hii i just watched x-men first class and i cannot stop thinking about charles xavier, im so sad that thereโs not a lot of young charles x male reader :(
so would you be able to write a fluff fic please? just a bunch of happy and sweet stuff with him, i donโt have any specific ideas so itโs all up to you! thank you!!
Telepathic
Charles Xavier x Male Reader
Summary: Charles had spent the day in bed, unfortunately for you it meant his voice ringing in your head during classes.
A/N: So many great characters, so little fanfiction for them. I loved James as young Charles and X-men first class was decent, so hopefully this fulfilled your needs.
CW: Fluff - Mutant reader
Words: 3.2k
The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the master bedroom, casting long, golden bars across the mahogany floor. Charles had decided to stay in bed again. It was a choice he made with increasing frequency lately, though he never offered an explanation. He didn't have to. You knew heโd rather stay tucked under the heavy quilts than face the students' pitying glances at his chair, or the agonizing "ghost" of a twitch in legs that no longer moved.
โYou never pushed him. You simply adjusted.
โYou moved quietly, preparing for the telepathy ethics course Charles usually taught. It was a role you had stepped into seamlesslyโa secondary duty to your work with the X-Men. As you stood before the mirror, Charles watched you from the pillows, the sheets bunched around his bare hips. His gaze was heavy, filled with a mix of adoration and a quiet, simmering frustration that he wasn't the one standing at the wardrobe.
โโMust you go?โ Charlesโs voice was a rough whisper, still thick with sleep. โCan't Hank take the lecture? Or Logan?โ
โYou caught his eye in the reflection, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips. Your fingers fumbled slightly with the top buttons of your crisp white shirt. โHank is currently neck-deep in a serum calibration, and Logan is... well, Logan isn't exactly 'teaching material,' is he?โ You turned to face him, leaning against the dresser. โBesides, Iโm more than capable of handling your curriculum, Charles.โ
โHe sighed, the sound catching in his throat. He knew you were capable; you were one of the most brilliant minds heโd ever recruited, not to mention a shapeshifter whose beauty was as fluid as your form.
โโStay in bed with me,โ he pleaded softly, reaching a hand out across the empty space of the mattress.
โThe pull was magnetic. You crossed the room and took his hand, his skin warm against yours. You sat on the edge of the mattress, the springs creaking under your weight, and pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles.
โโI can't,โ you whispered against his skin. โThe world doesn't stop turning because we want it to. But Iโll be back the moment the bell rings.โ
Charlesโs fingers tightened around yours, his thumb tracing the pulse point at your wrist. For a moment, his blue eyes clouded, and you felt the faint, familiar brush of his mind against yoursโnot an intrusion, but a weary lean, like a man resting his head against a door.
โ"The world," Charles murmured, his voice regaining a hint of its usual professorial cadence despite his position, "is far too demanding of your time."
โ"It's demanding of yours, too," you countered gently. "Thatโs why Iโm going. So you can have a moment of peace."
โYou felt a surge of his frustration thenโthe phantom itch in a limb that wasn't responding. To distract him, you let your power hum beneath your skin. It was a subtle shift; your features didn't change entirely, but you let your skin take on a warmer glow, your eyes deepening in color to a shade you knew he found particularly grounding. It was a silent reminder: I am whatever you need me to be.
โCharles noticed. A small, genuine breath of a laugh escaped him. "Youโre showing off, darling."
โ"Is it working?"
โ"Incessantly," he sighed, finally letting his hand drop back to the bed. He watched as you stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from your slacks. "Bring me back some of those lemon biscuits from the kitchen when you return? Before the students devour them all?"
โ"I'll hide a whole plate of them," you promised.
โYou walked toward the door, but stopped at the threshold. In the corner of the room sat the wheelchairโpolished chrome and leather, looking cold in the morning light. You looked back at Charles. He had pulled the duvet higher, retreating back into the safety of the fabric, looking smaller than the man who had faced down Magneto on a beach in Cuba.
โ"Charles?"
โ"Hmm?" He didn't look up from the patterns on the ceiling.
โ"They don't see the chair," you said softly, addressing the fear he wouldn't voice. "They see the man who gave them a home. I'll see you soon."
