what about my wings, what about wendy? @sprnklersplashes - Tumblr Blog

Aug 7

raising stardust (2/4) ao3

ko-fi

As Ilya predicted, the heat dies down. Some people come out in support, then those “some” turn into a lot, including one Tweet that says ‘I supported Shane Hollander when I thought he punched a person in a grocery store for fun’. That genuinely gets a laugh out of him.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

Meanwhile, time is moving on.

They have a toddler now. She’s walking everywhere, scurrying on tiny, chubby legs. There’s a near-permanent arch in Shane’s back from chasing after her. His right hand feels considerably heavier, because he needs to hold Alina’s hand everywhere they go. He’s gotten used to the feeling of little hands against his thigh and the persistent demand of “up, up”.

She pulls herself up to the couch when they watch TV. She stands up in her crib and shouts “hi” until someone comes to get her. They put a baby harness on her and take her for (short) walks around the street and she stops every 30 seconds because she found something new.

Shane blinked and suddenly the internet drama and the sponsorships and even the Stanley Cup are meaningless, because he has a tiny person now and it is his job to make sure she doesn’t get hit by a car.

*******

They take her to the cottage in the summer to get out of the city and spend time with Shane’s parents. Yuna can’t get her out of the car fast enough, leaving Shane and Ilya to carry their bags up. Ilya shares a small look with him as Yuna carries her in, as if to say ‘this is our life now, can you believe it?’.

Shane can’t.

One time, they had to hide up here. Shane lied to his parents, Ilya lied to his teammates. They turned off their phones, christened every surface in this place, and cooked up a plan so impossible it was doomed to fail. They were in their 20s, euphoric and in love and scared out of their minds.

Now they’re in their 30s, and they casually kiss against the table, and there’s a playpen set up in the living room and a crib next to their bed.

Shane makes burgers for dinner, despite his dad’s insistence that he can do it and that Shane go enjoy himself. He slices Alina’s into little strips and they all laugh as she gets condiments in her hair and on her cheeks.

They take her out to the lake and Ilya helps her dip her toes in. At first, she cries out at how cold it is and clings to Ilya like a liferaft. Then, Ilya walks in with her on his chest, step by step, until her feet dangle in the water. She gasps, and looks like she’s about to scream, but then Ilya mutters something to her and she giggles. She spends all day making ripples on the water’s surface and trying to catch sunbeams as they dance on the surface. Yuna gets out the baby floatie and she bobs along like it’s nothing. At one point, Ilya gives her a juicebox and the image of her with her legs crossed on the floatie sipping juice makes Shane laugh so hard his sides hurt. Ilya splashes her and Alina’s high-pitched squeals fill the air, so far removed from the quiet they both craved.

They spend their days playing with her and their nights drinking by the fire with Shane’s parents. Sometimes they talk about hockey, sometimes about hometown gossip. Sometimes they just sit there, toes touching, blanket thrown around their legs while the wine makes the world fuzzy at the edges.

One night, Alina wakes up inexplicably and calls out “Papa!” while they’re in the middle of debating Ryan Price’s new trade, and Ilya has no choice but to bring her out to the porch and act as sober as possible until she falls asleep again.

Shane takes hundreds of photos on that trip. None of them ever make it to Instagram.

*******

Christmas that year feels different. Alina feels different, and yes, Shane says that all the freaking time, but she’s so much bigger than she was this time last year. Shane didn’t know how much a human being could grow in less than two years and it should make sense, because all the parenting books said there would be rapid growth between zero and two but damn, Shane is carrying around a little chonker who giggles all the time and tries to pull Christmas decorations off the tree. She believes in all the magic, Santa Claus and reindeers and little elves making her toys.

On December 23rd, Shane comes home to the absolute surprise of his life. Ilya-his husband, fierce, terrifying, asshole and love of his life Ilya Rozanov-has bought matching pyjamas. For the two of them and for Alina in the same pattern, plus a coat for Anya. They’re laid out on the bed when Shane gets in, and before he can even form an opinion Ilya walks in with Alina clad in her red plaid onesie. Ilya jiggles her and she giggles and reaches out to Shane, a stream of babbling nonsense emerging from her mouth.

Now that’s just not fair, Shane thinks, because how is he meant to object when she looks so freaking cute?

