X-Men Oneshots

You sleeping on the couch after an argument

Charles:

Charles Xavier prided himself on being a man of reason, intellect, and understanding. But even he was not immune to the strains that relationships sometimes faced. The argument between him and Y/N had been brewing for days, little things piling up until they could no longer be ignored. Now, here he was, sitting alone in his study, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace, the weight of their last words hanging heavy in the air.

It wasn't a typical argument, not the kind where voices were raised or insults were thrown. No, Charles and Y/N rarely argued that way. Their disagreements were quieter, more controlled—but that didn't make them any less painful. This time, it had been about distance. Not physical distance, but the emotional kind. Charles had been distracted, consumed by his responsibilities at the mansion and the ever-present weight of his duties as the leader of the X-Men. Y/N, understandably, had felt neglected, and when she finally brought it up, the discussion quickly turned into something neither of them wanted.

Now, the silence in the mansion felt oppressive.

Charles sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as he replayed their conversation in his mind. She had been right, of course. He had been distant. But it wasn't intentional. He was always thinking, always planning, always trying to protect the people he loved—and sometimes that left little room for anything else. He thought Y/N understood that, but tonight, she had reached her breaking point. She had told him she felt like she was always second in his life, that his mind was always somewhere else, even when they were together.

"I just want to feel like I'm important to you, Charles," she had said, her voice soft but strained with emotion. "Like I'm more than just another thing on your list."

Those words had hit him harder than any physical blow ever could. He had tried to explain, tried to tell her that she was the most important person in his life, but it had come out wrong. His usual calm and composed demeanor had faltered, and before he knew it, she had quietly excused herself, retreating to the living room to sleep on the couch.

Now, here he was, sitting alone, feeling the sharp sting of regret.

He stood slowly, his body stiff from sitting for too long, and made his way toward the door. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft creak of the floorboards under his feet as he walked down the hall. He knew where she would be—curled up on the couch, trying to find comfort in the solitude she had chosen. He had never wanted her to feel that way. Never wanted her to feel like she wasn't his priority. But somehow, he had let it happen.

When he reached the living room, he paused in the doorway, his heart sinking at the sight of her. Y/N was lying on the couch, her back to him, a blanket pulled up around her shoulders. The soft rise and fall of her breathing told him she was asleep, but even in her sleep, there was a tension in the way she held herself, as if the argument had followed her into her dreams.

Charles's throat tightened with guilt as he stepped into the room, kneeling beside the couch so he was at eye level with her. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his fingers brushing gently against her arm. He didn't want to wake her, but he also couldn't let her spend the night like this, feeling like she wasn't important to him.

"Y/N," he called softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She didn't stir.

Charles sighed, his heart aching as he knelt there beside her. He hadn't meant to make her feel this way. He had never wanted her to feel like she wasn't his priority, but somehow, he had let his responsibilities come between them. He had let his fears and worries about the future cloud his judgment, and now she was the one paying the price.