I truly love this scene and Elizabeth dress in particular: the way it fluttuates, the bandages around the arms mirroring the ones the creatures had when he was born, the red cross necklace on the total white dress. Astonishing.
isaac night x frump!reader - "all that matters is that you're safe"
warnings & notes: idk what this is supposed to be 😬 it was requested by an anonymous ask, but i'm afraid that i didn't do it justice. my writing is half-assed at best + not 100% proof read. also, this fic is not related to my isaac night x frump!reader storyline. i made y/n female for the sake of this story, so i hope that doesn't offend anyone who may have wanted to read something that fits their gender identity. thanks for requesting this, anon! i hope it's... okay? tw: hints of child abuse, patricide, and slight gore (not really). let me know if I missed something.
Three years. That’s how long it’s been since your elder sister went missing. Life hasn’t been the same since darling Ophelia vanished without a trace, leaving a void that felt both unbearable and unfillable. Still, the world kept spinning, causing you to feel out of sync, as if you were moving through a haze while everyone else carried on with their lives.
You sat in a limousine financed by Frump Mortuaries & Co., your mother's funeral business, the plush leather seats surrounding you like the ones that provided rest for the corpses in caskets. Outside, rain pattered on the tinted windows, which unfortunately wasn’t loud enough to drown out the tiresome lectures seeping out of your dear mama's mouth like lethal poison.
“All this wealth and legacy I’ve provided you two girls,” your mother said, making a sweeping gesture with her hands, as if to encompass the opulence of the limousine. “And what do you have to show for it? Ophelia is gone, and now the both of you need to step up to take her place as heiresses.”
You clenched your jaw, feeling the familiar frustration bubble within you. It was always about the business with her—about maintaining appearances, about ensuring the family legacy remained intact. Quietly, you looked to your left, finding your other sister, Morticia, in the midst of an attempt to disassociate from the one-sided conversation the two of you were practically dragged into by your mother.
Noticing that none of you were listening to her, Hester made a quick snap of her fingers, her dark eyes burning furiously like black fire. “Are you even hearing me?” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “This isn’t just about sentiment; it’s about survival. You need to understand the importance of our family’s name!”
You exchanged glances with your sister, who sat silently beside you, her expression a mix of resignation and frustration. It was clear that Hester’s relentless pursuit of maintaining the wealth she accumulated for herself over years of building the family business brick by brick.
“Y/N! Morticia!” Hester Frump shouted, trying to get the attention of both her children. “It is time that the both of you wake up. I won’t be here forever. One of you, if not the both of you, should take charge of this business!” she slammed her pale hand against the armrest, inhaling sharply as the Black Widow tried to compose herself and relieve the tension in her decrepit bones.
Silence hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension settling between you and Hester. You could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down like a thick fog, stifling any chance of genuine connection or grief in this moment. Morticia shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. You could sense her internal struggle—you knew she was thinking of Gomez, and what the future might’ve held for her if she married him. Your mother had always discouraged the notion, reminding Morticia that love was a luxury that could distract from the family’s duties.
You glanced at Morticia, seeing the conflict etched on her face. The wedding plans had been a distant dream, eclipsed by Hester’s relentless pursuit of control over your lives and the family business. It was as if every idea of romanticism was quashed beneath the weight of obligation to your mother's legacy.
"I never needed your father for anything," your mother continued saying. "May his soul rest in peace. He was a huckster—a merchant with very little significance in the grand scheme of things.”
Closing your eyes tightly, you could feel an excruciating ache in your chest at the mention of your father. He had passed when you were just a child, but the thought of him still stirred a deep, lingering sadness. Memories of a warm smile, the sound of his laughter, and the way he used to lift you onto his shoulders flooded your mind, mingling with the bitterness of your mother’s words.
It was painful to hear Hester speak of him so dismissively, as if he were nothing more than a footnote in their lives. You had held onto the few memories you had, cherishing them as fragments of a love that had been taken too soon. The loss felt fresh again, as if the years had not dulled the pain but rather buried it beneath layers of unresolved grief.
In a silent gesture of comfort, Morticia took your hand into hers, her skin cold as a freshly unearthed corpse. The chill sent a shiver through you, but it was a grounding reminder that you were enduring your mother together.
Falling back into her seat, Hester buried her face into her hands, her shoulders slouching in exhaustion. She let out another sigh, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken words, knowing that whatever managed to slip her tongue would fail to get through to you. The mask she wore as a strong matriarch held firm, but as you looked to your mother, the creases in her forehead and the tightness around her mouth betrayed the turmoil beneath the surface.
