#magic mike au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiffanytoms · 1 year

Note

Helloooooo, I know you’ve been having a break (deservedly so😌) however….. I went to a magic Mike show in London today and all I could think about was “imagine James and Lily in this situation” I mean I’m no writer so I don’t know how the story line would go, obviously James dancing on stage and then lily in the audience, maybe Sirius tries to set them up after the show because he sees how much James fancies her? And we all know Sirius would love to show himself off so he could of course be on stage too😍😂 so my question is, would you ever consider writing maybe a one shot based around this? Or know anyone who would be willing? As I can no longer get this out of my head and will be thinking about this for dayyysssss😂😂

Girl, your request possessed me today 🤪 Next time save me a seat!

I give you...

🕺🏻 Magic James ✨

Fic below the cut!

James

“Pads, I’m going to fucking murder you—“

“How is this my fault?”

“Because all of this was your bloody idea!” James Potter cried out to his best friend while covered in baby oil and wearing ridiculously tight football shorts. James loved playing football, and he was good at it too, so he would know that wearing these shorts would actually not make any sense at all in the real world. How were you supposed to properly tackle if you were afraid you’d tear your kit and accidentally show everyone your skivvies in the process?

But that was neither here nor there. Because these were exactly the kind of football shorts you wore if you were a stripper at Magic Mike in London — because that was exactly the point. The more skivvies you showed off — or better yet, bare arsecheeks — the more popular you were.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when you voluntarily signed up with me and made a shit ton of cash every weekend for the past—”

“I just wanted to be supportive!” James rebutted, his voice going up an octave. Okay, so that wasn’t the whole truth (he’d always been a bit of a showoff and he knew he had the body to match), but it was at least partially true. Ever since Sirius’ terrible parents had cut him off financially, Sirius had needed to find inventive ways to make money so he could stay in university with James. James had offered to just pay his tuition for him, but Sirius had been much too proud to accept that. So James did the second best thing — he went to his jobs with him.

So that was the story of how James Potter found himself stripping on a Saturday night, some 30 or so odd kilometers from campus, presently losing his goddamn mind. You see, while James had a ton of fun dancing for cash while making ladies of all ages incredibly giddy — he still sort of wanted to keep his naughty little hobby a secret. So imagine his horror when he spotted his crush, the gorgeous redhead from his organic chemistry class that he hadn’t been able to shut up to his friends about for weeks, sitting front row in the middle of a bachelorette party. (Not hers at least — thank fuck.)

“Tcha. Sure,” Sirius teased, adjusting the silly, leather, fingerless gloves he was sporting. While James had been branded the jock of the performers, Sirius’ ensemble had more of a ‘bad boy’ vibe. James had doubled over laughing for a solid five minutes the first time he’d seen him backstage in it. “Look, maybe she won’t even recognize you—” It was the wrong thing to say to poor, frazzled James, because the only thing worse than Lily recognizing him would be if she didn’t even care enough about him to remember his existence and didn’t. Sirius, best mate that he was, realized his mistake and pivoted. “Okay. Remember that thing you’re always telling me about how you get in the zone when you play football and nothing else matters?”

“Yeah?” James asked confused, really not seeing the correlation here. It wasn’t like he could just dribble around Evans and score.

“So… just do that. Don’t overthink it, just do what you do best: perform, fuck your opponents up, show no mercy, and dominate.”

James felt like his brain had just melted hearing all his usual sports tricks being used in reference to… her. “You want me to dominate Evans?”

“No, not like that!” Sirius’ expression changed from exasperated to contemplative. “I mean, maybe. If you think she’d be into that—”

“Okay, worst pep talk ever—”

“Prongs, mate,” Sirius said, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Stop stressing. You love this gig; I know you do. And you said it yourself that you don’t know how to break the ice with this girl, right? Well, guess what?” James groaned at the inevitable conclusion to this thought process. “This will be the best icebreaker ever.” Sirius gave James a good ol’ spank on the bum. “Have fun, go wild.” He winked. “Give her a show she won’t forget.”

Fuck my life.

Lily

“Is that… Sirius Black?” Lily’s friend and roommate Mary asked, far too excitedly, by her side after a boy their age walked on stage. The corny, overdramatic announcer had just proclaimed that it was actually, ‘PAAAAAAADDDDFOOOOOOTTTT!’ but everyone knew that was just a silly stage name.

