The Love Witch of Mississippi (part 2)

Stack x Witch!Reader

Summary: The hairdresser’s daughter has made a name for herself as the Love Witch of Mississippi, selling love potions and spells to clients at the sink bowl. One day, Mary comes in to make sure she can keep Stack. Once the reader finds out it’s the man of dreams, she has to decide whether to give him away, or turn to the dark side of magic.

Warnings: cursing, blood

A/N: hey y'all! here's part 2, one last part. after this is part 3 and then the other fic I got planned. I also gave a light read through, with a 10 month old, it's a bit hard. I'll try to have part 3 up in a few days. I hope y'all enjoy <3

part 1 , if you missed it

Word count: 2164

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Mary shrieked in amusement when she seen [y/n], complimenting her on her outfit and figure. 

“Oh my my, girl! You look amazing! Ugh someone’s for sure gonna snatch you up tonight. Ya body’s banging, girl! Damn!” Mary praised.

[y/n] just raised her head high, thanking her, but keeping the conversation short.

Finally reaching the old saw mill, now dubbed Club Juke, the pair stared from a distance for a mere moment. Inside both of those women, something was changing. Mary; hopping with anticipation and a hint of apprehension and beside her [y/n] a heat rising in her stomach and a dimming in her heart, but nonetheless, excited to see Stack. The pair moved towards the door, off sync to meet the big body guarding the door. 

Cornbread squinted at the young ladies before his face turned up, stiffening with a fatherly sternness.

“Uh, excuse me, ladies.You show you at the right place?” he inquired looking both you and Mary up and down.

You both look at each other with a soft chuckle and looks of disbelief.

“That's a damn little question, Cornbread.” Mary asserted, crossing her arms and smirking confidently.

“Lawd be my witness,” Cornbread started, taking his hat off and looking up at the sky.

“Little Mary? Baby [y/n]?” 

You both nodded in agreement before giggling. An astounded Cornbread stepped aside letting you gals in. On the inside of the juke screamed of a good time. Corn liquor, Italian wine and Irish beer filled the veins of every juke goer, card and domino games intertwined themselves in the night’s escapades and bodies mingled all over the juke floors. It seemed like there wasn't an area that wasn't filled with bodies. The girls separated, Mary started walking around and [y/n] went for a drink.

When she got to the counter, [y/n] wasn't expecting such a familiar face. Annie turned around to ask what she was taking and was taken aback. A sly smile danced upon her face, as she took in your image. 

“Now, you truly a sight for sore eyes.” Annie compliment as she looked you once over again

Bowing your head, you thanked her humbly before you took a seat.

“What’ll ya take?” Annie asked, leaning in as you browsed behind her.

“Um.. what’s good?”

“Everything! We got corn liquor, Irish beer and Italian wine.” Annie listed, showing [y/n] each selection.

[y/n] grimaced at each, seeing as she wasn't a big drinker. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, [y/n] sat down, requesting a corn liquor.

“Might as well, stick to the devil I know, right.” [y/n] piped up.

Earning a laugh from Annie, she turned around to get her a drink when a velvety bass voice piped up behind her, 

“Now, that ain't the woman I left behind. My baby usually down for anythin’” the voice exclaimed.

[y/n]’s whole world stopped as she felt arms snake around her like a seatbelt. Her breath hitched, her heart skipped a beat and she fell right into the arms. She didn't even have to look back to see who it was. Elias “Stack” Moore, in the flesh. Annie turned around slowly, just to gloat about [y/n]’s reaction. A smile snuck on Annie’s face as she tried to hide her laugh. Stack rested his head on [y/n]’s shoulder requesting two Italian wines. Annie rested the glasses down on the counter, muttering a giggly, “enjoy”.

“So, what’s this Love Witch of Mississippi business, huh? Ya making good money?” Stack prodded with that infamous smirk.

