#karmie

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…”

The Love Witch of Mississippi (part 1)

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, self harm

Word count: 2232

A/N: Hey! I literally got to writing as soon as I got the idea, so I hope y'all enjoy! This will act as part one and if y'all truly like it, I'll post part two, which I'm currently working on. Any feedback or suggestions, let a sista know in the comment section. and I did a rough read over and correction so it make sense. Love y'all! - Karmie <3

part 2

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The bustle of Clarksdale’s downtown area was all Josephine’s Hair Shop needed. [y/n] and her mother worked side by side, in their family owned beauty shop, supplying all the women who came through with good looks and good spells. Josephine taught [y/n] all she knew of magic that had been passed down from her mother and her mother’s mother. So much so, that [y/n] decided to make a little money on the side selling spells and potions to the women at the sink bowl, her mother agreed. They’d all come in with stories of love despair;

“Oh I think he jus’ don’ luh me no mo’”

“I’m tired of chasing his ass, I tried!”

“If only he luh’d me the way i luh him…”

“Oh we’d be so goooood together! Can’t you just see it?!”

At first, [y/n] just used to laugh. Starting out in magic wasn’t no easy feat. There were laws and rules in place, so shit just couldn’t be trifled with. Putting together the wrong thing or having the wrong intention when mixing shit could really fuck someone up. Josephine always [y/n] to work with the right intention and all would be fine. After learning the arts and apothecary, [y/n] took up requests. A few mixing of rose, jasmine and cinnamon and adding it to oils, incantations and candle burnings later and the woman were raving about her work. Women came from all over; Mississippi, Louisiana, Georgia and even New York. Day in, day out, women would prance up to Josephine’s Hair Shop, get up to the sink bowl and ask for [y/n].

“Is [y/n] here?” inquired a woman of little stature, wild hair and wandering eyes.

The cashier rolled her eyes and looked back down at her book, hollering [y/n] name. 

[y/n] looked up, smiling. [y/n] was a gorgeous woman; smooth caramel skin, not a blemish in sight. Long, full curly hair that brushed her waist and a figure like a coke bottle. Bright brown eyes that read right into your soul with a cute button nose and full lips. All the women who saw her stared in awe at her beauty, wishing and envious. [y/n] exuded this confident, sexy, intelligent exterior to all those who cross her path, man or woman. Men wanted and women wanted to be her, she always thought it to be funny because she’d always thank magic for that, and of course, her Mama’s good looks. 

[y/n] nodded her head at the tiny woman and motioned her to sit along the wall with the other women, all waiting for a turn with the Love Witch of Mississippi. [y/n]’s current client lifted her head slightly, peaking at the long line of women that were sitting waiting on her.

“Oh chile, you definitely got ya work cut out today!” she perked up, as [y/n] giggled

“All dem here for the Love Witch of Mississippi!” she declared. [y/n] gave a small laugh and tucked her head a bit.

Although very good at all the work she does, [y/n]’s was still humble and modest. Josephine peered over at her daughter and gave a huge laugh, shaking her head.

“All that work you doing ‘nd ya tucking tail, girl?” Josephine barked amusingly at her daughter.

[y/n] face started to heat up with just a twinge of embarrassment. She looked over to tell her mama something, but her mother beat her to it,

“Unt unt girl, hol’ that head high like I taught you! I ain’t raising no sissy.” she exclaimed finally, while giving an eye rolling scrub to the client at the sink bowl. 

[y/n] just shook her head and held her head high, at her mother’s request. To that [y/n] client perked up, 

“Ohhh girl that aphrodisiac oil you blessed me wit’ had Clarence alllllll ov’r me, girl!” she raved.

“It was like he couldn’t get ‘nough of me, talm bout he want another baby!”

The women erupted in laughter at the client’s confession and review. Another client leaned over to talk about how her husband was finally looking her way and not at the neighbor, another woman told tale of how her husband worships the ground that she walks on, literally and figuratively. And the stories went on and on and on, the woman thanking [y/n] over and over again. All [y/n] could do was bow her head in thanks and mutter a small, “my pleasure, ladies”.

As the day wore on, [y/n] ended up with a laundry list of women to cater to. Tales of truly heartbroken women hoping for their men, or any man would just pay them a lil attention. It broke [y/n]’s heart, she sympathized with some of them. I mean, that’s part of the reason that she started this little business. A little over seven years ago, Elias “Stack” Moore left with her heart to Chicago. It stung bad when he left. No warning, no real explanation, just the sweet nothings he left behind in the evening hours. [y/n] reminisced on those late nights, sharing thoughts, dreams and mental scars. 

“Y’know [y/n], you’re real. You’re a real woman.” Stack claimed, staring into your eyes.

[y/n] chuckled, “Well, duh ‘Lias, what else imma be? Hm?”

He just kept staring at you, sucking his teeth and letting out a slight chuckle. His infamous smirk brandishing his face.

“Obviously, [y/n]! I mean like your a woman a nigga wanna settle wit’, y’know. I ‘ont want anybody else.” he confessed.

You looked off into the night sky and smiled slightly.

“You sure, ‘cause it look like lil ole Mary still got a grasp on ya.” you rebutted.

Stack shook his head, face straight.

“Nah, me and her done. She married off to some white muhfucker, i ain’t in it with her no more.” 

“Yeah, yeah Stack. If you say so…” [y/n] trailed off.

Stack kneeled down in front of [y/n], grabbing her hand and staring right into her eyes. He has this way about him that would ensnare [y/n]’s whole soul, like she’d give anything for this man. 