The photo is equally cheesy. Well, photos. They do one of himself, Ilya and Alina on the couch, taken after much trail-and-error and balancing Shane’s phone on a pile of books. That one goes in the photo album.

The second one is trickier. Ilya wants to do a Christmas post, and his mom encourages it, and hell Shane wants to do it too. And he wants to show their matching pyjamas and tell everyone that they are a matching pyjama family. But he doesn’t want Alina in the photo at all.

They experiment with different formats. They go for just the two of them, but it’s not a family photo. Shane then picks up Alina and puts her on his lap, trying to work out how to include her without showing her face. It doesn’t take him long to wonder if he should be doing it at all, and after that the ugly memory of the grocery store raises its head-

“What if you put an emoji over her face?” Ilya asks. Shane blinks. “Is pretty easy. It’s what momtalkwithlaura does.”

“Who?”

“Momtalkwithlaura. She is on Instagram.”

Shane raises his eyebrows.

“You follow a mommy vlogger?”

“She gives good parenting advice,” Ilya says. “I like her skits.”

It’s not a bad idea. Shane sits back on the couch, Alina on his lap. She’s chewing one finger while looking up at the Christmas lights. Shane follows her with his eyes while Ilya sets the camera and timer up and rushes back to the couch, his arm sneaking around Shane’s shoulders and giving a quiet squeeze.

They’re still for about a second, and then the timer changes on the string of fairy lights behind them. The colours start changing, flickering from red to blue to green and Alina is delighted. She gasps and reaches for it, tiny feet digging into Shane’s thigh. Ilya reacts immediately and goes to steady her, and she starts attempting to name the colours, “Boo! Geen! Boo!” and Shane is charmed by her.

And that’s the picture. Alina reaching above her, Ilya holding her steady and Shane looking up to where the lights flicker. He likes the way he looks in this one. Nothing to do with his physique or his body; he likes the way his head is thrown back, he likes the laugh lines creasing around his eyes.

In the spirit of the season, he posts a Santa emoji over her face.

Comments come in;

“You can just tell they were meant to be parents <3 Happy holidays boys”

“Gorgeous little family.”

“Be still my beating heart”

“Showed this to my boyfriend and said ‘I want one’. He asked if I meant a buff hockey player or a baby. I just said yes.”

“Mr Hollander you cannot post this while I am ovulating.”

“Over here reminding myself that I can’t afford a baby right now and that I am still in college.”

*******

Shane adjusts his sleeves. The podcast room is mercifully dimmer than a TV studio, and the couch cushions beneath him is definitely more comfortable than a press conference chair.

It was Yuna’s idea. Shane made his grand return to hockey this season, having taken half of last season off to take care of Alina. Now he has hit the ice with full force, the fans are once again in love, and the wins are rolling in. All that was needed, according to his mom, is an interview to cushion the landing, and, according to Yuna again, podcasts are the new thing.

“It’s good for the new image,” she told him. “The press conference is going to want to talk about your game, your stats, all that. This is your chance to talk about how you feel being back on the ice, how you’re adjusting to parenthood.”

“And I need to talk about that?”

“If you want to control the narrative, yes,” she’d said.

“Is this about-” he went to ask, but stopped himself. No-one has brought up the incident in the grocery store in over a year, save for a couple of petty Metros fans who hated him for moving.

He exhales. Everything is fine.

“Hey, Shane!”

He looks up from his clasped hands. Nicky-the overly enthusiastic 20-something podcast host-is signalling him from across the room.

“We’re going to start in about 2 minutes if you’re good.”

“I’m good!”

“Amazing.”

Shane actually found the podcast himself after his mom’s suggestion. He started listening to it a couple of weeks after Alina came home and he needed to hear someone discuss something other than feeding schedules and diaper changes. And what started as a some background noise turned into something Shane actively looked forward to. For starters, Nicky was a pretty great host who took every topic with respect and endless amounts of enthusiasm.

And yeah, maybe something did resonate with him when he talked about queer athletes. Yes, he’s been out for years, but some small part of his heart still twinges when he hears these stories. Sue him.

The lights in the studio dim slightly. Nicky bounces around the room in a way that makes Shane want to ask if he’s okay. It reminds Shane a bit of his younger self, actually. Trying to make sure everything is perfect, trying to hold complete control over every minute aspect. Just do a raceswap, replace the oversized cardigan and ginger curls with straight black hair and a jersey and yep. There’s 20-year-old Shane.

