X-Men Oneshots

Song Series (Charles Xavier)

*Based off the song: Please, Please, Please by Sabrina Carpenter*

*I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way*

You sat on the windowsill of your shared apartment, staring out into the city's glowing lights, lost in thought. The street below bustled with life, cars honking and people chatting, oblivious to the turmoil building inside you. You sighed and checked your phone for the hundredth time—no new messages. Charles hadn't texted since he left for the event.

"He's different," you whispered aloud, more to reassure yourself than anything. That's what you always told everyone. He was unlike anyone you'd ever known—brilliant, kind, compassionate. But there were moments when he seemed miles away, lost in a world of his own, a world where you didn't always feel like you belonged. You could picture your friends' skeptical looks when you defended him, each one more unconvinced than the last. It's funny, isn't it? How I'm the only one who believes it sometimes.

But you loved him. Despite everything, despite his tendency to get carried away with the world's demands, you loved him. And wasn't that enough? You told yourself it was. Still, the doubt lingered.

*I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't*

You leaned your head back against the wall, fingers tapping nervously on your lap. Tonight was supposed to be different. He promised you. He'd stay in. You'd both have a quiet night, no interruptions, no distractions. Just the two of you.

But of course, things didn't go as planned.

When the invitation came from some important political figure, Charles couldn't say no. He rarely ever did when it involved helping others. You understood that, really, you did. He had the world on his shoulders, constantly trying to be the bridge between mutants and humans. But it didn't stop the sting of disappointment.

"He promised," you muttered under your breath, standing up and pacing the room. Your reflection in the mirror caught your eye. Your makeup was flawless—an effort you'd made just for tonight. You laughed bitterly, wondering why you bothered when the night was unraveling like this.

He's different, you reminded yourself again. Please, just don't prove me wrong, Charles.

*I heard that you're an actor, so act like a stand-up guy

Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight*

You checked your phone again, the silence from Charles gnawing at you. He'd been quiet for too long. A million thoughts rushed through your head—was he okay? Was he losing control? Charles always tried to keep himself composed, but there was a darker side to him, one he didn't like to talk about. The weight of his power, the burden of knowing everyone's thoughts, everyone's pain, sometimes overwhelmed him.

You'd seen it happen before, watched him unravel at the edges when he let too much in. But tonight, you couldn't bear the idea of him losing it. Not again. Not when he promised you that things would be different this time.

You clenched your phone tightly, texting him once more: Please, Charles, don't let me be right about this.

The message hung in the air, unanswered. You bit your lip, pacing faster.

*Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right
And please, please, please
Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice*

The door finally opened, and Charles stepped inside, looking as dashing as ever in his suit, his hair slightly mussed from the wind. He smiled softly at you, but there was a weariness in his eyes, a guilt that told you everything you needed to know.

"You went," you said flatly, your voice void of emotion.

"I did," he admitted, his shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry. It was important."

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your voice steady. "You promised me you wouldn't go."

"I know, Y/N, but—"

"No." You cut him off, walking toward the mirror and touching up your lipstick with trembling hands. "I don't want to hear it. I spent the night waiting, worrying about what could happen, while you did the exact thing you promised me you wouldn't."

Charles moved closer, his voice soft. "I didn't mean to let you down."

"But you did," you whispered, eyes stinging with the tears you were trying desperately to hold back. You blinked quickly, refusing to let him see you cry. Not after the effort you'd put into your appearance tonight. Not when you wanted so badly for tonight to be different.

"I just did my makeup so nice," you added bitterly, shaking your head. "Please don't bring me to tears over this, Charles. I can't take it."

*Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh*

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, it wasn't supposed to go like this. I wanted to stay, I did. But things got complicated."

"They always get complicated," you shot back, stepping away from him. "It's one thing if this is just about us, Charles, but you make me look like a fool every time you break your word. I stand by you, defend you to everyone who doubts, and what do I get for it? Nights like this, where I'm left wondering if you even care."

He winced at the harshness of your words, but you didn't care. You needed him to feel what you felt—this constant weight of uncertainty, the humiliation that crept in whenever he chose someone else's needs over yours.

"I don't care about heartbreak," you continued, eyes flashing. "But don't you dare embarrass me. Not like this."

*Well, I have a fun idea, babe (Uh-huh), maybe just stay inside

I know you're cravin' some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice*

Charles' shoulders slumped, his blue eyes filled with regret. "I should've listened to you earlier. Stayed in like you asked."

You folded your arms, the frustration slowly ebbing into exhaustion. "Yeah, maybe you should've. It wouldn't have been so bad, would it? Just us. No one else to impress, no one else to save."

He nodded, moving closer again, this time cautiously. "I'm sorry. Truly. I know I've let you down."

"You have," you said quietly, the anger draining out of you as quickly as it had built. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to make this work, Charles. I just need you to meet me halfway."

He reached out, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. "I can do that."

*Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right*

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. Maybe this time, things would be different. Maybe he would change.

"Don't prove me right," you murmured, your voice softer now, pleading.

"I won't," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I swear, I'll do better."

And in that moment, you believed him.