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#Alps Ski Resort
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Alpe d'Huez ski resort in the Alpine region of southeastern France
French vintage postcard
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life-spire · 2 years
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@takemyhearteverywhere
See more like this.
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crudostock · 2 months
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travelew · 3 months
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snowflowsblog · 1 year
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Usually T-bar ski lifts are considered uncomfortable and unsafe for kids/ beginners while going uphill. However, in many Scandinavian Ski resorts Boardie T-bars are available which are very wide, have cushioning seats and are very comfortable. Besides, beneath the T-bar there is space for advertisements. Even kids, beginners and inexperienced skiers comfortably use Boardie to go uphill. Boardie offers a better alpine experience for the skiers and snowboarders.
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fading-pictures · 1 year
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walking up the road.
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mountain-boy00 · 2 years
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rodpower78 · 2 years
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Megève
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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 months
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Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {7}
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A short skip over the winter break and into 2024 season.. Warnings: 18+ only, fluffies WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight
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Christmas Eve 2023 - French Alps The air was still when you woke to a fresh dumping of snow on the mountain. The window provided a picture of tranquillity and the embers in the fire gave a peaceful glow to the dark wood walls. Charles had disappeared at dawn for a morning ski with Arthur and you squinted against the white glare to try and find them on the mountainside. 
You probably could have gone back to sleep if it wasn’t for the door crashing open and the sudden weight of a child on your legs. Penelope crawled up to the headboard with a squeal and jumped into your arms as Max just reached the bedroom door. 
“P, watch out for auntie’s tummy,” Max reminded. She now had to watch out for yours and Aunt Vicky’s tummy, since your sister had announced her pregnancy a few weeks ago. “Sorry, she slept the whole flight so she’s full of energy. I tried to get her to play with Luka but she wanted you.”
“That’s okay,” you said as she burrowed under the blankets and put her cold feet on Lando’s back. “Are you excited for Christmas?”
Penelope nodded eagerly while Lando slowly woke and you were grateful he was wearing a hideous pair of santa-themed pyjama pants. With even more children around for Christmas this year, everyone had taken to wearing pyjamas. It was good for moments like these, but bad for quick access when you were spooning in the night.
“Papa let me open some presents early!”
Max disappeared out of the room with a wave, heading back to his suite with Kelly down the hall. The small mountain retreat had been completely rented out for another combined family holiday and at the rate the Norris’, Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s were procreating, an entire resort would be needed to host you all next year. Your bet was on Max and Lorenzo becoming fathers next. 
“How exciting! And what did you get?”
Penelope held out her arm to show a mermaid inspired charm bracelet. “That’s beautiful!”
“It’s got Ariel!” she exclaimed, pointing to a red haired mermaid as she bounced excitedly. 
“Is that an earthquake?” Lando asked as he scooped the little girl up into a hug. “No, it’s little P. Why are you waking your favourite uncle up so early?”
“You’re not my favourite,” she said with a fit of giggles.
Lando hung his head and shook it with fake sadness. “Kids are brutal.”
“Kids are honest,” you corrected before kissing his pout away.
“Gross,” P said as she screwed up her face and started to climb off the bed to find ‘Maxie’. She did a sudden u-turn and scrambled across the bed to gently touch your stomach before leaning closer and whispering, “Bye-bye, baby. Love you.”
She was gone again, this time the door swinging shut as she left with no farewell for you or Lando. He let out a little chuckle as he pushed you back into the pillows and drifted down the bed, taking the blankets with him. 
“Hello, baby,” he murmured softly to the bump. At just more than half way along your bump could no longer be mistaken for overindulgence or bloating. “You are looking lovely and round this morning.”
“Wow, you really know how to sweet talk a lady,” you chuckled as you combed your fingers through his hair.
“Shh, I’m having a conversation with my daughter, no eavesdropping,” he warned with a smirk before brushing your shirt up and pressing a kiss to your skin before continuing his conversation. The moustache and shaped beard he was slowly but surely growing thicker tickled with each whispered word, the movement of his lips dragging the coarse hairs over your sensitive skin until goosebumps prickled. 
“I can’t wait to meet you,” he said with a smile as the door creaked open and Charles walked in with wind-kissed cheeks. “I just want to hurry up and hold you.”
