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[niemernuet]

Fun Fact:

Hulkenberg is the first Haas driver to get a drive with another team afterwards

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Where's that post about tumblr moots gracefully ignoring it when you're going through another unhinged phase when you need it? Anyway, thanks for letting me exist.

Rating: E pairing: Franjo von Allmen/Arnaud Boisset characters: Franjo von Allmen, Arnaud Boisset length: 1'500 words warning: pwp

Probably the biggest irony in life is how little a person can really learn from someone else’s experience. Arnaud remembers Justin’s bitterness a few years ago. He was still sitting at the kids’ table at the club championships then, sipping at a sickly-sweet ice cooler while across the room the older members stacked empty wine bottles as high as they could.

“Nobody fucking cares. They say they do, they promise they’ll look out for you when you come back, but it’s all a lie. You’re forgotten as soon as you’re out of their sight.”

Back then, Arnaud was at the very beginning of his career, done with school, armed with impressive results from youth championships, and ready to take on the whole world to fight for his place. He would not turn out like Justin.

Silence falls over the small garden of their chalet as the rest of the team disappears one after the other. Arnaud has pretended to follow them inside but now he stops by the door, and looks out into the night again. The bottle of beer in his hand is empty, the condensation on the glass has long since dried. When he leans against the weathered wood of the house he can feel the crinkly foil move in the pocket of his jeans. 

And now that Justin is singing an entirely different tune and is literally the life of every party, Arnaud finally agrees with his assessment from back then. People don’t care, especially people who hold your future in their hands. Sport is a business, and at the end of the day who you know matters more than what you do. 

Of course, Arnaud’s personality prevents him from shouting the anger in his heart from the rooftops; unlike Justin he bottles up his rage. He hides behind a shield of easy composure and good-natured humor, even as he prepares for another year on the second rung with only empty promises for the future.

In the house, someone turns off the light in the kitchen, dousing the patio where Arnaud is standing in darkness. Only further ahead the light shining out of the open windows on the first floor illuminates the sickly grass. Ralph is calling his family, his voice sometimes closer, sometimes further away as he walks through his room. A TV is babbling faintly from somewhere.

Quiet steps approach from the living room, and come to a halt at the threshold. Arnaud can see the bright smile even in the almost-darkness, the corners of his mouth that turn upwards as if drawn by a child, and the eyes that form two mirthful half-moons. 

“Not tired yet?” Franjo whispers.

They have been exchanging looks all week long, furtively in the beginning but soon unashamedly frank. Arnaud knows the weight of these hazel eyes by now, and even though they have known each other for five days he understands when he is happy or tired, or scared like now. Slowly he pushes away from the wall, and puts the bottle on the table in front of him. He does not have to speak, barely has to extend his hand for Franjo to step outside. They are equally tall but Franjo’s shoulders are hunched, and the almost palpable mixture of fear and excitement makes him seem smaller than he is. His breath hitches when their lips touch, and Arnaud follows him as he flinches backwards. Everything about Franjo screams of inexperience, from his palms awkwardly resting against Arnaud’s chest to his lashes fluttering down on his cheeks as he checks again and again whether he is doing things right. 

He is as young as Arnaud was when he listened to Justin’s rant that did not concern him in the slightest. Back then nothing could have made Arnaud admit fear to anyone, not even to himself. A small part in Arnaud’s brain realises it is up to him to recognise when he is going too far but that job gets exceedingly difficult with every flinch, every breathless sigh falling from Franjo’s lips. Arnaud’s kisses are sloppy, his tongue darting over Franjo’s mouth and between his teeth because he just cannot get enough of him, not after that long week watching Franjo in all states of exertion and tight clothes. A first sound, high and barely audible, escapes Franjo when Arnaud’s hand grabs his chin, steadying his head and guiding his movements. He can feel the foil crinkling in  his pocket again when Franjo pushes him back against the wall, and the need pooling in Arnaud’s groin almost sends him to his knees. He needs to bend Franjo over the table and disappear in him entirely, he needs to explore every square inch of Franjo’s body with his lips, he needs to hear more of Franjo’s soft, breathless moans, he needs needs needs.

Above their heads, Elian suddenly bursts out laughing at something, and Franjo jerks out of Arnaud’s touch. His voice is close as he asks whether he should leave the window open. Gilles’ answer comes from deeper in their room, barely more than a soft rumble, and after a few moments, the aged hinges of the window creak as it gets tilted until it rests half-open. Arnaud grins, the rush of excitement surging through his body, and he keeps grinning as he steps to Franjo, and pins him against the table. He takes his head between his hands, losing himself in the big, pleading eyes staring back at him.

“Arnaud, we…” Franjo begins but Arnaud silences him with another kiss.

“Shh,” he whispers, their lips still touching. “We can’t let them hear.”

Another kiss to swallow the choked grunt as Arnaud grinds against Franjo’s rock-hard erection. His eyes are blown wide and as round as his mouth when Arnaud plants the lightest of kisses on his lips, the still obvious fear drowned out by the overwhelming need for Arnaud to go on.

“Quiet now!”

Franjo clings to the edge of the table, his knuckles as white as the stars above them, when Arnaud falls to his knees, and pulls his sweatpants down. His thighs quiver under Arnaud's touch, the muscles taut and protruding, and his dick has leaked dark patches through both layers of fabric. It is still flowing when Arnaud pulls his pants down, and when he rubs his thumb over the head and spreads the wetness all over his shaft, and when his knees almost buckle and the empty bottle on the table topples over.

“Sshhh!” Arnaud giggles, his hands wandering from Franjo’s thigh over his hips and further to his hand clamped to the edge of the table. Franjo is breathing heavily through his nose, and biting down hard on his lip.