"What am I going to do with you two?" she muttered with a slight shake of the head. There was no tenderness in her voice, the resolve in the Black Widow's stare remained unwavering as it fixated solely on you.
You felt another chill creep down your spine as her gaze pierced through you. It was as if she was both challenging and pleading, her fierce disposition threatening to break through. You did not dare to break eye contact with your mother, as you knew it would leave you exposed to her black flames.
"You will be useless if you only depend on a husband for your strength and identity," Hester declared, her voice sharp. "You must learn to stand on your own, to build your own legacy, like I did."
With your hand still clasped in Morticia's, your skin started to feel clammy, a mix of anxiety and the burden of expectation pressing down on you. It was clear that Hester had lost all hope for your sister, knowing that Tish would end up with Gomez no matter what "maternal advice" she tried to impose upon her. But you? You were your mother's last hope.
Before you could utter a word in response to your mother's declaration, the limousine screeched to a halt—you had reached the gates of Nevermore Academy. The imposing wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, intricately designed with twisting vines.
The door opened and Varicose, your family's butler, ducked her head into the vehicle, her expression impassive as she offered you a gloved hand to step out. With a small nod of your head, you took her hand and stepped out onto the gravel driveway of Nevermore Academy.
The cool air wrapped around you, invigorating and filled with the scent of pine and earth. You glanced around, taking in the imposing gates that framed the entrance, the dark stone of the academy looming ahead like a fortress.
"Think long and hard about what I said, child," your mother called out to you, remaining inside the limousine as she did every time the woman even bothered to be present during your school drop-offs.
You ignored her, which wasn't hard to do on your part. Of course, the words of your mother still echoed in your mind as Varicose handed you your luggage, but you wouldn't let them spoil your first day back at the academy. Instead, you bid one last look at the dark limousine, before following your sister through Nevermore's gates.
[a few days later]
"mmm, darling..." you heard a hoarse voice whisper into your ear, hot breath grazing against the back of your neck like a soft breeze. "what time is it?"
you couldn't remember where you were, feeling disoriented and out of place as you woke up in a bed that wasn't your own.
oh. that's right. you were in isaac's room.
the overwhelming smell of ink and paper filled the room, reminding you that your boyfriend had a tendency to draw his blueprints for the many brilliant machines he was inventing. of course, isaac had to keep the sketches right on his bedside table, so whenever you woke up, you'd always be welcomed by the scent.
"i don't know, baby..." you responded, making no move to untangle yourself from his arms as you wished to keep warm on this cold, fall morning. "go back to sleep, yeah? it's still early."
isaac let out a sleepy sigh, content in his current position by your side. the two of you haven't seen each other all summer, distracted by your own families and the expected baggage they bring. you could feel his bare chest pressed against your naked back, the ticking of your lover's mechanical heart thumping against you.
"my parents want me and fran back home for the weekend," he mumbled, almost regretfully. his hold tightened around your waist, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder as he did so. "you wanna come?"
you froze, muscles tensing at his sudden question. slowly, you turned on your side to face him. "would i be allowed to? was I even invited?" you asked, tracing the outline of his collarbone.
"you are now. I just invited you," Isaac says cheekily, kissing you again, this time to your nose. "my mother would love to host a guest. its been a while since she showed off her collection of fine china."
there was a short pause, the only sound being your soft breathing and the ticking of the machine in isaac's chest. you had heard stories of your boyfriend's parents, but you've never actually gotten the chance to meet them. this would be the first time making their acquaintance if you went with Isaac for the weekend.
"okay..." you finally say, having mustered the courage to answer him. you don't know how you came to this conclusion, knowing that his parents were absolute hell to be around... well, at least his father was.
isaac smiled, looking almost relieved. perhaps he had asked you to come with him and francoise because he couldn't fathom the idea of returning home without armor. you were isaac's armor, the shield that may protect him from his father's wrath, even if it was just for a short period of time where he would be expected to sleep underneath his parents' roof.
[the night household]
dinner was quite splendid. mrs. night had treated you to a lovely supper in the family dining room, the one location of the home that appeared to be used the least. it seemed that family dinners were not common when fran and isaac weren't home, if they were even common at all.
everything seemed normal for the most part, the table elegantly set with fine china and flickering candles casting a warm glow across the room. the aroma of roasted vegetables and rich wine filled the air, mingling with the soft clinking of silverware against plates. mrs. night circled around the table, serving everyone the meal she had prepared.