“I doubt our classmates have secret side gigs as strippers, Mare,” Lily sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Truth be told, she really hadn’t wanted to come here. These kinds of shows just weren’t her thing, but Frank was her best friend, and Alice was the love of his life — so she was trying to put in the effort by attending her bachelorette party.

Mary had also given her a pep talk after Lily had lamented how degrading this was to the men, saying, ‘Lils. Are you serious? These guys love their jobs. They get paid to have women ogle their physiques and go crazy over them. Even the gay ones get a massive ego boost and get paid to dance and then check out their boyfriends when they perform. It’s really not that deep. Leave your gender studies minor at school and have fucking fun! I promise you, none of them had a gun pointed to their heads when they took this job. Stop being so judgy and let the men do what they wanna do!’ Truthfully, that had put Lily in her place. Just because she wouldn’t be caught dead stripping, didn’t mean that other people felt the same way and couldn’t find it liberating.

“No, that’s definitely him. I’d recognize that bum anywhere,” Mary responded, eyes still glued to the stage.

“Oh my god, I think it is him,” Lily agreed, hiding her giggle behind her hand. Black was a bit of an enigma across campus, being one of the best looking students there, but always seeming too brooding and untouchable to approach. One of the only things that softened and humanized him was his best friend, Potter. With bright eyes, an easy laugh, and a presence that could light up even her most dreary of least favorite classes, Potter was hard to miss. So if Potter, an endless ray of sunshine, found Black to be a good best mate, Lily found that it spoke volumes of his character.

The crowd started going wild as Black, definitely the hottest dancer they’d had yet, started walking around the stage, clearly feeling at home in tight jeans and a vest. Was the look a lot? Yes. Was it simultaneously hot and showing off every inch of his gorgeous body? Also fucking yes.

Lily giggled as she felt herself loosening up, slowly becoming just as invested in this sexy little game of make-believe as all of her friends. She knew Black. He was one of the most stubborn men she’d ever met. No one would ever tell him what to do… so if he was here… He wanted to be here.

When he passed by her and practically twerked his ass in her face, she laughed her own ass off and put a five pound note in his g-string.

“There we go, Lils!” Mary cheered next to her, already having slapped his butt twice like she was playing the bongo drums. Lily guessed it was the reason Sirius seemed to be spending so much time on their side of the stage.

“I’m going to get another drink! Want one?” Lily yelled over the screams as she excused herself, needing a small breather from all the action. Mary was far too enthralled by the show to pay her any mind.

As much as Sirius was a great dancer, Lily was a bit embarrassed about where seeing him on stage was making her mind wander. Because, if she was being honest, she didn’t want to see Sirius up there, she wanted to see her goofy, ridiculous (-ly fit) lab partner strutting his stuff. For the first few weeks of class, she’d found him too cocky and a bit annoying, but the more she hung out with him, the more she realized all that arrogance was a mask for how adorably frazzled he got around her. It was a completely insane scenario, because he looked like a hero straight out of a Greek myth, but whatever. She’d often find him staring at her during lectures (and then kick himself) and making up the most ludicrous reasons to talk to her. She knew he was smart, but he’d still ask her for help with lab work. Of course she’d help him, but both of them knew it was all a secret rouse to hang out. Lily just hoped he would eventually work up the nerve to ask her out soon.

(And in the meantime, she was going to the university football games just to catch a glimpse of him playing. He was good. Like really good. He also seemed to go into some sort of fugue state when he played, completely in the zone, so Lily never even had to worry that he’d spot her in his crowd of admirers.)

Basically, Lily was a chicken. And she knew it.

Alas, that’s a problem to sort through another time, she thought as she returned to her seat, exorbitantly expensive drink in tow.

She’d just sat back down next to Mary, who was fanning herself off, when the announcer’s voice blared through the speakers once more: “And next, we have the incredible, looking damn edible, PRRRROOOOOONGGGGSSSSS!”