“Patience, mon cher,” Charles said with a grin, depositing the second layer of cashmere he had worn under his ski jacket on the coat hook. “It’s only four more months.”
Lando groaned at the reminder before shifting on the bed to make space for Charles. 
“Anything you want to add this morning?” you asked. 
You reached for the hem of the shirt, ready to pull it down if it was a no when a knock had you freeze. No, it wasn’t a knock. The thud hadn’t come from outside, but inside. You dropped the shirt and stared at the jut of your hip, right where the skin went soft as it stretched up to your ribs. That soft tissue bulged ever so slightly as you felt the strange sensation of pressure and it drew a gasp that shocked your boyfriends.
“What? What is it?” Lando asked, his voice thick with concern. 
“Give me your hand,” you ordered, already reaching for one of each as you placed them on the spot. “Shhh, just shhh.”
You felt it again and Charles exhaled a shaky breath that ended in a joyous laugh before grabbing Lando’s hand and shifting it slightly. 
“Wha-”
“Shh,” you urged as Charles pressed a finger to his lips. The silence grew and everyone held their breath, waiting.
The air wooshed from Lando with an exclamation, “No fucking way!” His eyes grew wide and he stared at his palm as if the imprint of his daughter’s foot was permanently held on his skin. “Holy shit! She…she…kicked.” 
Charles wrapped an arm around Lando as their shimmering eyes met yours. Pure happiness saturated the room, spilling out into the hall as the door opened and Oliver appeared a little worried. “Everything okay? I thought I heard Lando screeching.”
“Everything’s perfect,” Lando grinned, ignoring the joke he had heard since hitting puberty. 
“She just started kicking,” Charles explained with an equally bright grin, while you danced your fingers along your side, trying to tickle her foot. 
“Core memory unlocked, huh?” Oliver laughed at his brother’s eagerness, remembering the first kicks with his own daughters. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”
“Thanks, we’ll be there soon,” Charles said as Oliver closed the door again.
“Do we have to?” Lando asked as he curled back down and stared at your stomach intently. “I could watch this all day.”
“You can stay but I am hungry, and she is now shy,” you teased as you pulled your shirt back into place and climbed out of bed. With a groan he followed you to the walk-in wardrobe, just like you knew he would. 
“Is the powder good?” Lando asked Charles while they changed into some casual day clothes perfect for the warm interior of the retreat.
“It’s perfect,” Charles all but moaned, it was hard to believe they were talking about snow but both of them loved to ski. “Arthur wants to head back out after lunch.”
Lando looked at you and you waved a hand. “Sheesh, babe, I’m not your keeper. You can go if you want.” 
Lando hated being away the most, not that Charles enjoyed it, but there wasn’t the same level of separation anxiety that Lando had. “I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”
“On my own?” you laughed and slipped your feet into some simple flats before heading to the door. As soon as it opened the cacophony of everyone congregating in the great room down the hall spilled into your room. “I couldn’t be on my own if I tried.”
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liked by pierregasly, maxvertappen1, maxfewtrell and 1,382,589 others yourusername This kid scored the gene pool the lottery. Merry Christmas from my family to yours.
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Round One - Bahrain 2024 Fuel fumes drifted up from the pitlane to the balcony you stood upon as the start of the season's first race grew closer. It was strange to look down the entire length of billboards and see no new faces among the driver line up. Fernando still filled the garage beside Lance, but you held no resentment for your replacement. He was making the most out of an opportunity and it almost gave you hope that even after leaving Formula 1, maybe - just maybe - there was a way to get back in. 
Next year would be interesting with so many contracts up for renewal. It was a chance to see new faces on the grid, or perhaps some old faces returning if rumours were to be believed. You wouldn’t mind seeing Sebastian make a return. For the moment, everyone was still too busy talking about Lewis and his move to Ferrari to give much thought to the other shocks that might come with the disruption. The open seat at Mercedes was going to be sought after by every driver stuck in a midfield car. 
“You look deep in thought.”
You broke away from staring at the starting lights to accept a cup of herbal tea from your mother. “Just thinking about how the grid will look next year.”
“Gotta get through this one first,” she reminded. “Speaking of…it’s going to be hard having a newborn at home with those two away so much.”
