#landrova

[tinylilemrys]

Also while I'm on the topic, I truly do believe Rose x Svetlana's ship name should be landrova. Beep beep bitches we're gonna make these gals kiss.

[rozhollandrova]

so ive skimmed the hrpf side of things to get a feel for what they do there and biological dominance and submission happens to be a big thing. i read a few fics and now i really really want to write a roselana (landrova) pwhl bdsm au where we get this good old trope: svetlana is a boston winger going around as a dom when she's really a sub. the only person who really knows is ilya, who's a dom (cough cough).

she grew up in russia where i'd assume it was either be a dom and play or be a sub and don't, and switches weren't even a legal classification. she got into college in the us and plays d1 hockey for boston college while waiting to be drafted.

so she's 20/21 at this point, and extremely repressed both sexually and dynamically. enter rose landry. rose is 20/21 playing d1 hockey for boston uni and she's about as dom as one can get.

blah blah blah then they're both in the pdub, svetlana for new york and rose for montreal. couple of years pass and svetlana doesn't really do much other than hockey and party but then, she gets caught in a scandal!! and who's asked to help repair her image? that's right, the role model young dom, rose landry (the nature of the scandal is such that it involves dynamics).

meanwhile, in the background, hollanov haven't changed too much. they're both switches. shane knows what he is but ilya doesn't because like i said earlier, switches are not a legal classification in russia, and according to him, he is just a dom. i suspect you can see how this, combined with their hook-ups through the years, would be juicy as fuck.

anyway, if i map out a series, roselana (landrova) would be part one because women and hollanov's journey would be part two.

[rozhollandrova]

rose is—miraculously—on a date with svetlana. society doesn't look as deeply into two women sharing an intimate meal in the evening, both dressed in fine clothing that complement each other. entirely unplanned. this lack of scrutiny would one day turn into a lack of belief. whether that is a blessing or a curse, they are yet to find out.

anyway, rose is on a date with svetlana, and svetlana looks bothered. she doesn't seem like the type to fidget, usually, but tonight, her hands have been everywhere except for on the table or in her lap, as rose's hands have been for the past thirty minutes.

it's transferring, is the thing. rose can feel herself wanting to look around restlessly. instead, she forgets herself, where they are, and who they are, and instead reaches across the table—a lightning-quick motion—to gently lay her hand atop svetlana's. svetlana stills momentarily. rose bites her bottom lip, she can feel her eyes widen. the sudden lull has impressed upon her the gravity of what she has done.

neither of them breathes.

this thing between them is so delicate and so very new. there is a thing, that's for sure. svetlana's eyes, liquor-dark, bolt down and then back up. she looks beautiful in that outfit, rose thinks. the cream blouse sets off her skin tone nicely and the bottle-green slacks are a good contrast. a very nice contrast. rose swallows.

svetlana turns her palm up and squeezes rose's hand then, a brief pulse that is little more than half a heartbeat.

rose holds her breath.

svetlana moves her hand away.

rose looks, and sees the tiniest hint of a smile on svetlana's lips.

rose exhales, a shaky thing, and moves her own hand closer to herself.

this is fragile, but it's there. it's growing, and with the way they're both struggling to hold back laughter now, it won't be stopping any time soon.

[rozhollandrova]

sveta's heart thuds like a doomsday drum but her hands will not stop moving. her fingers sift through rose's soft, silken hair and hold on for dear life. rose herself has a death grip on sveta's waist, and sveta never knew a woman's hands could feel so much nicer than—well.

rose's lips are parted and wet when sveta leans further in, panting softly. this feeling, this euphoric high she has heard of. sveta has never felt it like this, she has never felt it just from kissing, but then rose's hand dips down and squeezes her hip. the other comes up to cup sveta's face.

and then, they are just breathing in proximity, pockets of air and expressions of relief and disbelief mingling. rose's eyes are roaming sveta's face and sveta wonders what rose sees. deep within, like a rampant, ocean wave, panic swells. her tastebuds pulse and release something that tastes like resignation. she looks up, her own gaze searching.

sveta can tell what rose wants to say.

sveta does not want to hear it.

these are dangerous waters, urged on to swirl around them by the waves of panic crashing against the carefully-built walls of sveta's heart. she cannot put a name to this. this hope in rose's eyes, this naked longing—sveta has never seen this before. not in ilya's eyes, when they used to hook up. and that was safe, that was a—well.

that was a man.

this is not.

rose is not.

sveta is not.

these are dangerous waters, and sveta does not want to drown in them.

she pulls away right when rose leans in again. rose stops herself, eyebrows furrowed. sveta just wants to pull her back and give in, but she cannot. she takes a shaky step back, and before rose can say another word, sveta walks.

every step away thrums with wrongness and there is jute around her neck. it is still loose, still just rope.

a warning echoes in her mind, a prophetic voice born of vodka, deathly fear, and unattainability: don't turn around.

sveta doesn't.

the cold air outside touches her gently; the rope never becomes a noose.

[rozhollandrova]

in my feels because of noah kahan because dashboard??? it could be about so many characters but this is one of my favourite interpretations apart from the obvious one that is ilya.

svetlana!!!

You always went lookin' for an easy way out Leave the pain you can't solve with the folks you let down

'easy way out' because half her childhood was in the us. 'the pain you can't solve' being i have money, education, and a roof—why am i still sad? and 'the folks you let down' being her mother, whom she must have disappointed in some manner as a child because sveta hasn't seen her since she was six. maybe that's when she started feeling sad. maybe that's why she started feeling sad.

Like the world just restarts, like the clock just resets Like we all just move on, like we all just forget

she grows up and she makes her connections. she squeezes every line dry and she makes the world restarts and makes the clock reset. she covers every trail and never lets anyone see her soft.

And you tell yourself lies and disguise them as facts It’ll hurt half as much if you drive twice as fast

and who does she have apart from her aging father, who dotes on her as much as an old-fashioned russian man will let himself? so she hides the spark that zips through her when she sees ethereal women and keeps her femme fatale gaze on men who would die for a singular taste. she crosses road after winding road, burning the gas, outrunning everything that could hurt her.

Just when you think that the road's straight ahead Is when the devil shows up on your dashboard again

everything is good. she is fine. her father is fine. she doesn't care about her mother anymore. everything is– and then ilya, stupid stupid ilyushka, he is with shane and now the whole world knows and sveta can't leave him out there. so she ignores her father's rants about how he'd always had his doubts and tweets out several storms and donates a veritable gold mine to queer foundations of all kinds.

Look at you go, crossin' state lines with your shadow Tryna run away, change your zip code Turns out that you're still an asshole It ain't our fault that you aren't suddenly somebody else 'Cause you've worked on yourself, got a dog You're an asshole after all

she crosses state lines, country lines, and she finds herself firmly back in boston, like she's setting down permanent roots. like she's getting a zipcode she'll have to remember. it's not their fault, she reasons. it's not her father's fault that she isn't what she'd always made herself out to be. she wasn't that somebody else, she was just somebody. it's not her mother's fault that she had been a difficult child or something. sveta doesn't know, truthfully, she isn't sure that she cares. she gets a therapist. a dog. the works. rose landry reaches out because somewhere somehow, sveta had put herself out there too. sveta doesn't think twice before blocking landry's account because it's just too messy and—she's still an asshole, after all.