โYou stepped out into the hallway, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind you. The quiet of the bedroom was instantly replaced by the distant, chaotic sounds of the mansion waking up: the thud of running footsteps in the corridor above, the muffled sound of an explosion from Hankโs lab, and the telepathic "static" of twenty young mutants finding their footing in a world that feared them.
โTaking a deep breath, you straightened your collar, shifted your height by a mere inch to carry yourself with more authority, and headed toward the classroom.
The morning air in the basement classroom was cool, smelling of chalk dust and the ozone lingering from Alexโs latest attempt at controlled bursts. You stood at the head of the long wooden table, gesturing toward a diagram on the chalkboard, but your mind wasn't entirely in the room.
โBeneath the chatter of the students, there was a velvet-smooth rhythm echoing in the back of your mind.
โโThe sun was not yet high, and the mist still hung in the hollows of the hills...โ It was Charles. He was reading The Lord of the Rings, his mental voice clear and resonant, carrying the cadence of a storyteller who knew exactly how to soothe an aching heart. It wasn't an intrusion; it was a tether. While you explained the nuances of genetic mutation to a wide-eyed Sean Cassidy and a skeptical-looking Darwin, Charlesโs voice acted as a heartbeat, a constant reminder that while he was physically absent, he was tucked safely in the corner of your consciousness.
โYou didn't mind the "background noise." In fact, as Alex and Sean began a whispered argument over the logistics of sonic screams, Charlesโs steady narration kept you grounded. You leaned against the desk, a small smile playing on your lips that the students couldn't quite decipher.
โBy the second period, however, the "background noise" began to shift.
โThe book had been set aside. As you moved through a lesson on the ethics of anonymityโironic, considering your own natureโCharlesโs mental presence became more active. He wasn't just reading anymore; he was watching through your eyes.
โโYouโre doing that thing with your hands again,โ his voice drifted into your mind, honey-sweet and distractingly intimate. โThe way you adjust your cuffs when youโre trying to look stern. Itโs adorable, really.โ
โYou paused mid-sentence, your chalk hovering over the board. "Charles, Iโm trying to teach," you projected back, a sharp but affectionate mental nudge.
โโI know. And youโre doing a marvelous job. But the bed is so very cold, and your thoughts are so very warm,โ he replied. You could almost feel the phantom sensation of his fingers brushing against your temple. โI find myself wondering why youโre still wearing that face. The 'handsome professor' mask.โ
โYou felt a flush creep up your neck. You turned back to the class, seeing Havok tilting his head at your sudden silence. โUh, Professor? You okay?โ
โโFine, Alex. Just... lost my train of thought,โ you murmured, clearing your throat.
โโYou shouldnโt hide it from me,โ Charles continued, his voice dropping an octave in your mind, becoming a private hum that made your knees feel inexplicably weak. โI love the blue of your skinโthat deep, cerulean hue. I miss the way the patterns on your shoulders feel under my fingertips, like Braille for my soul. You are irresistible like this, truly, but I crave the man beneath the shift.โ
โIt was becoming impossible to concentrate. Charlesโs longing was a physical weight, a magnetic pull trying to drag you back down the hallway to his room. You could feel his appreciation for your current formโthe sharp jawline and tailored suitโbut it was underscored by a deep, telepathic hunger for your truest self.
โโCome back to me soon,โ he whispered, the thought wrapping around you like a physical embrace. โI want to see the real you. No masks. No students. Just us.โ
โYou gripped the edge of the podium, your knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to dismiss the class then and there. You were a shapeshifter, but in that moment, under the weight of Charles Xavierโs undivided attention, you felt utterly seen.
The bell rang, signaling a fifteen-minute reprieve that felt more like a lifeline. As the students gathered their bags and shuffled outโAlex making a crack about lunch and Sean whistling tunelesslyโyou didn't move from your desk. You dropped into the leather chair, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. The "static" of the hallway faded, and you let the mental barriers youโd been holding up all morning fall away.
โInstantly, Charles was there.
โHe had returned to his book, but only for a few lines. "'I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil,โโ he quoted, his mental voice soft and resonant, like a cello being played in a quiet room. Then, you felt the "shift" in his focus. The book was closed; you could almost hear the soft thud of the cover hitting the mattress.