After checking the equipment, script and for some reason, the chair, Nikcy sits down, gives Shane a quick thumbs-up and Shane responds back.

The door clicks closed and the red RECORDING sign flicks on.

“Good morning, good evening, good whatever time it is where you are and welcome back to What’s Up Pitches, your queer sports podcast that loves all acronyms, be it LGBT, NFL or MLH. My name is Nicky Gillan, my pronouns are he/they and I will be your host today.” Shane huffs a laugh. Part of the reason he reached out to do this podcast is because of Nicky and despite the kid’s own nerves, his expertise on the mic puts Shane’s at ease. “And today we have a guest who needs no introduction but we will introduce him away. Youngest-ever captain of the Montrael Metros, back-to-back Stanley Cup winner, now one of the most coveted players on the Ottawa Centaurs, one half of the biggest power couple in sports, co-founder of the Irina Foundation and voted Sexist Man Alive by no less than three different publications, ladies gentlemen and variations it is Shane Hollander!”

A recording of an applauding crowd plays and Shane bursts out laughing.

“Shane,” Nicky says. “Thank you so much for coming on the podcast.”

“No, thank you for having me. And for that amazing introduction.”

“Now, I won’t lie. When I got this email from your manager-by the way, your manager has the same last name as you. That a coincidence?” Shane laughs again and Nicky leans into the mic. “This is a shout-out to Yuna, hi Yuna!”

“Hi Mom.”

“When this email landed in my inbox I was so excited. Do you know how many hockey podcasts have tried to get you on as a guest?”

“Yes, because all their emails are still in my deleted folder.”

“Suck it Man In The Crease,” Nicky says. He takes a breath, settles down in his chair. “Okay, so let’s get down to business. I suppose we’ll start with the main thing, really, which has been your return to hockey this season following a break last season.”

“That’s right.”

They go from there. Nicky is perfect at letting Shane go on when he needs to and structures the conversation in a way that it doesn’t even feel like an interview. They talk about how Shane felt coming back to hockey; the nerves, the anticipation, but just the excitement. It’s a rare occurrence where Shane can just talk about how much he loves the sport, not goal campaigns or season predictions. He can talk about how he feels on the ice, how he structures a move. At one point, Nicky asks him to rank the Centaurs in order of who is the most fun at parties and Shane almost spits out his ginger ale.

“The Centaurs though, they’re like… they’re not like my kids, but we’re a family. That’s the dynamic we have kind of created on the team. I can’t say who out of my family is the most fun at a party.”

“So I take it the game of fuck, marry, kill is out as well?”

“I think my husband would have several things to say if I played that.” He clears his throat.

“Would you be willing to do it with the New York Admirals?”

“Not a chance dude.”

“Oh my god, Shane Hollander just called me dude,” Nicky whispers in an awestruck voice. He straightens his spine and leans on the table. “That does bring me quite nicely into the other big thing that has happened in your life, indeed the reason you had to step back last season, which is that you’re a dad now.”

“I know right!”

“And of course, it’s not a new thing because, how old is your baby now?”

“She’ll be two in April.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah. Like, honestly it’s one of those things where I can’t remember what my life was like before I had her and on the other hand, I’m like, it’s like I blinked and she’s this age now. It’s like ‘wow this has been two years’ and also ‘wow it’s only been two years’.”

“Yeah, and that is the thing with parenting isn’t it? It’s that expression the days are long but the years are short. But let me be the first to say Shane, or at least say on the record, you are glowing when you talk about her.”

Shane rubs behind his ear.

“You are clearly the proudest dad she could have.”

“Thank you.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how many photos of her do you have on your phone right now?”

“Um, I think it’s in the 3000 mark now. Every couple of months I make a point to delete any duplicates or print some out, but yeah. 3000. 3500 I think.”

“Holy shit!”

“Hey, if you think that’s bad you should see my dad. My parents’ entire house is just photos of her. It’s like I don’t even exist anymore.”

“You’ve been outdone.”

“I know. It’s so tragic.”

“So are you starting her on hockey?”