“I know,” you sighed, resting your arms on the balcony rail as you blew the steam from the mug. The wall calendar at home was already marked with the first half of the season, all the nights Lando and Charles would be away circled in red ink. It had been collectively agreed that flying with a newborn wasn’t a great idea so you would only attend the races you could drive to until she was at least three months old. “This year’s calendar is fucking intense.”
“I want you to know you can call me day or night, sweetie, and I’ll be on the next plane.” She reached for your chin and turned you to face her as your throat clogged with emotion. “I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to do on your own, you saw it firsthand.”
“You’ve got your own life, I don’t want you to drop it all for me.”
She laughed softly and wrapped you in a careful hug. “You’re my daughter, you are my life, my granddaughter is too.”
“Thank you,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes, seeing the cameras in the pitlane pointed your way. “Gah, you made me cry. Now I’ll be on fucking Drive to Survive. I can already see the subtitles ‘Y/N crying as the season starts without her’. Wankers.”
Your mother narrowed her eyes at the camera and flipped them off, making you choke on a laugh. “So much maturity for a grandmother.”
“Yeah well I have been wanting to do that for a while, and I figure I can’t get you fired since you’re unemployed.”
You shared a grin and thought maybe you had more in common than you realised. You thought your fight came from Jos but now you saw a flash of it in her protectiveness and your chest warmed.
“I’m not unemployed, I’m a Lady of Leisure.” You laughed at the roll of her eyes before adding. “I might even get a Birkin for a push present to complete the initiation.”
“What the hell is a push present?”
“It’s a present a new mother gets for destroying her vagina pushing a baby out.”
It was her turn to choke on a laugh. “That’s a thing?”
“Apparently so.” 
“Does the baby not count as a gift?”
“Hmm, maybe you should go ask them?” you said as you jutted your head to the plethora of influencers walking around the grid taking selfies with everyone. She wrinkled her nose at the idea, quite content to stay out of the fray like you.
“No, thank you. Oh, there they are.”
You scanned the crowd and saw Max, Charles, and Lando walking out to the grid together, their heads huddled close as they tried to hear each other over the crowd. They made a beeline to the strips of red carpet and Max stood between the other two as they took their places for the national anthem.
“Looks like the podium lineup to me,” your mother whispered.
You chewed your lip and hoped the data from testing was as promising as it looked for McLaren and Ferrari. But you could never tell quite how much of it was real with the strategies and sandbagging. “I hope so, my boy’s need a good start this year.”
Click here for the next part.
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humanpurposes · 4 months
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So thrilled you’re taking requests! I love winter themed fics this time of year. I’m requesting modern Aemond (if not allowed then Michael Gavey) + stuck in this cabin until the storm passes/come sit by the fireplace. As much smut as you’d like with maybe a teeny bit of angst?
Thank you for taking requests, I know they will all be lovely
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A/n: Took the liberty of making this a Michael Gavey request 😈 Also this gif is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!! Shoutout @barbieaemond and all the other amazing gif makers on here. These guys are such an integral part of fandom and they deserve all our love, appreciation and credit ❤️✨
Words: 2.9k
Warnings: 18+, slight angst, handjob, thigh riding (ish), Michael Gavey being awkard, but not quite a virgin
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“Fucking skiing holiday. Should have fucking known this would be a fucking disaster.” 
Michael’s foul mouth hardly phases you anymore. When you first met him you thought he’d be a shy type of guy, with his baby blue shirts, cargos and wire frame glasses he kept pushing up with his middle finger.
You’d quickly found that he wasn’t at all like you expected. He can be abrasive, often judgemental and vulgar, not so unlike your other friends but with Michael it seems to come from a place of unashamed honesty. You sort of admire him for it.
He’s pacing the small living room and kitchen of the cabin, furiously fiddling with his mobile. You’re kneeling by the wood burning stove, hovering a lighter by the kindling in the hopes that you can light a proper fire.
You’re surprised he agreed to go on this trip at all. 
You have a few friends who do Maths, and at the start of second year they started inviting Michael to the pub on the weekends. You recognised him from your trips to the library, where he’d usually sit alone after his friend ditched him for Felix Catton.
They’d been all talking about a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year, to this little Italian village in the Alps. You didn’t— and still don’t— actually know how to ski, but spending a few nights in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow sounded like a dream. Michael had been sceptical at first but you’d managed to convince him to come when you said you’d need someone to keep you company when the others were on the slopes.
