DreamxReaderxNightmare
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The living room was absolutely resplendent with holiday cheer, every surface touched by the magic of the season. Garlands of pine and holly draped across the mantle, interwoven with twinkling fairy lights that cast a warm, golden glow throughout the space. The Christmas tree—a magnificent Douglas fir that had required both skeletons and considerable magical assistance to wrangle into the house—stood proudly in the corner, decorated with an eclectic mix of ornaments that perfectly represented your unusual household. Cheerful golden stars hung beside deep purple baubles, candy canes nestled against black and silver snowflakes, and right at the top, a star that seemed to shift between radiant gold and deep violet depending on the angle.
The fireplace crackled merrily, filling the room with warmth and the pleasant scent of burning wood. You were curled up on the plush sofa, wrapped in your favorite blanket, a steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in your hands. The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gentle, making the whole scene feel like something out of a storybook.
"THEY'RE STILL SLEEPING!" Dream's voice rang out with barely contained excitement, his voice dropping to what he probably thought was a whisper but was still clearly audible from the hallway. "Do you think they'll mind if we wake them? It's Christmas! CHRISTMAS, Nightmare!"
A deeper, more measured voice responded, dripping with fond exasperation. "Dream, they are quite literally sitting on the couch. Their eyes are open. They are, in fact, awake."
"Oh." There was a pause. "OH! MERRY CHRISTMAS, SWEETHEART!"
You couldn't help but laugh as Dream practically burst into the living room, his golden eyelights sparkling with pure, unfiltered joy. He was already dressed in a festive yellow sweater with a disturbingly cheerful reindeer on it, complete with a light-up nose that blinked intermittently. His golden magic seemed to shimmer around him more brightly than usual, responding to his excitement.
"Merry Christmas, Dream," you said warmly, setting down your mug as he bounded over to you.
He immediately pulled you into an enthusiastic hug, practically vibrating with holiday spirit. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for HOURS! Well, okay, maybe forty-five minutes, but it felt like hours! I made breakfast—cinnamon rolls, your favorite!—and I've been watching the presents under the tree and I'm just so EXCITED to see what everyone got and—"
"Dream." Nightmare's voice cut through the enthusiastic rambling as he entered the room at a much more dignified pace. He was wearing his usual attire, though you noticed he'd added a deep purple scarf that you'd given him last winter. His cyan eyelight fixed on his brother with amused tolerance. "Breathe. Metaphorically speaking."
"I don't need to breathe, we're skeletons—OH! But if I DID need to breathe, I would definitely need to take a breath right now because I'm just SO excited!" Dream released you from the hug but kept hold of one of your hands, bouncing slightly on his feet.
Nightmare moved to sit beside you on the couch, his tentacles curling comfortably behind him. One of them reached out to gently brush against your shoulder in greeting—his own quieter way of saying good morning. Despite his more reserved demeanor, you could see the subtle softness in his expression, the way his eyelight lingered on you with unmistakable affection.
"Merry Christmas, my dear," he said, his voice like dark velvet. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, a stark contrast to Dream's enthusiastic tackle-hug.
"Merry Christmas, Nightmare," you replied, reaching up to squeeze his hand.
"So!" Dream clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the cozy room. "Presents? Can we do presents now? Please? I've been so patient!"
Nightmare raised a brow bone. "You woke up at 5:47 AM and have been pacing the hallway for the past hour."
"Exactly! VERY patient!" Dream insisted, his grin somehow growing even brighter.
You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest at the familiar dynamic. "Yes, we can do presents now. But maybe I should have one of those cinnamon rolls first? Someone mentioned something about breakfast?"
"OH! Right! Yes! I'll get you one!" Dream practically teleported to the kitchen, and you heard the sound of plates clattering.
Nightmare settled more comfortably into the couch beside you, one of his tentacles curling loosely around your waist. "He's been insufferable since midnight," he said, but there was no real heat in his words—just deep, abiding fondness. "He wrapped and rewrapped his gifts at least three times to make sure they were 'perfect.'"