“I mean it, mama. I wanna marry ya, I want ya to be the mother of my children. I want to call ya my wife. You ‘ont want that wit’ me?” he whispered into her hand, as he trailed kisses up her arm, before they were face to face.

[y/n] shivered at the confession. Her face heated up with passion and love. [y/n] leaned forward, embracing Stack in a slow, passionate, tender kiss. It was as if the time stood still for them, their lips locked and intertwined in a dance they both knew all too well. If it weren’t for air, they would’ve made out until the end of time. Pulling away from each other, their eyes instantly locked on each other and [y/n] gave a small chuckle. Stack shook his head and threw it down before raising it again to say,

“You still ain’t answer my question tho, mama.”

The both doubled over in laughter as [y/n] gave him a rough nudge.

That memory of his laugh blessed her mind, day in and day out, for seven years, as she thought she’d never get to hear it again. [y/n] smiled to herself as she began to think on that moment again, as she swept the floor.

The door’s bell chimed and heels clicked to the desk. A woman inquired softly, 

“I-is [y/n] here? I need to see her.”

The whole salon stood still. [y/n] heard the voice and her heart dropped, but she turned to face Mary. Mary straightened her posture and walked past all the women straight to [y/n]. She smiled and looked [y/n] up and down.

“My, my look at cha! You’ve grown so nice.” she buttered up to [y/n].

[y/n] gave a strained smile and took the broom on her right hand to lean on and gave Mary a once over too.

“I could say the same for you. Sorry ‘bout ya ma, but what brings ya in here?”

“Stack is back! I lost him once and I ain't finna lose ‘im again. I hear of the work you be doing, you can’t do a lil something for me?” Mary begged.

[y/n]’s heart strings twinged.

“Um, aint you married, lil Mary?” Josephine barked maliciously, faced laced with disgust.

Mary knew better than to cut her eye at the witch, so she gave a straight smile and shook her head, before responding,

“This business is between me and ya daughter. With all do respect Mrs. [Last Name], I prefer to keep it between us.”

Josephine just rolled her eyes, before cutting her eyes at [y/n] as to say “Don’t you help that girl”. [y/n] raised her head, blinking a few times before asking what she needed. As the Love Witch of Mississippi, she never turned away a client, and she wasn’t about to do it now. After hearing Mary out, she took down her request and Mary walked out, giddy as a kid. Adding injury to insult, she invited [y/n] to join her tonight to surprise Stack at the new Juke Joint.  Josephine dropped her head in disbelief, shoulders bouncing up and down with a little chuckle. [y/n] placed the broom in the corner, taking off her apron and shoving her client list and request in her pocket. Josephine’s head whipped towards her daughter in disbelief and anger. If looks could kill, [y/n] would’ve been dead.

“The hell’s wrong wit ya girl? I aint teach ya to have sense?! Why you ain’t tell that promiscuous little whore no?” Josephine snapped, arms waving about.

[y/n] rolled her eyes, locking eyes with her mother. [y/n] eyes held something her mother had never seen before. Disdain, anger, heartache, confusion, and worse of all, revenge. Josephine’s eyes widened, she clamped her hands on her daughter's shoulders tight and she looked deep into her.

“Baby, I know what you’re feeling, but what you thinking of doing, ain’t the answer,” Josephine started softly.

“I ain’t teach you the arts to be consumed by that darkness. I taught you to help folks. That Mary girl shouldn’t be the reason you lose ya self! Especially if it's over some man. You do this and you lose yourself. Don’t do it.” Josephine expressed as she caressed her daughter’s arms.

[y/n] felt ashamed that she let those thoughts consume her. She always said she’d never turn that way, that she’d never stray too far from her mother’s way of teaching. But there was a fire burning in the pits of her stomach. Mary; married and put up by a successful white man, still yearned the man [y/n] had prayed every night would return to her. Why did she feel like she had such a pull, such a presence, that Stack would be happy to have her back? Didn’t he push her away? What couldn’t she understand? [y/n]’s mind wandered farther and farther from reality. Emotional strain dancing across her eyes as tears began to quiver her strong exterior. A flood of disgusting thoughts came to her mind as she imagined her work on Stack for Mary and she couldn’t take it. [y/n]’s mother jolted her back to reality, drawing [y/n] back to the present.

[y/n] rapidly blinked and verbally agreed with her mother that Mary wasn’t worth it and [y/n] would cast no spell, but mentally [y/n] prepared herself for the work she was about to perform.

✩✩✩✩

[y/n]’s kneeled down in front of her altar.

Candle flames dance manically around her as she starts on her incantation. A picture of Mary from the paper, a pocket knife, a bat’s wing, grave dirt and a jar. [y/n] looked at the items she had in front of her and sighed, shaking her head side to side.

Do I really wanna do this? Am I really any better? Should I just heed Mama’s warning?

[y/n] was about to throw everything away when she heard wheels on the gravel of her driveway. Looking out she seen Mary, beaming with excitement, fluffing her hair. It truly disgusted [y/n] to see the bitch giddy, thinking that [y/n]’s really helping her get Stack. [y/n] threw herself back on the floor grabbing the pocket knife and slicing herself across her hand, allowing her blood to coat Mary’s picture. As quietly as she could, [y/n] recited an incantation, licking the wound and spitting on Mary’s picture. Next, she crumbled up the bat's wing and sprinkled it on the blood and covered everything with the grave dirt. Slowly, [y/n] lifted the pile and lowered it into the jar before shaking it ferociously. [y/n] looked at her handy work and smiled slyly before placing it behind her mirror and getting ready.