Male! Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader

(1)Chapter 4: Therapy

(The song Don't Try Suicide popped into my head as I titled the chapter)

Wednesday's POV

I got out of the clinic, finding Y/N a short distance down the hall. I lightly tapped her right shoulder as I caught up to her, scaring her slightly. Her fear amused me.

"Oh, Wednesday. Did you need something?" She asks. I freeze, but only for a second.

"Not exactly. I noticed that it's currently raining outside, and you are unprepared." I answer as I hold out my own umbrella.

"Ah, so you're here to poke fun at me for being unprepared for a little drizzle." She says with a hint of annoyance.

"Partially. But I also don't want you catching a cold when I may require your service at some point in time." I say, trying to steady her emotions. I could tell she did not like criticism at this moment.

"I knew kindness didn't suit you." She comments before continuing her walk. I follow closely as we head to Ophelia Hall.

As we pass an outing, I cover the both of us with my umbrella. Y/N doesn't refuse my offer, thankfully because I didn't want to discuss my disgusting kindness. She perks her head upwards as the sound of stone scraping is heard. I look upward to see a gargoyle healing toward us. In the heat of the moment, I push Y/N away from the statue. She most likely still has something she wants to live for... gross.

At least I'll have an imaginative death.

"Wednesday!" I hear her scream along with another unfamiliar voice.

...

I slowly wake up, a figure sitting next to me while another stands closer, anxiously watching me.

"You're ok... Welcome back." The standing future says, I recognize the voice to be Y/N. I abruptly sit up, wondering why I'm not dead.

"Wednesday, please, take it easy." She says as she hesitantly places a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. Usually, I'd cut her fingers off or at least shove her hand off. But I'll let her action slide this time...

"Nurse said you don't have a concussion, but you probably have a nasty bump, huh?" The other person in the room says.

"The last thing I remember I was walking outside feeling a mixture of rage, pity, an unrecognizable feeling, and self-disgust. I never felt that way before." I explain to him.

"Losing to Bianca has that effect on people, I think." He says, a look of guilt and familiarity recognizable in his eyes. Y/N sighs at his statement. She clearly knows what he refers to.

"Then I looked up and saw that gargoyle coming down, and I thought, "At least I'll have an imaginative death." Then you tackled me out of the way. Why?" I ask, glossing over my own actions when it came to Y/N's safety.

"Call it instinct." He answers.

"So you were guided by latent chivalry, the tool of the patriarchy, to extract a maiden's undying gratitude?" I accuse. He is obviously uncomfortable with my remark.

"Mm-hmm. Most people just say thank you."

"I didn't want to be rescued." I retort.

"And then your skull would be mush, and I'd have to deal with a dead kid and newfound trauma?" Y/N half jokes half scolds, her grip tightened on my shoulder, and I had to keep myself from flinching in her menacing gaze. To say I wasn't like a moth drawn to a lamp in her gaze would be a lie.

"I would have rather saved myself." I answer. The boy scoffs before speaking.

"Good to see you haven't changed. If it makes you feel any better, let's just say I returned the favor." He says, expecting me to have remembered him. "Xavier Thorpe? You probably don't remember me. Last time we met, I was about two feet shorter, 40 pounds heavier." Xavier explains.