"please, let me help you, mrs. night," you insisted, earning a soft smile from the woman who stood before you, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"no, dear," mrs. night shook her head, adding an extra serving of mashed potatoes onto your plate. "you are our guest, it's my job to make sure you're provided with everything you need."
from underneath the table, you could feel isaac squeeze your thigh, reassuring you that it was okay to let his mother spoil you. quietly, you looked over to him, catching his eye. a small smile played on his lips, his expression a blend of warmth and encouragement.
the family was a modest one. they didn't have maids like yours, nor was their home very large. to you, the night family home was a breath of fresh air you never thought you needed. while your manor's walls were wide and daunting, your boyfriend's home was warm and almost... intimate?
your gaze fell on francoise, the girl having taken a seat across from you on the other side of the table. it was apparent to you that you were in her usual chair, having been informed by Isaac that he and his sister made a habit of sticking close to one another during their childhood, and that seemed to hold true even at meal times.
realizing that your eyes were on her, fran looked up from her plate and smiled at you. she didn't mind that you were sitting next to her brother. there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you—that you both cared for Isaac and that you both played important roles in his life.
the room was relatively silent, but you were sort of used to that. growing up, you were never really exposed to conversation while eating; although before your father died, things may have been different—you couldn’t remember.
without warning, the silence that swallowed the room was broken when mr. night suddenly cleared his throat, discarding his fork on the half-eaten plate that sat before him. the man's eyes were hazel, bordering on green, much like francoise's.
"you've at least made it edible tonight, woman," he remarked coldly, his gaze falling on mrs. night. you traced a hint of disdain in his eyes as he looked at her, which made your anxiety spike.
no one spoke, not even isaac. mrs. night tried to laugh her husband's words off as just a bit of humor, for your sake. but everyone knew that his comment was meant to be an insult towards her, no matter how many times isaac's mom forcefully contorted her lips upwards.
you kept your eyes in your own plate, feeling the shift in the air. scraping of forks against plates was all you could hear for a few minutes as you all gradually recovered from the unwelcome interruption that escaped the mouth of isaac's cruel father.
isaac's expression darkened, and you sensed the tension radiating from him as he clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure. you wished you could say something to ease the discomfort, but the words felt trapped in your throat.
mrs. night, ever the resilient matriarch, took a deep breath and attempted to redirect the conversation. “well, i’m glad we're all here together,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “family meals are so important.”
but the warmth of her words hung in the air, overshadowed by mr. night's earlier comment. it was clear that he wasn't a very kind husband, even if his wife was being anything other than devoted to him and the family they shared together.
her attempt to uplift the mood, his disdain palpable. “is that what you call this? a family meal?” he sneered, the man's voice dripping with sarcasm as his cold gaze landed on you. "woman, i told you a thousand times before that I didn't want this girl here in the first place. you can't call this a 'family meal' with her sitting at my table."
hearing his father's complaint, isaac's head shot up, his hand reaching to grab yours from underneath the table. something inside of him had obviously snapped, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before this little reunion went to shit.
"who do you think you're talking about?!" isaac quickly shot back, his dark eyes flaring up like embers emerging from a fire. "what gives you the right to speak about your guest that way, father?"
mr. night suddenly stood from his chair, Isaac following his father's movements. you swallowed back a lump of trepidation in your throat, pushing away from the table as you looked up to Isaac, suddenly aware that you were not welcome in the home.
“you want to invite outsiders into our home?" mr. night asked isaac, his hazel eyes darting between you and his son. "she is not my guest! this girl was never permitted to darken my doorstep to begin with!"
"but mother said—" francoise tried to interject, but her father cut her off mid-sentence.
"to hell with that wench!" the man said, gesturing to his wife who was now cowering in her chair. it seemed that she had reached her limit pretending to be a content, adoring housewife, now that her husband's true colors were starting to show.
"hey!" Isaac shouted, his anger surpassing its usual level. "don't you dare speak to Mother like that!" you could feel the table starting to shake, the silverware and glasses of wine began clattering on it's polished wooden surface.
uh-oh, isaac's heightened emotions must've been triggering his telekinetic abilities.
"baby," you warned, taking hold of your boyfriend's hand. "calm down, my love, you're making the table shake."
isaac, finally coming to his senses, takes note of the tremors vibrating through the table. he glanced down, his expression shifting from anger to concern as he released his grip on your hand, taking a deep breath to ground himself.
“sorry,” he muttered, his voice strained but softening as he focused on calming his emotions. the rattling silverware slowly settled, the tension in the air easing just a fraction.
"get your little bitch out of my house!" isaac's father commanded, slamming his hand on the table, causing your lover to flinch slightly.
the sight of Isaac flinching caused a surge of fury to rush through your body, igniting an instinct to protect him. you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as anger bubbled just beneath the surface.