The next few seconds passed in a weird sort of blur as a few things happened in rapid succession. Firstly, the fittest crush she’d ever had walked out on stage to Sam Smith’s “Unholy” wearing a generic football uniform with a ball tucked under his arm causing Lily to think that perhaps she’d fallen on the steps and hit her head — now dreaming about what she actually wanted to see. Secondly, Mary turned to her and exclaimed, “No fucking way!” the most pleased grin ever plastered on her face. Mary had spent far too many drunken nights hearing Lily lamenting over her crush of the nerdy footballer, so as far as she was concerned, the sooner the two gave in to their obvious attraction to each other and actually went out, the better. Thirdly… damn, Potter was really good at doing little football party tricks. Never letting the ball touch the ground, he’d bounced it on what seemed like every one of his delectable body parts, all while ripping off his shirt.

Oh. My. God.

Who the fuck did he think he was? Lily swore time stood still as the thin — obviously pre-torn, but who the hell cared — fabric of his top gave way to reveal his glistening (why is it glistening?!) chest in the dazzling lights of the stage as he kept, miraculously, bouncing that damn ball. Honestly, Lily didn’t know what to be more impressed with: his fucking toned as hell body, or his obvious skill that came from years and years of loving the sport. It was hot that he’d committed so much time and effort into something. Lily really wanted to be the next thing he committed effort into — his next fucking obsession.

She also really wanted him to get off the stage so she could ogle him all by herself, preferably in the comfort and privacy of her own flat. Now. Please and thank you.

“Put your panties back on…” Mary drawled at her side, completely over the moon to have caught Lily in such a horny state.

“Shut up,” Lily shot back, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. She still wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t dreaming. Her throat had gone dry as all of her body’s moisture had somehow all drained… elsewhere. Get it the fuck together, Evans. He’s a human. Show him a little respect.

But looking at his body as he did a bicycle kick to rid himself of his prop ball and then somehow jumped forward onto his feet when he’d just been laying flat on his back… maybe she wanted to retract that statement. This man was many things… but a damsel in distress in need of her honorable gaze in order to protect his virtue was not one of them. This man was hot as fuck — he knew it… and he wanted her to relish it.

And who was Lily to not play along with that?

His eyes landed on her a second later, and Lily swore that she felt her heart as it skipped a beat. His almost shy smile to his trainers as he threw himself into a daring front flip and landed into some sort of unnatural humping position, held up entirely by his upper half, only amplified all of her stomach’s butterflies.

“Are you fucking… Lily. Lily fucking Evans…” Mary hissed beside her. “Look at him. LOOK AT HIM! If you don’t shag this man in the next five minutes, I swear to—“

Mary didn’t get to finish her sentence, because in the next moment, right after James had finished making Lily desperately pray to the heavens above that she could be reincarnated into a very specific section of laminate, the DJ had switched the song. The whole vibe of the club changed as a very sultry beat came on, Ashlee’s “Alone With You,” and James walked right to the very edge of the stage, and offered her his open palm.

Her. Offered her. Lily looked at his hand like it was a ticking time bomb.

“Go!” Mary roared as she shoved Lily forward into James’ awaiting grasp.

Lily allowed James to pull her onto the stage, eyes wide and heart thudding madly. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he responded in kind.

Sure, she’d been around him plenty of times before, but chest to (oily, glistening, fucking naked) chest seemed very different. He still had the same eyes off course, promising mischief — but now it was impossible not to know exactly what sort of mischief he was foretelling with those golden specks, glowing in a sea of hazel warmth. His smirk that she’d interpreted as perfectly wholesome before was downright filthy now, and his hair that had looked so windswept in the past currently mocked her former innocence with how obviously it screamed sex. She wanted to run her hands through it, she wanted to pull it, she wanted to absolutely destroy it as she rode him, forcing him to look up into her eyes as she came around him.

Who the fuck was she and what did this magical place do to her?

“You okay with this?” he asked her as he walked backwards, leading her to the center of the stage, clearly about to incorporate her body into his routine if she’d let him.

She couldn’t wait. “Do your worst,” she answered, deciding, fuck it, she was all in.

James’ face contorted between shock, glee, and unmitigated lust all in the span of two seconds. “You sure?” he whispered, body lithe and bare and hers. So hers right here in front of her. He had this errant, dark lock on his forehead, all but challenging Lily to sink her fingers into his hair and muss everything up even further. Why are you so obsessed with his hair right now?