“It’s-” He looks up, moves back and forth in his chair. “It’s-I mean we are, because both her dads are hockey players. We’ve taken her out on the ice. I’ve been holding her while watching games and she has like a little tiny jersey and little mini hockey sticks that her grandparents got her. But in terms of you know, do we want her to grow up to play hockey, that’s for her to decide. Right now she just likes hitting the dog with the hockey stick.”

“Oh damn, have you told her she’s not allowed to do that?”

“Yep.”

“Does she listen?”

“You’re asking me if Ilya Rozanov’s daughter listens to a word I say to her?” he asks. His hand flies to his mouth, his cheeks pink. “Can we edit that out?”

“We’ll discuss after the episode.”

“Oh I am sleeping on the couch tonight.”

From there, they do Shane’s favourite thing in the world and talk about Alina. For the first time since he sat down, Shane’s nerves creep in. Not because he doesn’t trust Nicky; on the contrary, the kid is so respectful of Shane’s boundaries and always asking about Shane being a parent rather than the juicy details on Alina. It’s because that damn Tweet is in the back of his mind, and because every time he mentions something about Alina, he wonders if he overstepped and she will resent him in 16 years.

“Now Shane, you’ve done something kind of… I guess not unconventional in terms of parenting but definitely in terms of this world of celebrity, and that’s that you’ve kept your kid’s life incredibly private.”

“Is that unconventional?” Shane asks.

“It… shouldn’t be,” Nicky says delicately. “But in this world of celebrity and social media… was it difficult decision to do this?”

“Not at all. I mean, when Ilya and I started talking about having kids and everything that came with it… look we know we’re public figures.” He takes a breath, presses his palms against his legs. “And we know there are some people interested in our lives, not just our hockey careers. But we also know that the reason we had a kid is because we want to be parents and to give them a good life.” Another breath. “And social media, you know, that’s it’s own beast. Like, you can have as many controls on your account as you want, but you don’t know who’s on the other side of the phone and what their intentions are.”

“Absolutely. I mean you see all these family channels nowadays and it honestly feels invasive on the parents’ part. Have you ever seen that?”

“No, I try to avoid that content as much as I can,” Shane says. “Ilya is a fan of… I think it’s MomTalkWithLaura. And I get some parenting skits and stuff on my feed, but I think when it comes to the family vlogging, it just freaks me out too much to watch it.”

He doesn’t mention how once Ilya was out of town and he spent hours doing deep dives on the worst family channels out there. Shuddering at those kids with their perfect smiles and scripted lines and something not quite right behind their eyes. It gave him nightmares, once or twice.

Mercifully, Nicky changes the subject.

“So do you think being a parent has changed the way you play?”

“Oh 100%.”

“In what way?”

“I’m… a lot more careful than I used to be. And I think a lot of that just comes with age as well, like I’m not as hungry for a fight as I was when I was younger. But I also know that if I get hurt out there, it’s not just Ilya or my parents that are impacted. Like if I have to go to hospital and I have to stay there overnight, you know, touch wood it doesn’t happen. But if I do, then I miss her bedtime routine. She’s sitting there wondering why I’m not there, or she’s worrying about me and wondering if I’m okay. And so that’s something I have to be mindful of a lot more now.”

“You still chirp a little bit on the ice.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shane says. “But you know, I keep thinking about what happens if she’s older and she finds videos of me with blood running down my face or something, you know? I know it’s part of the game and as long as I’m in the game I can’t change that. But yeah, I guess I’m just a little more careful now.”

“Can you imagine trying to tell that to the Shane Hollander who started a fight with Scott Hunter on the ice that he was holding back now?”

“Oh my God.” Shane hides his laugh behind his hand. “I think his little mind would be blown.”

“Okay we are steadily running out of time, but on that, I guess I do have one last question, which is, what do you think rookie Shane would make of your life now. You know, you have had some amazing career highs, and admittedly some lows with the team change.” Shane nods. “And as for your personal life, you married your arch-rival, and you have a baby girl. Like… would that be a lot for young Shane to take in?”

He goes quiet. This is something he thinks about, honestly.

“I think… I think younger me would have a lot of questions. Like damn, a lot of questions. But, knowing what I know now. Knowing that I’m happy and what we went through to get it….” A lump appears in his throat. His eyes mist over and he carefully swipes at his face. “Yeah. Yeah, younger me would be amazed at seeing what we have now.”