The others had all gone out as soon as you arrived, leaving Michael to get settled in the cabin.
But it’s turned out to be somewhat of a nightmare. It’s too dark to actually see the snow storm but you can hear it, shrieking and howling against the walls and windows of the cabin. You have no service, no central heating, just the small assortment of snacks you had brought with you, a packet of paprika crisps, a bar of chocolate and a prosciutto sandwich you’d bought back at the main resort, back down the mountain, back in civilisation.
“Fuck, fuck fuck!”
“What now?” You ask, still focused on the fire.
“Mobile’s fucking dead. Shit! I have a charger in my bag but the bloody electricity isn’t fucking working so I can’t fucking charge it!”
You smile to yourself as the kindling catches alight and the flames start to lick at the larger logs.
You glance over your shoulder as Michael tosses his phone on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and catches his lower lip with his teeth.
“I have plenty of charge on mine,” you say, “I’ll turn it off to save the battery and we can see if the service is working in the morning?”
Michael stares at you for a lingering moment. He can be so intense sometimes, almost unsettlingly so. “You want us to stay here all night?” he says softly.
“People know we’re here. I’m sure someone from the resort will come up when they can. Until then, we just have to wait out the storm.”
He tuts, but he knows you don’t have any other options.
You sit together with your backs against the sofa so that you can be as close to the fire as possible. The heat pleasantly burns your face and skin through your jeans and jumper. Even then, where your arm presses against Michael’s, you feel the warmth of his body beside you. 
You grab the crisps and the sandwich out of your bag, offering them both to Michael. He only takes a handfuls of crisps and when you split the sandwich in two he takes the smaller half. You offer him more of the chocolate bar but he insists he’s not hungry. You frown at that. It might not be a Crunchie, but Michael never turns down chocolate. 
“How was your Christmas?” You ask, popping a square of chocolate on your tongue.
“Fine,” he says, looking down at his hands, “had dinner with my dad and my nan, went to see my mum on Boxing Day.”
Guilt twinges in your chest. “Are your parents not together?”
“Oh no, they split up a long time ago,” he says, like it should have been obvious.
“I’m sorry.”
He turns to face you, staring intensely. “Why would you be sorry?” 
“Because I didn’t realise.”
He smiles. You think it’s because he knows you’re nervous. “I’ve been splitting Christmases between my parents every year since I was twelve, I’m well used to it now.”
The topic doesn’t seem to phase him. He takes another crisp from the packet and looks into the fire as he crunches it between his teeth.
The low light reminds you of the nights you’ve sat opposite him in the King’s Arms in Oxford, all the times you’ve been tipsy off wine spritzers and found yourself trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring at him. He’s handsome, especially up close when you can see the details of his face, his lips, his surprisingly pretty eyelashes, the little cleft on the tip of his nose.
When his eyes turn towards you, you think your heart might leap out of your chest.
You take a quick breath, eyes darting around the room, at the fire, the pile of logs beside the stove, the sprinkling of ashes on the floor, but it seems inevitable that you’ll find your way back to him.
“Why did they split up?”
Michael raises his eyebrows but keeps his face solemn. “She left him for someone else.”
“Oh,” is all you can think of to say. 
“It happens,” he says. “People always want to find something better. My dad was never the most exciting guy to be around.”
“But what about you?”
He huffs a laugh to himself. “I’m not exactly enticing company either.”
You can’t tell if you just want the conversation to end or if you should say something else.
“It’s not something I can fix,” Michael says. One of his hands rests on his thigh and he slowly flexes it so the tendons shift beneath his skin. “And it’s not something that needs to be fixed. People come in and out of your life, but you move on. That’s just the way it is.”
He’s almost hunched over himself, with his chin tilted down and his glasses sliding down towards the end of his nose. 
You’d seen him in the pub once, back in first year, with that friend of his, Oliver Quick. Oliver had gone up to the bar and ended up sitting with Felix Catton and his band of admirers. You’d watched Michael leave the pub and remember your heart shattering for him, for this boy you didn’t even know.
Now, stuck in this cabin, snow swirling past the windows, the sound of the fire crackling a few feet in front of you, and Michael’s side pressed against yours, your heart shatters all over again.