“Yes. You can do whatever you want to me, Potter.” Lily wasn’t sure where it came from, but she was sure she’d never meant a sentence more.

James smirked, coming completely into his element as he swung Lily around by her hand and caught her spin right in front of chest. “Just keep your body limber, okay?” he hushed into her ear as she was pressed up against him.

Before she even had time to ponder his request, Lily felt James’ large hands — the same ones she’d only briefly touched before as he’d passed her notes and pencils in class — close in around her waist before hoisting her up in the air. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she supposed that was the point, because a moment later he had her pinned up against a prop wall. There wasn’t an encouraging yell louder than Mary’s in the crowd… and an unknown man’s whooping from backstage.

James did a tantalizing body roll into her, making Lily gasp as she felt his hips lighting up every inch of her core. When she’d put on leggings earlier in the night, she’d been thinking about her comfort during an uncomfortable night out on the town — not donning the perfect clothing to feel her crush’s pelvis as it crashed rhythmically into her own in front of an entire audience.

“All right, Evans?” James asked as he pushed his hips into her further, making her eyelids flutter closed and keeping her steady against the wall so he could grab her left wrist, and then her right, pinning both of them next to her head. Lily didn’t know she needed this rough manhandling in her life until she was literally experiencing it. He was tossing her around like she was a rag doll and she was loving it. His breathing was coming in hot and heavy on the side of her throat, and she had to wonder if it was club protocol for dancers to actually start kissing their marks. Sure, it was only the soft, gentle start of a neck hickey, but the sensation still had her squirming against him, trying to fight herself from moaning his name as his clutch around her wrists tightened. He had to be getting off on this move too. He had to be.

The lyrics of the song talked about not letting him stop right there, and Lily vehemently agreed. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. She couldn’t wait to see what she could push him to do next. “Is that all you got?”

He smirked at her goading, pulling back before sliding her upwards against the wall so he could sneak his shoulders underneath her thighs, pulling her knees behind him as he propped the apex of her legs right in front of her face. Her hands instinctually dug into his unruly locks — in order to steady herself on this precarious perch, or because this move was clearly meant to simulate oral sex and that’s exactly where her hands would find themselves if he’d been doing this for real, she wasn’t at liberty to say. All she knew was that a few seconds later, she felt one strong hand gripping her thigh, keeping her safely in place above him, and another on the small of her back for balance as he spun them from the wall, bringing them back to centerstage. Damn, he’s strong… And fuck did she want to actually be feeling this. As hot as the tease was, as warm as his breath was soaking right through the thin cotton fabric of her leggings, she wanted more, she needed more. She could so easily imagine him tearing her clothes off, ridding her of these pesky barriers, and plunging his tongue deep into where she really wanted it.

How was he making her feel this way? How was he getting her all hot and bothered like this in public?

Her consciousness broke through her lecherous thoughts as she realized just how blinding the stage lights were. It was very different to be staring at James — whose aura could completely drown out the screams of horny ecstasy roaring all around them — than at a white wash alerting her that she was currently a main character in this spectacle happening on a stage being illuminated from above.

As if sensing her concern, James shrugged her off of his shoulders immediately, catching her around his chest before lowering both of them to the floor. For a second, it was just them again, Lily’s mind traveling to some far off scenario where she’d actually had the nerve to ask James out on a date, it had gone well, and they were celebrating together in her bed. She bit her lower lip as she looked down. He was holding his upper body weight off of her making his biceps bulge, caging them in together, but his hips were back to resting against hers as if he truly couldn’t resist her. She had to wonder if the growing hardness she felt there was all a part of the act, or if it was actually just him.

Her eyebrow raised as she caught his gaze, a smirk forming on her lips. “You all right, Potter?” Staying still, just staring at each other, had to be bad for business. She had a growing suspicion that neither one of them cared.

He looked almost sheepish. “Shut it, Evans.”

In a mortifying moment, Lily realized he’d seen just how envious she’d been of the floor earlier when he started repeating the same damn humping motion, holding himself up above her as he used his ab muscles to lower his hips and legs down over her body in a snaking motion again, and again. The coordination it took… the core strength… the way it’s rubbing his clearly hard cock against me over and over.