After the podcast, Nicky pulls Shane into a surprisingly-tight hug (kid must have an amazing upper-body routine) and thanks him about 500 times for being on the podcast. They take a selfie for the promo and Shane once again is struck by how much of himself he sees in Nicky. They exchange numbers and socials and promise to keep in contact and Shane means it.

The podcast episode comes out the following week. Ilya raises an eyebrow at Shane while they listen in the car, and all he says is “okay, fuck marry kill: me, Hunter, Hayden”.

And that is when Alina, who they thought was asleep, learns three new words and Shane almost crashes the car.

******

Time just keeps going, as it tends to do. Nicky was on to something when he said the years are short. In no time at all they’re celebrating Alina’s second birthday, and she drops another bottle, and the babbling ‘dada’ becomes ‘Daddy!’. She’s transitioned from feetie pyjamas to actual pyjamas and they can put her hair in little braids and ponytails now. Worst of all, they decide it’s time to move her to a ‘big girl bed’.

Shane and Ilya spend longer than either of them should standing in the nursery and staring at the crib. It’s the right thing to do; Alina is far too big for it and really, they should have moved her a few months ago, because she’s already trying to climb out of the crib herself and is one growth spurt away from doing it. Hell, they’ve started putting her down for naps in their bed to get her used to the idea.

It’s the right move but Shane wants to dig his heels in.

They put baby Alina in that crib and rocked her to sleep. They’ve sat in that glider at every hour imaginable while nursing her.

“So… what do we do with the crib now?” Ilya asks.

“I guess… I guess it goes in the attic now.”

Until the next one comes along. The thought hits Shane like a speeding car. He doesn’t know why it unsettles him; they knew they wanted more than one. It just feels incredibly… real now.

Shane spends approximately five hours researching toddler beds. It’s likely only because of Ilya placing food and water beside him that he eats or drinks. Ilya also slaps him on the shoulder and tells him “go pee” around hour three and Shane realises how full his bladder is.

He shows Ilya the research and the shopping cart he has assembled. A white bedframe with rises on both sides to keep her secure, a quilted mattress with good breathability (he plans on testing it himself before buying, just to be sure) and four bedspreads, two for summer and spring and two for autumn and winter. To sweeten the deal for her, Shane plans on using the dolphin one to introduce it because dolphins are her current obsession.

“So…” Shane asks. “What do we think?”

“You did five hours of research. You made a spreadsheet and gave every bedframe, mattress and bedspread a score out of 10.” Ilya looks up at him, blue eyes deadly serious. “I have never been more attracted to you ever. In my life.”

Shane laughs and goes to make a quip about every time Ilya makes fun of his research. But then Ilya’s lips are on his and his hands are on Shane’s hips and the laptop clatters to the floor.

Thankfully, Shane bought an incredibly sturdy and robust model.

Research skills.

Building the bed is an adventure in itself. The two of them thought it would be easy, but maybe that was some macho-man instinct they are now being humbled by the universe for, because why is assembling a flat-pack of furniture so damn difficult?

“It says I need to put the screw into hole A.”

“You need to put it where?”

“In the hole.”

“In the what?”

“Shane what is wrong with you, I need to put it in the-” Ilya looks up, exasperated and surrounded by various bits and pieces of their daughter’s bed. Shane snickers and hides behind his mug, and realisation dawns in Ilya’s face.

“No Ilya you ned to put it in the what again?”

“Fuck you, Hollander,” Ilya says, but he’s grinning.

“I think you’ll find it’s Hollander-Rozanov now.” He kneels beside him. “What needs to be done?”

From there, they slip into their routine, just like on the ice. Hollander-and-Rozanov. Ilya needs something and Shane hands it over without thinking. They move together, clicking pieces into place until they step back and, there it is.

Alina’s very own ‘big girl bed’. Ilya comes back with the pillow and the comforter and Shane almost wants to tell him not to, because it won’t be real if they don’t finish it. They arrange all her stuffed animals around it, setting them just the way Alina likes them. Shane’s throat closes, because he’s holding the bunny Yuna for her when she was 3 months and now he’s on her toddler bed.