“Touch me!” Arnaud whispers, and taps his finger against his unmoving hand. “Come on!”

Slowly, as if under great agony, Franjo manages to unfurl his hand, and Arnaud guides it until it is buried in his hair just right. With a satisfied hum he takes Franjo in his mouth and runs his tongue over the leaky spot. Franjo groans, short and low, the grip around Arnaud’s hair gets tighter, and his hips jerk forward. Arnaud swallows the warm, salty liquid pooling in his mouth, relaxes his jaw to take all of Franjo, and sucks eagerly as his dick hits the back of his tongue. Above him, Franjo is hunched over, the hand gripping Arnaud’s head following his movements with just the tiniest bit of force. Low grunts escape from his throat and he is panting heavily now, his mouth hanging open.

“Arnaud…” he whispers. “Fuck…”

Arnaud hums again. Franjo’s dick is heavy and large in his mouth with still enough left to wrap his hand around the bottom, and the thought about all the things he will do with him once they have more time and more space makes his own abandoned cock twitch. It does not take long, not with a barely twenty-year-old and Arnaud’s skills, before Franjo falls over the edge and with a choked moan comes in spurts. Arnaud swallows eagerly around Franjo’s dick until he pulls back, and slumps against the table. A thin thread of drools keeps connecting them, and Arnaud grins when Franjo, still heaving, wipes his thumb over his wet chin. Slowly he rises from the ground, pressing their bodies together once more even as Franjo flinches back from Arnaud’s lips and the remains of his own spunk in the corners. He grabs Franjo’s hands from his waistband, and holds them by the wrists.

“Not tonight,” he whispers hoarsely against Franjo’s cheek. “Once I’m done with you, you’ll be in no shape to get back in a room with Lars.”

Franjo shudders but grinds his hips against Arnaud’s aching dick. “He’s asleep by now, he won’t see me.”

Arnaud snorts softly, combs back the long strands of Franjo’s bangs back, and plants a kiss on his temple. 

“When you hear the shower through the walls in a few minutes, just know that I’m thinking of you.”

Franjo stays glued to the table when Arnaud leaves him, and feels his way through the dark living room. The wrapper in his pocket crinkles again when he climbs the stairs. He runs his fingers over the smooth foil. There will be plenty of time to use it still.

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Web weaving ex rivals are competing again

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i can not believe how much doing the bare minimum stresses me out

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cannot fucking wait for the new ski season honestly; how could a season with hirschersen competing but also odi vs. marcel!!! and marcel and lucas competing for felix‘s affections!!! and brazil and the netherlands possibly being top ski nations…. how could such a season ever disappoint?!

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imagine if he did make a comeback tho…

by god it’s marcel hirscher with a steel chair

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I don't like to go off too hard about people I don't like anymore (maybe a sign of my age...), I'm just here for the fun and all the unprotected sex heartfelt lovestories fantasy of it all, and simply ignore stuff I don't like (ahem...Feller, Petra, our resident antivaxers...).

That is, had I been on sportsblr a few years ago, this here would for sure have been an unironic Hirscher hateblog. Nowadays I find him more amusing but tbh I also find his personality rather abrasive and I would nooot have been able to keep quiet when he was at his peak. Also, I was 👀 him hard when he and his wife divorced so shortly after his retirmenent. Either she realised that he is insufferable to be around fulltime, or he realised that he doesn't actually care for the domestic life and both ways he kind of sucks.

It probably won't end the way he's imagining this, for sure in gs because there is Odi, and for like 85% sure in slalom too because he's, you know, 35. But if he should manage to get a podium against all odds I'd enjoy the hell out of it. For the narrative.

(and if he does get a podium I hope Henrik will be by his side so we will either witness the first husband-husband-podium or the first public divorce in sports history. Either way history will be made)

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As an Austrian, I have mixed feelings about this. Not because I resent him for starting for the Netherlands and not for Austria (I literally couldn't care less about ÖSV 90% of the time, sorry not sorry 🫢). I've gotta say that I've never been his biggest fan, something about him just set me off (no offense please).

It just doesn't make sense to me. I mean, I've heard that he wants Van Deer on the podium and all that. But still, he had been retired for 5 years and is freaking 35 now. I don't know man, I don't know.

Also, and don't take my word on this, I really don't think that he's gonna be as good as before he left.

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ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!??

help me i can't fall for another guy

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henrik now that marcel is coming back and not for him but for the need to put his own skis on that podium

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hirscher saw henrik being shit on his skis and said fine, ill do it myself

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happy belated birthday ❗️❗️🎂🎁🎈🎉🎊🥳

Thank youuuu 🥹🥹🥹

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He's such a whimsical little guy and I can't wait for the new season.

help what does that suprise bitch marcel post mean, i am so out of the loop, what are you talking about? 😭

So, you better sit down for this.

The Austrian tabloid "Krone" announced it first but everyone and their grandmother is reposting it now so it must be pretty close to true:

Marcel is coming back next season!!!!!!!! Not for Austria but the Netherlands (his mother is from there).

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help what does that suprise bitch marcel post mean, i am so out of the loop, what are you talking about? 😭

So, you better sit down for this.

The Austrian tabloid "Krone" announced it first but everyone and their grandmother is reposting it now so it must be pretty close to true:

Marcel is coming back next season!!!!!!!! Not for Austria but the Netherlands (his mother is from there).

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ANJAAA IM LATE BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIEND LOVE YOU LOTS❤❤❤❤ jotting it down in my diary in glittery pen for next year💕

THANK YOU ALYYY!!! 😍 Love you and your outstanding taste and correct takes too. 💗💗💗

Have a wonderful day.