Lily Evans was a fucking goner for this man. Just as she was admiring one of his football injuries on his collarbone, wondering if she’d get kicked out of the club for kissing it (what could she say? Mary’s yells from the sidelines were making her feel awfully brazen), James fully dropped his body weight on top of her and rolled them over so Lily was straddling his lap. One of his hands found purchase on her hip, encouraging her to grind on him.

“Ride me, Evans,“ he cooed as he found his footing beneath him, bucking his pelvis up and down in waves.

He was so fucking hot. Lily’s hands started on his abs, his unnaturally well defined abs, as his first action had taken her by surprise and she’d needed to stabilize herself (okay, fine, and she really wanted to touch those perfect, perfect abs), but she found herself wanting more intimacy the longer he kept rocking her on top of himself. Even though his free hand was pushing one of hers up his chest, urging her to feel every cut ridge and ripple of his oiled up body, she had her own ideas of what she wanted. Grabbing the hand on her hips, she peeled his fingers off of her and trailed them up her waist, grazing the side of her breast, before she interlocked her fingers with him between their bodies. Their eyes locked, understanding dawning on his face, as he switched up the positioning of their other hands and did the same, squeezing her palms into his own. Something changed in his eyes then, she guessed in both of theirs, as if he too was suddenly living the exact same scenario as she was where this could be real, she could be saucily rolling her body on top of him for real — if only they had the balls to do something about it.

“Go out with me, Potter,” she panted. She didn’t know if it was her actual feelings, or the booze, or the nerves, or her fucking riled up hormones (so ready to fuck the shit out of this boy), but whatever it was, she was so friggin’ glad she’d finally had the guts to just ask.

James’ hips stilled, dropping Lily flat on top of him with an ‘Oof!’

“Are you serious?!” he cried out, oh so fucking happy. He didn’t let her wallow in the terrifying possible connotations of that question for too long, because before she knew it, he’d pulled her the rest of the way down to his level, and kissed her soundly as one of his hands buried in her hair.

“Ehhh… let’s give it up for PRRRROOOONGGGSS!?” the announcer’s voice declared as chaos descended upon the club. About two hundred women had just witnessed one of the sexiest dancers planting a life-altering smooch on an audience member and were now clamoring to be next.

“Oy, shit head! Get off the stage!” Lily broke free from James’ kiss and looked back to see Sirius staring at them incredulously behind the curtain. A moment later, James jumped to his feet and dragged her backstage with him. “What the hell were you—” he stopped himself short and interjected a jovial little, “Hi, Evans,” for her sake.

“Hi, Black,” Lily replied awkwardly, not really knowing where things were supposed to go from here.

“Glad you finally threw this guy a bone. Things were getting pretty desperate,” Sirius said casually before turning back to James. “You’re probably fired, you know that?”

“Yeah…” James replied, cutely running a hand through his hair. Lily noticed his other hand remained firmly interlocked with hers. “I don’t really care though?”

Sirius rolled his eyes before walking back to the dressing room to get ready for his next set. “Tosser!” he yelled over his shoulder.

James turned back to Lily, his eyes glowing with possibilities. “So…” he began awkwardly. Cutely. Wonderfully. “You wanna maybe get out of here?”

“Yes.” Lily nodded, fighting off a shit-eating grin herself. “Absolutely.”

✨✨✨

I hope it was everything you hoped for! ♥️

65 notes · View notes

pelorsdyke · 7 months

Text

ronancetober - day twelve: spell [practical magic au, nancy wheeler as sally owens, robin buckley as state investigator gary hallett]

“Did you or your sister kill Jason Carver?” The state investigator asks Nancy, both hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.

It’s stupid, but Nancy can’t help her instinctual deadpan reply. “Oh, yeah,” she says, leaning back against her kitchen counter. Distantly, she can hear Max and Mike taunting each other, the jingle of her aunt’s wind chimes as the pair race in and out of the porch door. “A couple of times.”

The investigator— Robin, she’d said her name was, insistent when Nancy defaulted to Detective Buckley instead— smirks. Nancy traces the line of her lips with her eyes.

“Nancy,” she begins, the word as hard-fought from the respectful detective as Robin’s own name had been from Nancy, “please. Tell me what you saw.”