"That's sweet," you said, leaning into his side.
"It's Dream," Nightmare corrected, but he was smiling slightly. "Sweet is his default setting."
"And what's your default setting?" you teased.
His eyelight flickered with amusement. "Dashingly mysterious with a hint of danger."
"You're wearing a scarf I gave you and you helped Dream decorate cookies yesterday. You had frosting on your face for twenty minutes before you noticed."
Nightmare's expression shifted to something between dignified and embarrassed. "I was... allowing him to enjoy the activity. And the frosting was strategically placed."
"On your cheekbone?"
"...It was a very strategic cheekbone."
You were still giggling when Dream returned, carefully balancing a plate with a generously frosted cinnamon roll and your mug of hot chocolate, now topped with fresh whipped cream and chocolate shavings.
"Here you go! I made sure to add extra frosting because it's Christmas and calories don't count on Christmas, that's a scientific fact!" Dream announced, setting the plate in your lap with a flourish.
"Is it a scientific fact?" Nightmare asked dryly.
"Yes! I read it on a holiday card once, and holiday cards are very reliable sources of information!" Dream plopped down on your other side, effectively sandwiching you between the two skeleton brothers.
You took a bite of the cinnamon roll and made an appreciative sound. "Dream, this is amazing."
His eyelights literally sparkled. "Really? You think so? I tried a new recipe! I added a little bit of orange zest to the frosting and—"
"It's delicious," you confirmed, and Dream looked like he might actually start glowing brighter with pride.
Nightmare's tentacle gently squeezed your waist. "Finish eating, then we can begin the gift exchange. I'd rather not have frosting on the presents."
"That happened ONE time!" Dream protested.
"Last Christmas. And the Christmas before that. And—"
"Okay, okay, I get it! I'm enthusiastic!" Dream huffed, but he was grinning.
You ate your breakfast while nestled between them, feeling incredibly content. The tree lights twinkled, the fire crackled, and the two skeletons beside you kept up a running commentary—Dream pointing out various ornaments and recounting the stories behind them, Nightmare occasionally interjecting with dry corrections or observations.
Finally, you set aside your empty plate and brushed the crumbs from your hands. "Alright, I'm ready for presents now."
"YES!" Dream shot up from the couch like he'd been launched from a cannon. "Okay, okay, so how should we do this? Alphabetically? By size? By level of excitement? Oh! Or we could—"
"One at a time, perhaps?" Nightmare suggested, standing with considerably more grace. "In whatever order our dear spouse prefers?"
Both of them looked at you expectantly, and you felt a flutter of affection at their attention.
"How about... Dream goes first?" You suggested.
Dream made a sound that could only be described as a squeal of delight and immediately dove toward the tree, rummaging through the presents with barely contained chaos. Nightmare watched with fond exasperation, one tentacle reaching out to steady a precariously wobbling ornament.
"Here! This one!" Dream emerged from the pile of presents holding a medium-sized box wrapped in cheerful yellow paper covered in smiling suns. The bow on top was slightly crushed from his enthusiastic retrieval, but he quickly fluffed it back into shape. "This is for you, sweetheart!"
He practically bounced over to you, presenting the gift with both hands and an expression of eager anticipation.
You took the present carefully, noting the weight of it, and began to unwrap it. Dream watched with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating.
"I hope you like it, I saw it and immediately thought of you, and I know you mentioned wanting something like this a few months ago, and I wasn't sure if you still wanted it but I thought—"
"Dream," Nightmare said quietly. "Let them open it."
"Right! Sorry! I'm just excited!"
You pulled away the paper to reveal a beautiful wooden box with an intricate design carved into the lid—stars and moons and suns all intertwined in an elegant pattern. Opening it, you found a complete set of high-quality art supplies: professional-grade colored pencils, each one perfectly sharpened, arranged in a gradient of colors that took your breath away. Beneath that was a leather-bound sketchbook with thick, creamy pages, and tucked into the side were several specialty pens and a set of metallic markers you'd been eyeing for months.