โโYouโre exhausted, my love,โ he murmured. The words felt like a cool hand being pressed to your forehead. โI can feel the tension in your shoulders from all the way down the hall. Itโs a heavy burden, isn't it? Pretending to be so... stationary for them?โ
โYou let out a long, shaky breath, your fingers drumming against the mahogany desk. "Itโs not the teaching thatโs exhausting, Charles. Itโs you."
โA low, melodic chuckle vibrated through your mind. โIs it? I thought I was being quite helpful. Providing a soundtrack for your morning.โ You felt a playful, flirtatious sparkโa flash of an image in your mindโs eye of Charles propped up on one elbow, the blankets discarded, his eyes dark with a very specific kind of mischief. โPerhaps if I were there, I could help you โdecompress.โ I remember quite vividly how you react when I touch that spot just behind your ear... the one that stays blue even when youโre trying your hardest to be human.โ
โYour heart hammered against your ribs. "Charles, please. I have another class in ten minutes."
โโTen minutes is an eternity for a telepath,โ he countered, his tone shifting from flirtatious to something more tender, more grounding. โCome back to me, darling. Iโve asked the kitchen to leave a kettle of Earl Grey by the door. I want you to sit here, right beside me. We donโt even have to speak. Iโll read to you, or you can read to me, and I can finally stop pretending this bed isnโt twice as large as it needs to be.โ
โThe image he projected was so vivid it felt like a hallucination: the steam rising from two porcelain cups, the scent of bergamot and old paper, and the heat radiating from his body. He was inviting you into his sanctuary, offering a world where neither of you had to be "The Professor" or "The X-Man."
โโIโm quite cold,โ he added, a note of genuine, soft vulnerability creeping back into his voice. โAnd you always were my favorite way to stay warm. Do you remember that winter in Oxford? Before all of this? We didnโt need any fancy mansions then. Just a fireplace and you.โ
โYou felt a surge of love so strong it made your chest ache. He wasn't just being needy; he was reaching out through the fog of his own recovery, using you as his North Star.
โโFive more minutes,โ he whispered, a final, lingering caress of a thought. โAnd then you can go back to your students. But know that I am counting every second until that final bell.โ
โYou opened your eyes. The classroom felt dull and grey compared to the world Charles had just painted inside your head. You reached for your teaโnow coldโand took a sip, trying to find the resolve to stand up and face the third period.
The fourth period was a blur of frustration. You were trying to explain the ethics of mental privacyโa bitter irony, considering Charles was currently broadcasting a vivid memory of a rainy afternoon in Westchester directly into your cerebral cortex. His mental voice was a low, velvet purr, recounting the way your skin felt under a silk sheet, and it was driving you to the brink of madness.
โWhen the classroom door creaked open and Hank McCoy poked his head in, looking weary but finished with his lab work, you nearly fell over with relief.
โ"Iโve got the rest of the lecture, if you need a break," Hank offered, his eyes darting between you and the restless students. He didn't need to be a telepath to see the sheer distraction written across your face.
โ"Thank you, Hank. Truly," you managed to say, gathering your notes with trembling hands. You didn't wait for a second invitation. You practically bolted from the room, your footsteps echoing through the corridors of the mansion.
โBy the time you reached the heavy oak door of your shared suite, your heart was hammering against your ribs. You pushed inside, the click of the lock behind you sounding like a starting pistol.
โThe room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the afternoon sun. Charles was exactly where youโd left him, propped up against a mountain of pillows. A tray sat on the nightstandโErik must have swung by to drop off the tea, as the metal pot was levitating just an inch off the tray in a way that suggested the Master of Magnetismโs lingering touch.
โCharles looked up, a triumphant, knowing smile spreading across his face. "You're early," he remarked, though his eyes betrayed his delight.
โYou didn't answer with words. You stood in the center of the rug and let go.
โIt started as a ripple at the base of your spineโa release of the constant, exhausting tension required to maintain a human facade. Your height dipped, your frame becoming leaner and more agile as you shrank by several inches. The peach-toned skin of your hands and face began to swirl, the color bleeding away into a deep, mesmerizing cerulean. The faint, indented patternsโthe ridges that Charles loved so muchโblossomed across your shoulders and down your spine like ancient, elegant script.