You place your hand over his, and he instantly stops moving. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”
Michael tries not to smile. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he says.
You curl your fingers over his hand and tighten your grip. His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself frowning, because he doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t see himself the same way you see him. 
“I mean it. You’re funny, even when you don’t even mean to be, and honest, and straightforward…”
You glance down at his lips, slightly parted as he listens to you. It crosses your mind to lean in closer, but something stops you.
“I really love that we’re friends,” you say.
Michael looks down at your hands. His lips are pressed together.
He doesn’t want this, you think. He doesn’t want me.
So you pull away, with a little smile to keep it friendly.
He blinks a few times as he looks back at your face. “Thanks,” he says, softly. 
He stands, and you don’t think you can bear to look at him as he moves towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
You turn your attention to the fire, add another log for good measure and poke at the glowing embers in its heart.
You hear movement behind you, footsteps and fabric.
When you look back you see Michael has his arms full with pillows and blankets. He layers some of the blankets on the rug, and soon he has two makeshift beds, one on the sofa and one on the floor.
“What’s this?” You ask.
“We’ll freeze in the bedrooms without the heating, we might as well make use of the fire.”
It’s a good call, and now that you have somewhere to sleep you start to realise how tired you are. 
You rummage through your suitcase and pull out a pair of pyjamas you got for Christmas. Michael changes in one of the bedrooms and comes back in one of his maths pun t-shirts and a pair of red and black bottoms. 
You go to lie in the bed on the floor but Michael puts his hand on your shoulder and insists you sleep on the sofa.
Even with the heat of the fire on your face and the blanket pulled up to your chin, you can’t stop shaking. Your limbs are frozen and your skin is tight, but it feels deeper set than that. You feel the cold in your chest like a fever.
It feels like hours have passed and you still can’t sleep.
“I can hear your teeth chattering,” Michael’s voice grumbles below you. You peer down over the edge of the sofa. He’s turned away from you, towards the fire. You hadn’t even realised he was still awake.
“It’s fucking cold,” you say, wincing at the quiver in your voice.
Michael shifts to his other side so he’s facing you. You’ve never really seen him without his glasses, and he looks completely different, somehow softer, not as harsh.
“We’ll be warmer if we, if we share,” he says quietly.
His suggestion weighs heavy in the space between you, unless it’s just in your head. You can already imagine yourself pressed against him, feeling the warmth from his body and letting it sink into yours.
You don’t trust yourself not to try something stupid either.
You take the blanket with you. The floorboards are piercing against your bare soles so you step on the balls of your feet, quickly slotting yourself by Michael’s side, on the layers of blankets. 
He’s facing you now, your noses must only be inches apart and you feel his breath running over your cheek.
You try to steady your own breathing, but it only makes your heart beat faster.
You see his neck move as he swallows. “Come here,” he mutters, and brings his arm around you, pressing his palm to your back to pull you closer into his chest.
You let your arm drape over his side and your legs intertwine with his. You need the heat, tucking your head in under his chin and resting the side of your face against him.
You move with the rise and fall of his chest, breathe in the scent of him with every breath, hear his heartbeat against your ear.
If you shifted your head slightly, your lips would meet the base of his throat.
Want tightens and lingers in your stomach, but curled up under Michael’s arm, you let its dull ache soothe you to sleep.
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You wake slowly, opening your eyes to cold sunlight glaring through the windows. In your haste to get warm last night, you had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains. All you see on the other side is white, the snow now settled and piled high.
The fire has long since died and the air is colder than it was when you fell asleep, sharp as you take a breath through your nose.
It’s still warm where your cheek meets Michael’s chest, where his hand rests against your back and your bodies are pressed together.
It feels good to be so close to him. He’s still asleep, as far as you can tell. You hear the heavy sound of his breathing, air fluttering in his throat and passing through his pouted lips.
As you start to become more aware, more awake, a warm wanting stirs in your gut and between your legs.
It’s a stupid little crush, one you’ve not been able to distract yourself from these last few months.
You start to trace your fingertips over his chest, feeling where his chest is hard, then soft, and remember everything you said to him the night before, and what you perhaps should have said.