"Dream..." you breathed, running your fingers over the supplies. "This is incredible. This must have cost—"
"Don't worry about that!" Dream said quickly, waving his hand. "I just wanted you to have something that would make you happy! You're always talking about wanting to do more art, and I thought maybe having really nice supplies would help inspire you! And look—" He reached over and opened a small compartment in the box you hadn't noticed. "There's a hidden section for erasers and sharpeners and stuff! Isn't that cool?"
You felt tears prickling at your eyes. "Dream, I love it. Thank you so much."
His eyelights went soft and warm, and he pulled you into another hug, this one gentler than the first. "I'm so glad. I really wanted to get you something special."
You hugged him back tightly, then pulled back to kiss his cheekbone. "It's perfect."
Dream's face flushed a light golden color, and he made a happy sound.
Nightmare cleared his throat softly. "Very thoughtful, brother," he said, and there was genuine approval in his tone.
"Thanks, Nightmare!" Dream beamed at him, then looked back at you. "Okay, who's next?"
"Why don't I give you both your gifts?" You suggested, standing up and moving to the tree yourself.
You'd hidden their presents toward the back, wrapped in complementary paper—golden yellow for Dream, deep purple for Nightmare. You retrieved both boxes and handed them out.
"Oh! Can we open them at the same time?" Dream asked, already starting to tear at the paper.
"If you'd like," you said, settling back on the couch to watch.
Dream ripped into his present with characteristic enthusiasm while Nightmare carefully undid the wrapping, folding the paper neatly. Despite their different approaches, they both opened their boxes at nearly the same moment.
"Oh..." Dream's voice went soft and wondering.
Inside his box was a custom-made photo album, the cover embossed with golden designs. You'd spent months compiling it—photos of the three of you together, candid shots you'd taken of Dream helping people in the village, pictures of quiet moments and grand adventures. Each page was carefully arranged and annotated with little notes and memories.
Dream opened it carefully, his eyelights growing brighter as he flipped through the pages. "You... you made this? All of this?"
"I wanted you to have something that showed how much joy you bring to everyone around you," you said softly. "How much you mean to me. To us."
Dream's hands trembled slightly as he continued looking through the album. When he reached the last page—a photo of him laughing, caught in a moment of pure, unguarded happiness, with the words "Our Sunshine" written beneath it—he made a choked sound and set the album down carefully before launching himself at you.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he mumbled into your shoulder, holding you tight. "This is the best gift ever. I'm going to treasure it forever."
You held him close, running your hand soothingly along his spine. "I'm glad you like it."
Meanwhile, Nightmare had gone very still, staring down at the contents of his box. Inside was a first edition book—a rare volume of poetry you'd been hunting for months, knowing it was from his favorite author. But more than that, tucked inside was a handwritten letter, several pages long, detailing everything you loved about him. Every quiet moment, every gentle gesture, every time his actions had spoken louder than words.
When he finally looked up at you, his cyan eyelight was glowing with an intensity that made your breath catch.
"My dear..." His voice was rougher than usual, thick with emotion. "This is... I don't have words."
"You don't need words," you said gently.
He stood, moving with deliberate care, and cupped your face in his hands. The kiss he gave you was deep and slow and full of everything he couldn't say, and when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
"Thank you," he murmured. "For seeing me. For knowing me."
Dream, still holding onto you, made a happy sniffle sound. "This is so beautiful. We're all being so beautiful right now."
You laughed wetly, reaching up to wipe at your eyes. "Okay, okay, before we all turn into emotional puddles, maybe Nightmare should give his gift?"
Nightmare straightened, composing himself, though one tentacle remained curled around your wrist—a continued point of contact. "Yes. Of course."
