The Love Witch of Mississippi
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.
[y/n] threw on a deep red mermaid silk dress with draping along the back that expose a small portion of her back, a matching scarf, little gold heels, and lace gloves. [y/n] raced downstairs, bidding her mother adieu, and she set off with Mary.