โYou let out a long, shuddering breath, your chest expanding as your true lungs finally took in the air. You felt lighter, faster, and infinitely more yourself.
โCharles watched the transformation with a hunger that wasn't about lust, but about recognition. "There he is," he whispered, setting his tea down with a trembling hand. "Thereโs my beautiful boy."
โYou began to strip away the restrictive professorโs attire. The stiff cotton shirt hit the floor, followed by the slacks, until you were standing in the sunlight, your blue skin shimmering. You reached into the wardrobe for a pair of soft, worn silk lounge pantsโsomething that didn't chafe against your natural form.
โAs you dressed, you could feel Charlesโs gaze roaming over the patterns on your skin, tracing the lines telepathically before he could do so physically. The air in the room felt thick with a sudden, peaceful quiet. The "noise" of the school was gone; there was only the sound of his breathing and the soft rustle of your clothes.
โ"I told you," Charles said, his voice dropping to that intimate register that had haunted you all morning. "Irresistible. Come here. Iโve kept the tea warm, and the bed warmer."
โYou finished tying the drawstring of your pants and turned toward him, the last of the morning's stress evaporating. You weren't the substitute teacher anymore, and he wasn't the paralyzed leader of a revolution. You were just two souls, finally catching your breath in the middle of a storm.
The bed creaked softly as you finally climbed in beside him, the weight of your body creating a familiar dip in the mattress. The cool air of the room hit your bare chest for only a second before you slid beneath the heavy, sun-warmed duvet.
โCharles didn't hesitate. He shifted as much as his body would allow, opening his arms to welcome you into the space heโd been guarding for you all day. As you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, the scent of himโexpensive soap, old paper, and a hint of the Earl Grey teaโwashed over you, instantly silencing the last remnants of the day's frantic energy.
โ"You're freezing," Charles whispered, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, his hands splaying across your back.
โHis fingers found the ridges of the patterns on your shoulder blades, tracing them with a reverent slowness. To anyone else, those indentations might have seemed alien, but to Charles, they were a map he had long ago memorized. You felt a soft hum of approval vibrate through his chest and into yoursโa telepathic purr of contentment.
โ"It was cruel of me, I know," he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your temple. "To pull at your mind while you were trying to manage those rowdy boys. But I find that when Iโm stuck in this room, the walls start to feel... rather close. Your mind is the only place I can truly go for a walk."
โYou tilted your head back to look at him, your deep gold eyes meeting his piercing blue ones. โYou don't have to apologize for wanting me, Charles,โ you hummed, your voice now clear and undistorted by the effort of your disguise. โBut I think Alex Summers might actually believe in ghosts now, considering how many times I stared blankly into corners while you were talking to me.โ
โCharles laughed, a genuine, chesty sound that made the phantom pains in his legs seem a thousand miles away. "A small price to pay for his education."
โHe reached out, his hand cupping your jaw. His thumb brushed over your blue cheekbone, noting the way your skin feltโdifferent from the human mask, more supple, slightly cooler, and infinitely more sensitive. "I hate that you feel you have to hide this," he said, his voice turning serious. "The world is so desperately drab, and here you are, a masterpiece of evolution, hiding under polyester and tweed."
โ"I don't hide it for them," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "I hide it so that when I come back here and let it go, it belongs only to you. Itโs the only thing I have that isn't for the X-Men or the school."
โCharlesโs expression softened, a look of profound, humbled love crossing his features. He pulled you closer, tugging the quilt up until it shielded both of you from the rest of the world. He picked up the book from the nightstandโthe one heโd been reading to you earlierโbut he didn't open it yet.
โInstead, he simply held you, his legs tangled uselessly but safely with yours, his mind intertwined with your thoughts so tightly that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
โ"Read to me?" he asked softly, pressed the book into your blue hands. "My voice has had enough exercise for one morning."
โYou took the book, opening it to the marked page, but before you began, you pressed a firm, lingering kiss to his lipsโa promise that for the rest of the afternoon, you weren't going anywhere.