He moved to the tree and retrieved a elegantly wrapped package—the paper was a deep, rich purple that seemed to shimmer in the light, and the silver ribbon was tied in a perfect bow.
"I must admit," Nightmare said as he handed it to you, "I found the gift-giving process somewhat... challenging. Dream makes it look effortless, but I wanted to find something that was both practical and meaningful."
"No pressure or anything!" Dream chimed in, still pressed against your side.
Nightmare shot him a look. "You're not helping."
"I'm providing moral support!"
You carefully unwrapped the present, and your breath caught. Inside was a beautiful, high-quality laptop—but not just any laptop. As you opened it, you realized Nightmare had customized everything. The desktop background was a photo of the three of you. The folders were already organized exactly how you liked them. And when you clicked on the documents folder, you found he'd already installed every program you'd ever mentioned wanting, along with several writing and creative software packages.
But there was more. Beneath the laptop was a leather portfolio containing a contract—a publishing deal for the book you'd been working on. Your book. The one you'd been too nervous to submit anywhere.
"Nightmare..." You whispered, staring at the papers. "Did you... how did you..."
"I may have taken the liberty of reading your manuscript," he said, and there was a hint of nervousness in his voice that you rarely heard. "I hope you don't mind. You'd left it open on the old computer one day, and I was... curious. It's brilliant, my dear. Truly brilliant. So I contacted a publisher I know—someone reputable, I assure you—and they agreed. They want to publish your work."
You couldn't speak. You just stared at the contract, at the laptop, at this incredible, thoughtful, impossibly perfect gift.
"If you'd rather not, of course, that's entirely your choice," Nightmare continued, speaking faster now. "I didn't sign anything on your behalf. But I wanted you to have the opportunity, and the tools to pursue it if you wished. The laptop is yours regardless, and I've also set up a cloud backup system so you'll never lose your work, and—"
You cut him off by kissing him, pouring all your gratitude and love and amazement into it. When you pulled back, you were definitely crying now.
"It's perfect," you managed. "You're perfect. This is... Nightmare, this is incredible."
He looked relieved and pleased, his tentacles curling contentedly. "I'm glad. I wanted to give you something that would help you achieve your dreams."
"Oh my gosh, that's so romantic!" Dream said, wiping at his own eye sockets. "Nightmare, you're being so romantic right now!"
"I have my moments," Nightmare said dryly, but he looked pleased.
"Okay, okay, my turn!" Dream announced. "I have something for Nightmare!"
He scrambled back to the tree and pulled out a large, flat package wrapped in cheerful paper. Nightmare took it with a raised brow bone.
"Dream, we agreed on reasonable gifts this year."
"It IS reasonable! Very reasonable! Extremely reasonable!" Dream insisted.
Nightmare unwrapped it carefully, and his expression shifted to something complicated—surprise, fondness, and a touch of exasperation all mixed together.
It was a painting. A beautiful, clearly professionally done painting of the two of them—Dream and Nightmare—standing back to back, their magic intertwining above them in swirls of gold and purple. But they weren't fighting. They were protecting each other, supporting each other. The artist had captured something essential about their relationship, the way they balanced each other.
"Dream..." Nightmare's voice was soft.
"I commissioned it!" Dream said proudly. "From that artist in the village you like! I wanted you to have something that showed... you know. That we're brothers. That we're a team. Even when we're different. Especially because we're different."
Nightmare was quiet for a long moment, studying the painting. Then he reached out and pulled Dream into a hug—a real, genuine hug that made Dream squeak in surprise before melting into it.
"Thank you, brother," Nightmare murmured. "It's... meaningful."
"You're welcome," Dream said, his voice muffled against Nightmare's shoulder. "I love you, you know. Even when you're all grumpy and dark and brooding."
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood."
"I contemplate."
"Broodingly!"
You watched them with a fond smile, your heart feeling so full it might burst.
When they separated, Nightmare cleared his throat. "Well. I suppose I have something for you as well, Dream."