“Jason Carver was a no-good shithead of a man, a bully and a bastard, and the worst kind of man, which is to say, one who put his hands on my sister. To be honest, Detective,” Nancy replies, pressing in on the word as she says it, watching Robin roll her eyes with barely constrained pleasure, “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass where he is now.”

It’s true, is the thing. When Nancy had first hit him— and she had been the first, the crunch of her car against his bones somehow a relief even as her mind had started racing through the implications of killing a man— a not exactly small part of her had thought about just leaving him where he was. A hit-and-run, maybe chalked up to his mob connections or violent behavior, letting Jason Carver rot in the woods. Better than he deserved, anyway. But Chrissy had insisted, fearful, that they needed to at least move the body, and once the two of them had hustled him in the car, it had seemed a little stupid to just… what? Bury the body in Joyce’s backyard? Hope no one dug the gardenias up too deeply next year? So they’d done something probably far stupider, if she was honest, and paged carefully through books Nancy had sworn off years ago to find a spell neither of them should’ve even considered casting.

And the second time, to be fair, he’d been a breath away from killing Chrissy. So Nancy had done it, in the end, had killed the man twice, the second time by shattering a pot over his head, and if she was honest, she’d kind of enjoyed it. Nancy didn’t intend to become a murderer, but she did revel some in getting to hand-deliver the comeuppance Carver had deserved, after what he’d put her sister through.

And then, yes, sure, they’d buried him in the garden. Fuck off, okay? Where else were they supposed to do it? Maybe one of their cousins had something resembling a better hiding spot for bodies by their mother’s house, but Nancy wasn’t about to start making calls to ask.

Robin mulls over Nancy’s words for a moment, and Nancy takes the time to observe the woman in front of her. Robin was tall but thin, most of her frame hidden away behind the bulk of her thick jacket and flannel, but where the sleeves were rolled up, Nancy caught a peek of muscled forearms. The detective was no desk jockey, certainly. She’d passed on the coffee Nancy had offered her on coming in, citing that it made her inexplicably sleepy, and had smiled fondly at Max and Mike when they’d scampered by, quietly letting on that they reminded her a bit of herself and her older brother. Nancy isn’t really sure why she’s so determined to hold onto every piece of information about Robin, but the woman is just so intriguing to her. There’s something about her presence at Nancy’s kitchen table, steady even as she thrums with energy, that Nancy can’t stop staring at.

It’s the moment when Robin opens her mouth, actually, that it clicks into place for Nancy. She’s saying something about how she’s certainly not about to deny Nancy’s assessment of the situation, not after chasing Carver across the country following a string of murders, but Nancy is only half-listening. Instead, she’s focused in what might be a semi-intimidating way for Robin on the blue of the woman’s eyes, how they flit between shades as the light changes.

—“And they’re going to have… bright blue eyes! Not like me, but like… like the ocean on a summer day.” Nancy remembers saying, Chrissy listening attentively at her side. “And one of those faces like an old Hollywood movie star, and an older brother who was born into parents who adopted them.”

“Is all of this important?” Chrissy had asked, and Nancy had shrewdly raised an eyebrow, breaking her concentration for only a second.

“Chris, it’s about making somebody impossible. I want to make sure I never fall in love,” Nancy had said, resolute and avoiding the sad curve of Chrissy’s lips in response. “Now shut up! I have to finish. And she’s going to hate coffee because it makes her sleepy instead of waking her up, which makes no sense to her or anyone else—“

“She?” Chrissy had piped in again, and Nancy had felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“Maybe,” she’d said, defensive and immediate, and her sister had just laughed and wrapped her in a hug, reminding her that they’d always have each other’s backs, no matter what. It was a promise they’d made with blood before Chrissy had run off, but it had been deep in both girls’ souls since long before that.

Nancy comes back to the moment with Robin with a certainty that grips her all the way to her soul. It’s her, she thinks, eyes locked on the cabinet beside her to avoid staring a hole into Robin’s head. Nancy’s magic impossible woman. And she’s doomed her to die.

#yes Mike is her kid and Chrissy is her sister because this isn’t canon I do what I want!#this is my stupid self indulgent au and I bend the characters to fit the narrative!#I really was excited about this one I hope you like it!#robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance #stranger things #mine #ronancetober #practical magic

60 notes · View notes