bound by law and you are left to live the rest of your live with the person of your dreams. She had heard stories of utter devotion; people committing crimes and headed to jail, only for their soulmate to commit the same sin for the singular reason of being united with their partner behind bars. She had heard stories of soulsick partners forced apart by work and pushed overseas by the navy, military or government. People say  that once you find your soulmate, forced separation is worse than death. So why, why, would Killer want anything to do with Dream?

For a month she did everything she could to ignore the signs. When Dream had spent so long looking for a nail salon only to come back smelling of smoke. At first she had no reason not to believe him. But later, when she sat on their bed and listened to the sound of the shower, with his sweater in her hands, she smelt the smoke. It was unique, different. She used to smoke, and had gotten used to the tobacco scent. Nowadays she preferred vapes, and was trying to cut down on smoking all together, but she could still pick apart different cigarette brands.

Killer liked the old cigarettes, the ones without health regulations and blank boxes instead of depictions of rotting lungs. She'd never smoked one of them, but she knew the smell. They were more ashen, earthy. New cigarettes smelt somewhat artificial. Now it wasn't to say that only Killer bought that specific type of cigarettes, and no one else in the world did. But when she'd hurried her face into his sweater and breathed, all she could smell was Killer.

She remembered the night before that Dream had implied they could get intimate tonight, and she'd waited for him to exit the shower, pyjamas covering her favourite lingerie. But Dream had waved her off, apologising half heartedly that he was tired and maybe they could do it the next night. She had attempted the mask betrayal as disappointment. Of course Dream could change his mind about whatever he wanted, but she'd listened to him stay awake for hours after he claimed sleepiness, and he had still laid awake when she'd eventually drifted off at near-midnight.

Since then, she had sworn that she'd caught glimpses of the two of them muttering together. It was never more than a moment that they'd speak, and they'd always separate the moment anyone else entered the room. But she saw it. She knew she saw it. She noticed the way Killer would watch him across the room, the way Dream would glance at him, the way Killer's touch would linger on his shoulder if he pat it. Each time she noticed the little actions she would irrationally try to rationalise their reasons. Maybe they'd finally become friends. After all, Dream hadn't thought much of Killer when they'd first met. She remembered he said he felt 'funny' and 'odd' the first time they'd spoken. Killer had always been Nightmare's friend, and their hobbies didn't exactly match up friendship wise. But maybe they'd finally become civil.

Something told her it was something else. The way Killer looked at Dream was different, so much more than platonic. It scared her. What was he planning to do? It could potentially rip apart two relationships for the sake of selfish desire. Yet she didn't doubt he'd do it, he had the cold, calculating mind of a reptile. He only had time to think for himself.

From then on, she did her best to ensure she was in the room whenever Killer and Dream were together, and she'd analyse - to the best of her ability - what they were thinking. But it was simply impossible. When she was in the room they would hardly speak to each other, and when they did it was for no more than several seconds.

Some days she'd feel certain they were both up to something behind her back, and then she'd watch the way Killer held Outer, kissed him and held him and she suddenly wouldn't feel so confident. It seemed the man had the ability to pour all the love and affection needed into his partner while also eyeing up her soulmate. Or was he? Thinking about it too much made her head hurt.

Her head hurt so much that she went to Nightmare about it. She'd hoped to ask him to put his foot down and kick Killer out. Or to at least force him to get a proper job. That way she hoped he'd be too busy with actual work to bother her and Dream.

She had stepped along the corridor to their room, footsteps soft beneath her cotton padded socks. The door had been slightly ajar, and she couldn't help but be curious. She didn't announce herself right away, instead letting her fingertips rest cooly on the door handle.

Mutterings rose from within, and her heart stilled at the mention of Dream's name. The words 'foolish' and 'irrational' followed, and before she could stop herself she'd pushed the door open and stumbled inside.

"Why's Dream irrational-?"

Sat on the bed, Nightmare looked to her in surprise.  On the right side, Cross swung lazily back and forth on the twisting office chair. He regarded her as always; like an inconvenience to his day. They were both dressed down, in opposite colour hoodies. While joggers covered Nightmare's legs, Cross liked to wear shorts right up to winter where the frost bit at your joints and numbed your bones.

"None of your business princess." Cross was the first to speak.

Her lip curled in distaste, and she shot him a sharp scowl. "I wasn't asking you."

Being undermined always irritated the other, and she was certain he hated her more each time she did it, but the brief frown on his face was worth it every time. Her attention soon turned to Nightmare, arms crossed over her chest. "I know something is up with him, I'm not stupid, so why don't you just tell me?"