[y/n] just couldn't respond. She spun around quickly to get a good look of her man. Completely and utterly under his spell, and he ain’t even know any magic. That smile was enough to brighten even the darkest of hearts. The gold caps on his teeth, the toothpick sticking out from his lips, the fedora and pressed suit, all new, fit him so well. Just as [y/n]’s raking him over, he’s raking her over too. Admiring every little curvature, curl and kink in place. Stack was in complete awe at what seven years blessed you with. Clearing his throat, to catch your attention, you look at again. From eye to mouth to eye and lean back slyly.

“What took you so damn long? And why’d ya leave? I thought I was the marrying type…” you scoffed, whipping back around to grab hold of your drink.

Stack licked his lips as he took your presence in. not only did seven years bestow you with the body of a goddess, but an attitude of one too.

Stack chuckled dryly, before standing at your side rebutting, “I was getting right for you.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you planned to say something clever before you were interrupted.

“Stack, I been looking for you everywhere!” Mary huffed, as she snuck up his side, hooking her arm around Stack’s.

He visibly tightened up in annoyance. He didn't look at her, didn't even acknowledge her, before dismissing himself. Mary was shocked, pain etched across her face as she looked to [y/n] as to say the spell aint working. [y/n] patted her shoulder and told her to wait, it’ll kick in. Mary nodded and headed to the dance floor, presumably to dance away her worries.

Musicians sang and played, they played and sang. But after young Sammie “Preacherboy” Moore took the stage, the night began to fall– heavily. The sweat in the air turned sour, veins pulsated with a quiver of danger and hearts beat heavily. Some white folks came and introduced themselves looking for a “good time”. Sang some song ‘bout pickin a body, it wasnt right, it wasnt natural. Smoke and Stack sent them on they way and the night continued as usual, but something still wasn’t right. [y/n]’s stomach was turning and she aint know how to fix it. Pale in the face, she posted up in a corner, breathing heavily and taking everything in. Stack noticed, rushing to her side.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Stack approached, enveloping [y/n] in his arms.

“Somethin’ don't feel right, Stack. My stomach turnin’.” [y/n] divulged, clenching her stomach.

“Whatcha goin’ on ‘bout, hm girl? It’s that magic shit ain’t it?” 

“The magic ain’t shit, baby. But there’s been a shift in the air, Stack.”

“Them white muhfuckers gave yuh willies? I thought you be a brave little witch.”

“I ain’t playin’, Stack! Some serious shit brewing…”

Stack laughed off [y/n]’s worries, as he pulled her to the dance floor, exclaiming how he needed to dance with his girl before the night ended. It felt like those old rooftop nights; corn liquor spilt over, with Stack and [y/n] falling over each other’s feet while their laughter filled the air. But tonight was different, they had full control and understanding of each other body and little alcohol in their systems, so they enjoyed every minute of it.

“It’s jus’ like old times, Cara Mia. I'm ready this time too. I aint leavin’, aint fixin’ to go nowhere else. My home right here.” Stack professed, with his finger sticking in your chest, right where your heart is.

[y/n]’s eyes began to water. She knew he meant every word he said. [y/n]’s arms found their way around the back of his neck and Stack closed the distance. Stack was just about to lean into to kiss her when Smoke came between them,

“‘Scuse me, buh i need my brother.” Smoke interjected.

Stack excused himself walking away with his brother and [y/n] found something to do in the crowd. [y/n]’s mind got to wandering again, her stomach dropping. Feeling ill, [y/n]’s eyes moved back to the bar section. As her eyes were glazing over to the bar, she seen Stack and Mary, standing close in a low conversation. Just then, [y/n] felt like she had to hurl as Mary began walking out the juke.

Oh no, I gotta fix this, [y/n] thought as she raced to the counter.

Once at the counter, [y/n] leaned in, harshly whispering Annie’s name. Annie raced over, eyes filled with worry,

“What’s the matter, baby?”

“You don't happen to have any agrimony, stinging nettle, or galangal root on hand, would ya?” implore innocently.