You nuzzle your face in closer to him, to the clean scent of his t-shirt and something else that is so uniquely him.
You try to stay like this for as long as possible, even if it’s torture not to want more.
“You’re moving a lot,” he mutters. You feel his voice rumbling in his chest and humming against your head like it’s a part of you.
Only when you freeze do you realise you’ve been rocking your hips, every hint of friction you get against the fabric of your pyjamas only fueling your hunger. But you’ve stopped now, resting your palm against his stomach.
“I’m cold,” you say.
“Hmm,” he says, resting his lips and his chin against your head, over your hair, “I don’t feel cold.”
The low rasp of his voice only makes you want him more.
The lingering haze of sleep must be clouding your judgement, your sense.
You tilt your head up, brushing your lips over his throat like you’d imagined. You feel him shudder, and feel his stomach tighten under your touch.
He utters your name in a breathless whisper as he paws at your back and pushes his hips into yours. His arousal is evident, hard and pressing to your centre through two layers of fabric.
And then he pauses, and his hand slips away.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says.
You drag your hand down a little further, to slip under his t-shirt and feel the ridges of his surprisingly toned stomach, just above the waistband of his bottoms. “Why are you sorry, Michael?”
“I don’t know, I just…” he huffs in frustration as his hand returns to your body, gripping at your waist through your shirt.
You start to snag your fingers on the waistband, and realise he’s forgone wearing any boxers to bed. “Do you want me to help you?” You whisper, unable to hold back a grin.
“Yes, fuck, please,”
A whine sounds in his throat as you shift his bottoms down just enough to free his cock, and close your hand around it. He’s bigger than you expected, long and thick, heavy, hard and soft-skinned as you stroke, up, down, up, down.
You enjoy the feel of him, run your thumb over his weeping tip as he starts to pant and try to hold back his moans, leaning against you and ghosting his lips against your temple.
You only feel yourself becoming more and more desperate. You hook your leg over his, grinding your core against his thigh. Sparse sparks of pleasure course through your body, not enough for a release, but it still feels good.
You tilt your head again, eagerly pressing your lips to his. He seems taken by surprise at first, but meets you with clumsy enthusiasm. He kisses you like it might save him from something. Once or twice he seems to lose track, dragging his lips to the corner of your mouth only to pull you back into him.
The movements become more and more frantic, your hand pumping Michael’s cock, his hips bucking under your touch.
“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”
You rock particularly hard against his thigh, and he brings his hand to your rear, squeezing at your flesh and urging you on.
You tease your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling at the wanton noise he makes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
“Are you gonna cum for me Michael?” You whisper as you up the pace.
“Please,” he grunts, “please…” and suddenly he’s moaning against your skin, holding you tightly as you feel his cock pulse in your hand as he spills over your fingers and knuckles.
You quickly move your head back so you can look at him, eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack and tongue just peeking out from behind his teeth.
“You’re so pretty,” you say quietly.
He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you with a dazed smile. “You think I’m pretty?”
“So fucking pretty,” you say, with another drag against his thigh.
He hums, low and cryptic in his chest. “Do you need some help there?”
Before you can answer he’s slipped his hand underneath your pyjamas. He cups your bare, wet cunt, lightly circling over your clit with the tip of his finger.
“Fuck you’re soaked,” he mutters, all but teasing your lips as he leans in to kiss you. “Got yourself all worked up, hmm?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, “fuck, don’t tease me, please…”
“Now, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses more firmly against you, hastening his movements so your breath catches in your throat. “We might still have a few hours before anyone comes to get us, and I can think of more than a few ways to pass the time.”
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General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny
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whltlock · 2 years
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touching grass isn’t enough i need to lie in fresh snowfall
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unhonestlymirror · 2 months
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Portrait of Yelizaveta Skoropadśka, daughter of the last Ukrainian hetman, Pavlo Skoropadśkyi, which was considered lost (1922, author - Olga Mordvinova). As it turned out, all this time, the painting was kept in the house of the inhabitants of a small town in the Bavarian Alps, the ski resort of Oberstdorf.