Shane snaps a quick picture minutes before a knock at the door tells them Alina is back from her girl’s day with Rose. Ilya squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek before going downstairs, voices float from the hallway about a “special surprise” and Alina’s larger-than-life excited gasp. Something flutters in Shane’s stomach that tilts him towards the sweet end of bittersweet, and when Ilya nudges the door open he’s smiling, really smiling when he had been ready to cry two minutes prior.

Alina emerges into the room, eyes bright, wearing an outfit she definitely did not leave the house in. She’s all big smiles and giggles and running to Shane, only to stop when she sees the bed. Her little mouth falls open, and for exactly three seconds it’s so quiet they could hear a pin drop.

Then Alina screams, with all the power in the world, “DOLPHIN BED!” and clambers onto it like it’s the last life raft from the Titanic.

“OH MY GOD, DOLPHIN BED!”

Ilya steps in, Rose in tow, and immediately starts laughing.

“Good call on the dolphins,” he murmurs to Shane. Rose chats away to Alina, matching her enthusiasm and then getting dragged on to sit with her. Alina introduces all of her stuffed animals to her in detail, and Rose expertly manages listening to her and filling Shane and Ilya in on their girls’ day.

After he puts her down and gets her to sleep, Shane lingers outside her room for longer than he should. Far longer. Just in case she needs him.

Just in case.

He puts the post up the next day, because it looks good and it’s a milestone and for all his talk about social media, yes, he wants to share this milestone with the rest of the world.

It’s just a photo of the finished bed, with the lengthy caption ‘pro tip for any toddler parents; get them a bedspread with something they love. my kiddo said “no” every time we told her she was getting a big girl bed. she changed her tune the minute she saw the dolphins.’

He reads it over, hits post and mutes his phone. Hundreds of strangers reply to his story over the next 24 hours, telling him how cute it is and sharing their own parenting anecdotes and plugging their small business. He reads some of them, mainly the ones talking about their own parenting struggles, but resists the urge to go further.

For a few days, nothing out of the ordinary happens.

Then about two weeks later, Yuna calls Shane while he’s running on the treadmill. Apparently, their PO box is stuffed with dolphin-themed merchandise and six different toy companies have asked if they want to advertise some new ocean-related something or other.

Shane hits the emergency stop immediately, his heart hammering from the run. He lifts his phone from the deck and takes a swig from his water bottle.

He’s only shaking because of the adrenaline, he tells himself.

“How would I even advertise it? Like just pose with the thing?”

“Well, ideally they would want you to film your own video. Talk about how great it is. Maybe show Alina playing with i-”

“Mom.”

“Honey, I made clear to them your rule that she doesn’t appear in any videos or posts.” There’s a small pause. “She doesn’t have to be in them, not her face at least-”

“No,” Shane says. It comes out harsher than he thought it would, like a grey Ottawa wind, but he doesn’t correct himself. Not even when Yuna blinks behind her large glasses and it becomes one of those rare times where Shane sees her speechless.

“Okay. Okay, I get it.” She links her fingers together and casts her eyes down.

They’ve had this conversation before. Numerous times. Conversations about ‘image’ and ‘brand deals’ and ‘people are interested’. Formula companies were in his inbox before Alina made it home. Mom had employed the ‘gentle pushing’ that Shane has grown so accustomed to, telling him he doesn’t actually have to give Alina that brand if he doesn’t want to, just for the video. Shane had asked if that meant she wanted him to lie, and the conversation ended there until the next time.

“Tell them ‘thanks but no thanks’,” he sighs. “We’re not advertising any baby stuff right now. Just sticking to what we have. I’ll check out the gifts when I have the time.”

“Okay.” Yuna pauses, then, “I did give them a look-through. No razor blades, no explosives, no sedatives.”

“How did you check for explosives?”

“Well Kathy from pilates, her dog is a retired army dog, and he’s trained to sniff out bombs,” she says. It’s so casual, as if she’s mentioning what breed the thing is. Pilates classes are weird places.

He grabs his water and heads to the door.

“Is Kathy the one in the pyramid scheme?”

“No that’s Kate. Although speaking of that-”

And just like that, Yuna goes from Momager to Mom, and Shane spends the next half an hour catching up on pilates class gossip.

When he does go to check out the PO Box, he becomes so overwhelmed that he sends them all as an anonymous donation to the nearest children’s hospital.

#hollanov #hollanov fic #heated rivalry #shane hollander #ilya rozanov #heated rivarly fanfic

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