Annie’s face straightened sternly after hearing the list, asking what the hell [y/n] had gotten herself into. [y/n] began fumble over her words, trying to form a sentence, but nothing would come. Finally, [y/n] dropped her head and confessed her crime. Annie stood appalled. Annie started to berate [y/n], also informing her that it might be too late. The pit in [y/n]’s stomach dropped even further as she buried her head in her hands. [y/n] started to apologize, but Annie retorted, 

“It ain’t me ya gotta be sorry ta. Now come, we gotta find her and make this right.” 

[y/n]’s shoulders hung low as she slouched behind Annie. With Annie leading [y/n], they swam through the crowd of people, looking for Smoke or Stack. 

Finding the pair tucked in a corner, Annie and [y/n] made their way over.

“Stack, where Mary?” Annie asked with this calm tone of thunder.

Stack just shrugged his shoulder, as he rolled his cig, before responding, 

“Gal made herself useful, went ta ask her kinfolk ‘bout that money they was talm bout.”

They all huffed, but Stack. Annie demanded him to go and retrieve the girl from outside, but Stack just sucked his teeth.

“The fuck we need ‘er fa? She need to gon ‘head.” Stack exclaimed.

Just then, Mary appeared behind them, calling Stack’s name. They all jumped and their spines tingled. Mary asked for his audience in the next room and they left, Stack placing his hand on the small of [y/n]’s back with a wink before leaving. [y/n] gave a small, sad smile as he walked off. She wanted to grab him, pull him back and tell him to stay, tell him she messed up, tell him something wasn't right, but she couldn't. The guilt in her stomach ate away at her pride and devoured her conscious. A nudge at shoulder jolted her back to reality. Annie stood, arms crossed with a loud scowl and, what seemed like a telepathic demand of ‘ya betta go get ‘em’. [y/n] nodded and walked around the juke looking for them. She walked and walked and walked and couldn’t find them. Finally, [y/n] just asked Slim where they went, he pointed to a room in the back corner. 

[y/n] started making her way over, but each step felt so hard and heavy. Her mind started to race and she began to wonder on how she’s approach Mary and the situation. Maybe I can ask Stack to leave? Or maybe I can just drag her out of there into another room. Just sayin it out loud? Nah nah, that's crazy talk. What would Stack think? [y/n]’s mind, heart and soul entered a battle as she approached the door. The ongoing conflict stopped her from opening, hell, knocking on the door. [y/n] felt another nudge at her shoulder and she hopped like she seen a ghost. This time at her side was Smoke.

“Ya gon open the door or what? Yo Stack we comin in!” Smoke announced.

Turning the knob and pushing open the door, the pair met a horrific scene.

Mary straddled on top of Stack, the sound of ripping flesh and bubbling liquid coming from his neck. [y/n] staggered back, breath caught in her throat. Smoke went straight militant, pulling out his guns and shooting at Mary, as she stood up. Bullets riddled her body as she fell to the ground. Annie, Pearline, Sammie and Slim ran to the threshold to see what happened, but after witnessing the scene, they pushed the other party-goers back. Mary rose like the dead, blood staining her dress and face as she laughed. She aint look like herself no more, she look like she belonged to the dead.

“We gon’ kill ev’ry last one of yall!” she cackled as she ran out the room to exit, jumping and screaming.

Slim sent all the party-goers on they way and everyone else piled in around Stack.

“No, no, no, this ain’t ‘posed to happen…” [y/n] cried, cradling Stack’s face.

He coughed, smirking as he reached up to caress your cheek. A little blood smudged on your cheek, he huffed.

“M-m-mama i-it’s okay. I w-wasn’t good n-nough for ya a-anyways.” he joked.

“Stack, don't say that to me! You mean more to me than you know. I love you.” [y/n] confessed.

“I’ll a-always be witcha, baby. D-don’t forget me.” Stack requested wholeheartedly.

[y/n] whined in agony, throwing herself over Stack.

“This all my fault…”