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snowflowsblog · 1 year
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Evolution of Ski-Lifts
Modern day skiers and winter sport enthusiasts demand comfort and advanced gear / technology. Up until the early 1900s, skiers didn’t even have anything to carry them uphill. ‍ The ski lifts and ropeways were built in the early 1900s, but they were mostly the drag lifts or surface lifts. The aerial lifts were built many years later. The first ski lift was built in 1908 by Robert Winterhalder in Germany.
Bolgen lifts were the first to successfully transport people using ski lifts with bars to cling. They first designed J-bars that transported 1 person, and then replaced it with T-bars which carried 2 people.
The Rope Tow is known to be the first ski-lift and it was built in 1934 by Robert Royce in Vermont. It is a rope with a motor that can take you uphill when you hold it. Holding tight the rope with the hands till reaching the destination doesn’t seem to be very comfortable. Then came the Magic Carpets Ski-lifts. It is basically a kind of conveyor belt that takes you uphill and is used mainly for small or beginner slopes. There were also covered magic carpets that safeguard you during cold windy weather.
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Even though there are many advanced ski lifts systems, T-Bars are the most commonly used ski lifts for exploring the alps. Unlike Aerial lifts, the skiers can get down from the T-Bar ski lifts even before reaching the hilltop/destination as per their wish. Apart from that, it is one of the most economical solution for beginners who wanted to practice on small slopes.
Boardie offers most ergonomic, comfortable and cost-effective T-Bar Ski lifts. 
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kwanisms · 5 months
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Stranded for the Holidays Collab
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➮ a stray kids & ateez writer collaboration
The holidays are typically about family, friends, and gatherings but sometimes it also means inclimate weather and forces beyond our control running amok and ruining what's meant to be a joyous time. So here are 16 stories about being stranded during the holidays brought to you by 9 amazing writers; @anyamaris , @millennial-fangirl , @twisted-tales-of-all , @yoonguurt , @kpop-stories-21 , @staytinyville , @skyechild , @stardragongalaxy , & myself.
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index
❅ Swiss Holiday by Booki
➮ best friend's brother!Yunho × f!Reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 21.4k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: All throughout her formative years, Y/N has always harbored a bit of a crush on her best friend’s brother, Yunho. Having not seen him for years, she doesn’t expect those feelings to come back when she joins the Jeong’s on a family trip to a cabin in the Alps for the holiday. When she meets Yunho and his girlfriend, she’s hopeful that she can finally move on.
❅ Read Now
❅ Purrfect Company by Anya
➮ cafe owner!Minho × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.7k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Working at a cat cafe has its perks, but your sarcastic boss Minho is definitely not one of them. Despite it being the holidays, you have no one to spend it with so you’ve volunteered to take the shift at the cafe on Christmas eve. A power outage and a surprise visit from your seemingly rigid boss has you discovering things you’d never have known otherwise. Maybe Minho has a softer side than you’d realized.
❅ Read Now
❅ Room 25: a Christmas Love Story by Liz
➮ idol!Changbin × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Changbin is enjoying his Christmas break from Stray Kids and life. He checks into a ski resort. He runs to an old hometown friend. Who is working at the resort. One can surmise it turns into a Christmas romance.
❅ Read Now
❅ Bittersweet Holiday by Sar
➮ Hongjoong × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Christmas has always been yours and Hongjoong's favorite holiday. After all, it was on Devember 24th four years ago that the two of you became husband and wife. But this year is different; not only will it be the last one you celebrate with Hongjoong, it will be the last one you celebrate period. And you can't think of a better place to be when things happen than snowed in with your husband at your family's mountain cabin.
❅ Read Now
❅ Just as the Kids Predicted by Jay
➮ Jeongin × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When the new student mentor catches first-grade teacher Mr. Yang's eyes, he tries to keep his crush to a minimum. However, then they get too drunk at the annual holiday party and confess their feels for him as he drives them home, he begins making moves, and a snowstorm during a staff-only workday helps them move things along even faster.
❅ Read Now
❅ This Isn't Grey's Anatomy by Kay
➮ Seungmin × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Working the night shift at the hospital has always been easy for Y/N because most often than not, everyone eas asleep and there wasn't much she needed to do. However, when she gets Seungmin as a patient because he has bronchitis, her chill nights were anything but chill. With the heating system working slowly, there was only so much blankets could do to heat up the body.
