1 – 7 of 7 Works in Grigori Rozanov Haunts the Narrative

  • Grigori Rozanov Haunts the Narrative ×
  1. Ilya knows this room. He’s woken up here before, more mornings than he could count. He is here again, which means he failed. Again.

    He begins to write. The memories are sharp in his mind now, but soon they'll start to smear and dissolve across his consciousness, leaving only faint impressions that will disappear altogether in a day, two at most. This note, printed on cheap hotel stationery, is the only thing that stands between him and oblivion. 


    1. You will meet Shane Hollander today. Don't be an asshole.
    2. June 2009, Draft Day -  go to the hotel gym at 11pm. Use the bike. Bring water.
    3. July 2010 - CCM photo shoot. Make sure Hollander is also there. 

     

    Or, mom said it was my turn with the time loop/time travel trope.

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    AO3:
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  2. Set several months before the tuna melt:

    The officer points at his entryway. “We noticed a doorbell camera when we entered. Is there a way we can take a look at that footage?”

    Ilya frowns. The footage would easily prove that he spent the night at home, but it would also prove that he wasn’t alone. And if these cops know Ilya Rozanov, then they definitely know Shane Hollander.

    “I’d like to know what this is about.”

    “Shane Hollander was attacked outside of his hotel early this morning. The medical staff report he was saying your name."

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  3. Following an afternoon of sex and tuna melts, Shane goes searching for the explicit rules of what being 'friends with benefits' entails. In his humble opinion, they're nailing it.

    Once friendship is on the table, Shane reconsiders the usefulness and immutability of the public rivalry narrative. Surely the NHL can make just as much money from a bromance as it can from a rivalry?

    A missed call from J.J., a dinner at All-Stars, and an ill-considered mad dash to the airport send Shane's season in a very different direction to the disciplined three-peat he'd been planning back in October.


    "This rivalry thing: it was everyone else who said we hated each other off the ice. There’s no rule that says we have to keep doing that forever.” Shane stared outside, past the blinding billboards and down at the streets below. “It was nice. Hanging out, last time.”

    He knew what it looked like when Rozanov shut down, when he closed himself off and pushed the world away. He’d finish the conversation abruptly, curt, clipped, and retreat. So Shane knew he’d won when Rozanov finally answered with: “Are we six years old, Hollander? Asking if I want to play in sandbox with you?"

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  4. thin skin by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • M
    • ?
    • ✓

    2026-08-19

    "Grief is… is kind of like sadness," he says tentatively. "But it is different."

    They look up at him, and he suddenly hates himself for no particular reason, and he hates his father, and he hates his brother, and he hates his mother, and he hates his mother's God.

    // ilya and grief.

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  5. There really was no way he would have been able to break up with Shane tonight. He is a weak, weak man. He is a weak man who needs to get the fuck out of here before he goes back on Twitter and causes problems, or before he does something else insane like sniffing through Shane’s underwear drawer or running a reverent hand across his yoga mat. All around him is Shane Shane Shane and Shane is not here. Shane is at Montreal General Hospital in unknown condition, possibly alone.

    Ilya is putting his shoes on before he fully realizes that he’s decided to go to the hospital.

     

    Shane Hollander is carted off the ice after getting hit by Cliff Marlow. An exhausted and still-grieving Ilya Rozanov spirals, makes some stupid choices, and accidentally finds himself hanging out with his situationship’s parents.

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  6. Ilya has been thinking about his mother again. Not that he ever really stops but lately...Yes, lately he is thinking about Irina Rozanova but also about Irina Sokolova. About Irina before Alexei or Ilya. Before Grigori Rozanov. Irina Sokolova - the champion figure skater. The world championship title she won. The routine she developed and agonised over and perfected but never took to the Olympics.

    And he has been doing something stupid. Something he absolutely should not be doing. But he is one year away from reaching an age his mother never got to see and he needs...something. He’s pretty sure it’s this particular something.

    But Dr. Galina has been implying that perhaps it is only stupid in the way that falling in love with your arch-rival is stupid. So maybe he should just give up already and get on with it.

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  7. Ilya makes it eight minutes and nineteen seconds before he finally gives into the urge to speak.

    “So…now we just wait?” he murmurs, staring down at the spot where his line meets the water, imagining what the feeling might be like when a fish actually bites on the worm at the bottom.

    “Yes.” Shane bites out, laser-focused on his own rod.

    Ilya sighs and looks around the calm lake, nothing but the sound of birds and the occasional lap of water against the side of their boat to fill his ears.

    “Canada continues to amaze.”

     

    For the Hollanov May Microfic prompt: Reel

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