“don’t shout at him!” you exclaimed, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “you may think you can control everything around you, but you don’t get to dictate who belongs here.”
mr. night turned his icy gaze toward you, surprise flickering momentarily before his expression hardened again. “and who are you to speak up in my house?!" he said, advancing towards you.
"father, stop!" francoise shouted, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she tried to prevent the situation from escalating further, but mr. night quickly silenced her with a slap to her face.
stunned by the sudden violence, a gasp escaped your lips, and you felt your heart race. francoise stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, shock and hurt flashing across her face. the room fell silent, the air thick with disbelief and fear.
“no!” isaac yelled, his voice breaking as he ran to fran's side, unknowingly leaving you in a vulnerable position as mr. night continued to advance in your direction.
within seconds, you became completely paralyzed, unable to move from the spot you were standing in, as the man grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging it harshly. you looked at him, familiar images of similar scenes from your past playing in the back of your mind like a movie trailer. you knew what was to come, and yet you didn't even react as the palm of mr. night's hand made contact with your cheek.
"watch your tongue, you ungrateful girl," your mother said, her phantom voice echoing within the chambers of your mind.
somebody's hand hit your face again, this time like a whip to raw flesh. you couldn't tell if it was the memory of your mother's hands being laid upon you, or if it was isaac's father as he beat you for rightfully putting him in his place.
before you could even react to what was happening, a large creature tackled mr. night to the ground, its growls flooding the room and drowning mrs. night's screams as she fell onto the hardboard floors in fear.
your eyes widened; you didn't know what was going on, nor did you have time to process the chaos unfolding before you. the creature—a massive, monstrous, pale-skinned being with an emaciated and hunched posture. it was one of the scariest things you've ever seen, and yet somehow, you knew it wouldn't harm you.
"let's go, darling," Isaac urged, grabbing you by the wrist as he started forcefully tugging you out of the room. he didn't even wait for francoise, or his mother, both who were no longer in your line of sight. "it's okay, baby. just follow me. don't look back."
you could hear the agonizing screams that came from mr. night's lungs as he was torn apart by the monster. the sounds were horrific, but in some twisted way, in spite of terror flooding your senses, you found the idea of your boyfriend's abuser dying a slow, painful death, was a rather pleasant thought to make its home in your head.
frantically, isaac dragged you out of his family home. there was no time to ask him questions as he rushed you into the car, although one still remained...
where was francoise?
your boyfriend's hands were shaking as he opened the passenger seat door, pushing you inside the vehicle with very little regard for what bruises you may receive from his roughness.
he was scared, you could tell.
without another word, Isaac slammed the door to the passenger's seat closed, once he knew that you were safely tucked away inside. things were moving too quickly for you, although you tried to remain calm, for isaac's sake.
the poor boy was hyperventilating, trying to regain his senses before he drove off into the night with you. wordlessly, you reached out to touch his shoulder, but Isaac flinched, just as he did with mr. night had slammed his fist on the table earlier.
"baby?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
"i'm fine," Isaac was quick to say, running a hand through his hair.
"what was-" you couldn't even finish your sentence, as you were cut off by isaac's tense body language and the way he shook his head, exhaling shakily.
you didn't speak for another few seconds. it was clear that isaac wasn't ready to answer any of your questions, especially now after what happened.
"...are you okay?" was all your boyfriend managed to say through the panic as he struggled to keep it at bay. he looked at you, his eyes looking right through you.
he's traumatized.
you nodded, shifting closer to him, hooking your arm around his. you could feel him trembling, your boyfriend's breathing still coming out unevenly.
"t-that's all that matters," isaac muttered, caressing the red spot on your cheek where his father had struck you. "i'm not going to let anything like that happen to you ever again."
you were safe.
you both were safe.
nothing was going to harm you.
but that creature-
"I'll explain everything to you soon," Isaac reassured, sensing that you had more questions. "but first... I need to get you out of here."
you let yourself lean back into the car seat, trying to clear your mind. forget about what happened to mr. night, forget about francoise and isaac's mother, and the half-finished meal that was probably still sitting on the dining room table, now seasoned with crimson liquid.
Isaac Night as a concept is so fascinating that part of me genuinely wishes Tim Burton had made an original movie about him something that existed entirely on its own not tied to Wednesday. It could’ve been animated or live-action I don’t even care just something where he got to breathe as a character. Like a standalone Burton story in the vein of Frankenweenie, The Nightmare Before Christmas, or Edward Scissorhands.
