Illyana Rasputin x Male Reader (Y/N)
Y/N looked up at the monstrous building in front of him. The building was a 3 story, brick mansion with multiple additions added to it. To his left, it looked like a gymnasium had been built into the side of the house. Above that, a metal walkway connected to what appeared to be a greenhouse. The front door was a heavy oak slab with an ornate X-shaped knocker at eye level. Y/N hesitated before raising his hand to knock, suddenly aware of how much his palms were sweating.
Y/N had been personally invited to this mansion in the back country of Westchester County, New York, but standing before its looming façade, he couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. He wiped his palms against his jeans before finally lifting the heavy X-shaped knocker, its cold metal pressing into his fingers as he let it drop once, twice. The sound echoed unnervingly loud in his ears.
There was no immediate answer.
He looked out in the front yard and saw three kids tossing a football around, one of them floating a few feet above the grass without a care in the world. Before he could decide whether to call out to them, the door creaked open. A man that was damn near 7 foot tall and built like a linebacker stood in the doorway, arms folded. He had dark, slicked-back hair; he wore a red jacket and a pair of jeans that looked like they'd split if he flexed wrong.
"May I help you," he asked, his thick Russian accent rolling the words into something closer to a challenge than a question.
Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he was just a human in a place full of people who could probably bench-press trucks.
"Uhh…Yes, uh, I'm here," Y/N gulped hard, "to see Illyana. She invited me here."
The Russian behemoth's expression didn't change, but one eyebrow arched slightly higher. He crossed his arms and looked behind him at something only he could see. He looked back at Y/N, "What for? I've never seen you before."
Y/N felt like he was being sized up by a predator deciding whether he was worth eating. He looked to his left and noticed a blue-skinned creature peeking at him over the bushes, grinning with razor-sharp teeth before disappearing back into the hedges. He grew more and more terrified that tonight might be his last night alive. He tried to speak, but only a dry cough came out. Clearing his throat, he managed to stammer, "She's, my uh, girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" The bear-sized Russian man repeated.
"Y-y-yeah. We met at-at a, uh, rally a few months ago," Y/N managed, his voice cracking like dry wood. "Is she here?"
The Russian smirked. He moved out of the way and gestured silently for Y/N to come on in.
Y/N swallowed again, the click in his throat embarrassingly loud, as he stepped past the giant into the foyer.
The inside of the mansion was both grand and chaotic, like a cathedral of children, teens, and adults with too much power and not enough supervision. A staircase spiraled up to the left, its banister scratched in places where claws had dug in. In the kitchen, a girl with red hair and a man with red glasses tried to hold a hold a child that looked to be 5 years of age; and trying to feed himself a bowl of cereal, but instead was turning the milk into bubbles and letting them float around the room. In the living room a man with an Asian girl with a yellow coat was performing small firework tricks for some of the younger mutants, while another girl with purple hair was reading a book upside down on the couch, her feet kicked up on the armrest.
Y/N felt just followed the Russian giant deeper inside the mansion. The Russian opened a door and walked him in. Inside the room were some chairs, a pool table, and a dart board. The Russian sat down on a chair that groaned under his weight, then gestured for Y/N to sit across from him. He did so cautiously, perching on the edge of his seat.
"You say you met at rally?" the Russian rumbled. "Illyana is not the type to go to rallies."
"We bumped into each other. I was at the rally and she was mostly passing through," Y/N explained, fingers tapping nervously against his knees.
The Russian man's gaze was unrelenting. He looked at Y/N like he was either about to attack or laugh, Y/N wasn't sure which would be worse.
"What was the rally for?"
Y/N nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Mutant rights," he admitted, glancing around the room as if expecting a surprise attack. "I was, well, I still am, one of the organizers for the New York chapter. We were protesting the latest bill brought up in Albany, the one that would let landlords discriminate against mutants in housing." He hesitated before adding, "We were marching across campus and I accidentally knocked her books out of her hands cause I wasn't looking."
"You are for mutants? Or is this a recent change?" the Russian asked, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest of his chair.
"I've always been for it since I could remember. Some of my best friends in elementary onto college have been mutants--in secret," Y/N said a bit more confidently, his shoulders loosening slightly as he spoke. "They trusted me with that, and I never broke it."
The Russian's expression remained unreadable.
"My mom--you may know her--(Mother's Name) Hawkins. She was a mutant rights lawyer," Y/N continued. "She worked with the guy that runs this place for a short time before my dad had to move us out west for his job." He swallowed, realizing how small that sounded.
"I know of her." The Russian said, not budging an inch. "She used to give Henry a hard time in court."
"Yeah, uh, Hank," Y/N said, scratching the back of his neck. "Mom used to say he was brilliant but too idealistic for his own good." The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
The Russian's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. He leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking ominously beneath him. "And Illyana," he spoke, "what are your intentions with my sister?"
The question landed like a hammer blow, and Y/N felt his stomach drop. "S-s-s-sister?" Y/N stuttered, "sh-she's your sister?"
His mouth went dry as the realization hit him, this wasn't just some random mutant interrogating him. This was Piotr Rasputin. Colossus. One of the X-Men's heaviest hitters in every sense of the word. The man who could, and would, turn into solid steel and fold Y/N into a pretzel if he gave the wrong answer. He had seen on the news during the infamous "Inferno Event" footage of Piotr tearing through demonic hordes like tissue paper, his steel fists slick with otherworldly gore and not even breathing hard. He sat back in the seat, feeling like he was going to pass out.
"Yes," he nodded. "Has she not told you about her family?" Piotr's voice was low, deliberate.
"No, no she didn't. She said that she lived in a big house with a bunch of friends," Y/N confessed, realizing how ridiculous that sounded now. "She…she…oh God, I think I'm gonna be sick." The room spun slightly as he hunched forward, elbows on his knees.
Piotr watched him with a slight frown, the kind a doctor might give a patient who'd just confessed to ignoring obvious symptoms. "Breathe," he said. "She is still Illyana."
The words were meant to reassure, but they only made Y/N more aware of how little he actually knew about the woman he'd been dating for months. The girl who laughed at his broken pronunciation of Russian words. The girl who opened up to him in just a short time about her fears and dreams, but never mentioned she was related to literal superheroes. He took a shaky breath and sat up, rubbing his temples.
"I just, I had no idea. She never--"
Piotr reached over and patted Y/N on the shoulder, almost breaking his collarbone with the friendly gesture.
"In through the nose, out through the mouth," Piotr instructed, demonstrating with exaggerated breaths that made his broad chest expand like bellows. "Illyana is… private. Like a Russian nesting doll, many layers, but you must earn each one."
Y/N was about to reply to Piotr's metaphor when the door slammed open behind them. In the doorway stood Illyana herself, arms crossed, one hip cocked to the side. Her platinum hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that Y/N recognized as one he'd lost months ago.
"самый старший брат," Illyana drawled, her voice dripping annoyance. "What are you doing scaring my boyfriend?"
Her sharp blue eyes flicked from Piotr to Y/N. She instantly noticed how distressed he looked, his face pale except for two bright spots of color high on his cheeks. She walked over to Y/N's seat and placed a hand on the top of his head.
"Солнышко," she murmured, fingers threading through his hair, "He didn't break you, did he?" She asked as she leaned down, her lips brushing Y/N's temple in a gesture so casually intimate it made Piotr's eyebrow twitch slightly.
"I--You--He's…." Y/N took a breath, trying his hardest to center himself. "You didn't tell me your brother was Colossus," he finally managed, voice cracking halfway through the name.
Illyana blinked, then let out a short, sharp laugh. "Oh, please. Did you think I'd introduce you to him first?"
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