❅ Read Now
❅ Crafting Christmas by Sky
➮ single dad!San × f!Reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.2k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a failed relationship and an ailing mother forces Y/N to move back to her hometown, despite not wanting to. She knows in her heart that everything will be the same as the day she left. Nothing ever changes in a small town... except when it does. A new neighbor, a new hardware store, and two new additions to two will bring the holiday magic into Y/N's life. The question is, will the magic stay or will the Ghost of Christmas Past ruin everything?
❅ Read Now
❅ Home for the Holidays by Mio
➮ Seonghwa × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.7
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Seonghwa comes gome early the day before Christmas Eve to surprise you, and with the roads being closed to all the snow you were not expecting anyone at your door at 9pm.
❅ Read Now
❅ Naughty or Nice: a Complicated Christmas Story by Liz
➮ Mingi × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Mingi and you broke off a week before Christmas and was due to get the rest of his stuff on Christmas Eve. Was he being cruel in picking it up on that day, both his and your favorite holiday. Or was he trying to get back together? Either way, you would get your answer since you're now snowed in.
❅ Read Now
❅ Snow Stars by Haru
➮ Wooyoung × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: On vacation for the holidays, a break from all the busy times have left you feeling under the weather. What better way to warm you up and get better than the brightest star in your heart?
❅ Read Now
❅ A Boyfriend for Christmas by Sar
➮ Jisung × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Telling your parents you had a boyfriend always kept them off your back about settling down. Now that they're coming up for Christmas, your lie is about to be exposed and you begin to panic. Luckily, Fate takes pity on you and has you running into a cute barista who captures your heart immediately.
❅ Read Now
❅ Frauds and Festivities by Jay
➮ Jongho × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.3k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and your boyfriend have been drifting away for the past couple of weeks. It's god-awful timing though, as the planned holiday trip with your friends creeps around the corner. After deciding to stick it out through the holidays, you manage to get on each other's nerves more than ever before, but you must keep up the act.
❅ Read Now
❅ Less Than Perfect by Anya
➮ boyfriend!Yeosang × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.5k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your boyfriend Yeosang has planned the most amazing vacation for the two of you over the Christmas holiday. While the journey starts out fine, you both find yourselves in a small town with car troubles and no mechanic to fix it because of the holiday.  What should have been a perfectly planned vacation turns into everything going wrong, or so your boyfriend thinks.  It could just be that perfect isn’t what you’re looking for.
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❅ the Most Wonderful Time of the Year by Sky
➮ Chris × f!Reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.6k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Christmas this, Christmas that. The "most wonderful time of the year" is not how Y/N would describe it. Sure, it used to be a magical time full of happiness and love, but she let that belief go years ago. Christmas is all about how much money you spend on someone and making yourself look good to outsiders. Snow is wet and everything is cold during this time of year; makes everything gross. Her best friend is tired of have the Grinch as a roommate, especially when he remembers what it was like when she loved Christmas. This year he finally decides that it's time to bring the magic back into her life. And maybe that magic will bring a little love with it.
❅ Read Now
❅ Ghost of the Past by Booki
➮ ex!Hyunjin × f!Reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20.1k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/N never expected to run into her ex again, especially not at a holiday party of all places. Nor did she expect for him to offer to drive her home when her ride bails on her. She definitely did not expect Hyunjin’s car to get stuck in the snow and for them to have to spend the night at an elderly couple’s house where they, unsurprisingly, have to share a room and even more unsurprisingly, there’s only one bed.
❅ Read Now
❅ Holiday Warmth by Haru
➮ Felix × reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after bring snowed in from the winter storm and your friends in neighboring cabins, what better way to pass the time as the countdown to Christmas is near.
❅ Read Now
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spooky-pomegranate · 2 months
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This pic got me thinking about Captain Price on an undercover mission at an expensive ski resort in the Alps.
He’s dressing the part in luxury clothes and wearing high end cologne that makes him smell like old money. He skis of course. You would never catch him dead on a board. He complains that snowboarders “wipe all the snow off the bloody mountain.” It’s funny the way they bother him so. It’s like he has a personal vendetta against them. It only fuels his fire when you both see the target bombing down the mountain with little regard for others on a brightly colored snowboard. “Fucking stupid muppet,” he utters under his breath as you two ski after them, trying your best to avoid innocent bystanders.
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