"You do?" Dream's eyelights went wide and sparkly.
Nightmare retrieved a small box from behind the tree—you hadn't even noticed it there. Dream took it with trembling hands and opened it carefully.
Inside was a golden locket on a delicate chain. Dream opened it with a soft gasp. On one side was a tiny picture of the three of you. On the other was an inscription: "The brightest light in any darkness."
"Nightmare..." Dream's voice cracked.
"You're insufferably optimistic, relentlessly cheerful, and you have absolutely no sense of personal boundaries," Nightmare said, his tone dry but his expression soft. "You're also the best brother I could have asked for. Even if you do wake up at ungodly hours on Christmas morning."
Dream made a sound between a laugh and a sob and hugged Nightmare again, even tighter this time.
"I love it. I love you. I'm never taking this off, ever!"
"Please do take it off occasionally. For cleaning purposes."
"Okay, fine, but only for cleaning!"
You stood and joined the hug, wrapping your arms around both of them. They immediately adjusted to include you, Dream's arms around your waist, Nightmare's tentacles curling around you both.
"Merry Christmas," you murmured.
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," Dream said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"Merry Christmas, my dear," Nightmare added, his voice a low rumble.
You stood there together, wrapped in each other's arms, the tree lights twinkling behind you and the fire crackling warmly. Outside, snow had begun to fall, dusting the world in white.
"You know what would make this even better?" Dream said after a moment.
"What?" You asked.
"Hot chocolate! With marshmallows! And we could watch Christmas movies! And I made cookies yesterday that we haven't eaten yet! And—"
"Dream," Nightmare interrupted gently. "We're having a moment."
"We can have a moment AND hot chocolate!"
You laughed. "He has a point."
Nightmare sighed, but you could see the smile tugging at his mouth. "Fine. But I'm choosing the first movie."
"As long as it's not something depressing!" Dream said.
"I was going to suggest a classic."
"Your idea of a classic is probably something in black and white where everyone dies at the end!"
"Not everyone. Sometimes one person survives to contemplate the meaninglessness of existence."
"NIGHTMARE!"
You giggled, extracting yourself from the hug. "How about we compromise? We'll watch one of Nightmare's classics, then one of Dream's cheerful movies, then something we all agree on?"
"That sounds perfect!" Dream said immediately.
Nightmare considered, then nodded. "Acceptable."
The rest of the morning dissolved into cozy chaos. Dream made hot chocolate—with an excessive amount of marshmallows and whipped cream—while you and Nightmare set up the movie. You all piled onto the couch together, you in the middle with Dream curled up on one side and Nightmare on the other, blankets draped over everyone.
Dream kept up a running commentary during the movie, asking questions and making observations. Nightmare would answer in his dry way, occasionally pointing out details in the cinematography or plot structure. You just soaked it all in, warm and content and loved.
At some point, Dream's hand found yours under the blanket, fingers intertwining. On your other side, Nightmare's tentacle curled around your waist, holding you close. You were anchored between them, caught in the perfect balance of light and dark, enthusiasm and calm, sunshine and shadow.
"Hey," Dream said softly during a quiet moment in the film. "I'm really glad we're all together."
"As am I," Nightmare agreed, his voice equally quiet.
"Me too," you added, squeezing Dream's hand and leaning into Nightmare's side. "I love you both. So much."
"We love you too," they said in unison, then looked at each other in surprise.
You laughed, the sound bright and happy in the cozy room. "Jinx. You both owe me a kiss."
"Oh, I think we can manage that," Nightmare said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Dream giggled. "Best Christmas ever."
And as they both leaned in to fulfill their "debt," the tree lights twinkling and the snow falling softly outside, you couldn't help but agree.
Best Christmas ever, indeed.
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I am NOT going back and removing all the asterisks. Not yet, anyway
Edit at 11:40am on 01/06/2026
I removed all the asterisks
—Ash