Nightmare stared at her wordlessly, his eye flicking to the bedroom door which still lay widely ajar. The message was swiftly understood, and she was quick to close the door. She didn't lock it though; she didn't quite trust herself to be alone in a room with them, even if they were her 'flatmates'. Once she'd done that, he finally spoke.

"If you think Dream is up to something, it would be better if asked him yourself, rather than let your doubts boil away in your pretty head." Just like with Killer, his compliments always seemed condescending. Outer seemed to be the only genuine man in the apartment at the moment.

"If I ask him he'll avoid answering - he's been like this for months."

Nightmare seemed to have already lost interest, his eye instead flickering around the decor of the room. It was mostly dark, a mixture of greys and the odd royal purple. It suited them. "My brothers lack of communication is hardly my fault."

"I think it's because of Killer."

This time he did pay attention to him, pausing before he turned to her. "You believe that your boyfriend is acting distant because of Killer?" His voice was always smooth and subtle, but it was clear that his tone was scornful.

When she heard him say it, she suddenly realised how stupid it may have sounded. "I- I have my reasons to- to believe-" She worried that she had been hallucinating, that she'd been making it up in her mind. But something in their expressions told her she hadn't shot in the dark. Cross looked curious, and Nightmare ignored her gaze suddenly.

She had been right.

"Tell me- you have to tell me-" Her words caught in her throat. "I'm nnot stupid- they're both out right now shopping, and  Rebecca messaged ten minutes ago saying they were downstairs s-so god I don't want to know what's taking them so long- I really don't-"

Cross watched her with keen interest, as if she were a sort of zoo exhibit to be gawked at. She wanted to slap him, but what little progress she'd made in the conversation would be lost.

"Like I said.." Nightmare's voice caught her by surprise, and she watched as he got to his feet slowly. "If you think Dream is doing something behind your back, confront him about it."

As silence hung in the air, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment, and her neck twisted to follow it. As if transfixed, the three of them stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room.

Killer stepped in first, making sure his first priority was known as he stepped over to Outer at the sofa. He gripped his hands and tugged him up, a kiss pressed to his surprised lips. He then guided him towards the kitchen, rooting through the cupboard until he found the bread and popped it in the toaster.

Abi watched him like a hawk. She didn't understand. Her worries had clear grounds, yet whenever she saw Killer with Outer, they looked like the perfect couple. But she knew her eyes didn't make up what happened whenever Dream was in the room.

The toast popped. He still wasn't there.

"Dream?" Her voice sounded childish, and she didn't look to see how Cross might mock her. Shuffling sounded from the corridor and moments later Dream appeared, the shopping held in a bag at his hand.

She could hardly remember greeting him, greeting him with a hug and murmuring something around the lines of "don't be silly" when he'd mentioned the time it had taken for the shopping. But something in the back of her mind itched. That itch had turned into a scratch when she'd mentioned Rebecca, seeing the way Dream's glance had turned somewhat anxious. She had caught him in something, but she didn't know what.

More than once she caught his gaze flick carefully over to Killer. His expression was as always, conflicted.

"We could always kick him out.." The statement was so sudden, yet she'd never felt more confident to murmur a suggestion into his ear.

Dream had reacted like always, with a lame joke that he'd think about kicking him out sometime, followed by halfhearted comments to aid her longing to move out and get a house.

She felt sick to her stomach. And when she finally sat down to eat her cereal, she found she couldn't stomach a bite. Especially not when she watched Nightmare guide the other away so swiftly. Cross continued to watch her like a zoo exhibit, but she refrained from throwing the bowl of milk at him.

She would find out what was going on, discover what Killer had done poison her lover. There'd be a cure; a way to reverse it. There had to be.

But when her gaze caught Killer's she felt her heart plummet, throat closing up sharply. He was stood with Outer, arms around him as he lazily hummed a song and swayed with the other by the window. His posture was that of a gentleman, a lover, a perfect partner.

But looking coldly at her, eyes a black void, a cold blooded reptile stared back.

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This is different from my normal writing but oh boy I'm so pleased with this

So now you know the other side of the story 😩 I suppose this chapter is here to show you that Abi isn't the villain really, Killer is the devious bastard. She's trying to live her perfect romance life and Killer is doing everything in his power to ruin it for her.

I hope you liked the whole reptile metaphor, I thought of it suddenly while pouring a pint at work 😍

Anyway, sorry for the late update, I've been on holiday 😎

What do you want next???????????

-Jess-