since you're taking prompts... you should write something scandalous with retired figure skater turned lit professor viktor >:)c (- ren xoxo)
There had been plenty of speculations on what would come after figure skating for the Living Legend, Viktor Nikiforov. The most popular and commonly-agreed upon outcome was that he’d continue coaching, taking up the mantle left by his coach, Yakov Feltsman in Yubileyny Sports Palace; the younger skaters had been excited at the prospect of studying under him, especially now that his husband had retired, too. Others enumerated ideal jobs for someone as young as Viktor, barely even in his mid-thirties: modeling, acting, and a few even guessed that he would get into politics.
Viktor had the spotlight on him ever since his junior days, up until he’d gone up to the senior division, but less so. He had, of course, consistently stood on the podium with less consistent skaters, but, before his five-year golden streak at the age of twenty-two, nobody really knew what he did outside of competitive skating, besides taking care of his poodle. No one knew, besides Yakov and Lilia, that he’d taken on an undergraduate degree in comparative literature, focusing on European literature. So when Viktor and Yuuri disappeared from figure skating, hardly on any magazines and shows either as models or actors, the last place they’d expect to find the couple was in a coastal city in Wales. Viktor had breezed through his master’s and was now on his way to a doctorate, while Yuuri juggled his own study and teaching children in a small ice-skating rink that was a thirty minute walk from their rented home.
Viktor had to admit, the solitude offered by anonymity was comforting. He grazed the halls of the Arts and Letters building of the university and caught less than five turning heads. With each step, he appreciated the high, pointed arches of the windows leading up to the beautiful vaulted ceiling. The place usually looked intimidating and imposing, but the stained glass colored the rough-hewn stone walls and columns so brightly in the morning, which gave his path to his first class a sort of airy and delicate feel that reminded him of stepping onto the ice for a performance.