Hello everyone! Ever since reading ‘The Devil All The Time’ I’ve had numerous Willard thoughts that I noted down which created this, and with the movie being released I thought I’d publish it :) I’d love to know everyone’s thoughts, and I always appreciate you all taking time to read my works and love reading your responses. It truly means so much to me <3.
WARNINGS: 18+ mature language, mentions of death, alcohol, smoking and violence.
Lillian Brown couldn’t remember how old she was the night her parents died. It was all a blur; a memory she intended to keep repressed. What she could recall was that two days after the accident her mother’s sister, Barbara, came to Lil’s house, packed her a small bag and bundled her into her Uncle Al’s car for the hours journey to knockemstiff, a small town that Lil had never felt she could call home.
But that was two decades ago; and since then she had a whole lot to be thankful for. Her Aunt and Uncle, who themselves were childless, raised Lil as if she were their own, and now she worked in her Uncle Al’s bar. It was a small place with mould lining the walls that stunk of piss and stale booze; but it was a paycheck at the end of the month, and allowed Lil to be surrounded by the only family she had left.
Lil knew she wasn’t like her Aunt Barb; she was quiet, too quiet. The type of quiet that men in the bar took advantage of, leering at her after they’d had a few beers, their sleazy eyes raking up and down her as they, not so quietly, announced what they’d like to do to her once her shift ended. Lil wished she had the courage to challenge these men like her Aunt Barb had taught her, but to no avail, she hated making a fuss.
“That’s exactly your problem, missy.” Her Aunt Barb would often tell her. “You got too much of your mother in you.”
From Lil’s position behind the bar on a Wednesday evening she could see a man sat in a corner booth; but this particular man didn’t have the look of the others who came to drink at Al’s Bar. She squinted to get a better look at him, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dusky lighting in the room. From what she could gather, the man couldn’t be any older than his late twenties; his cheekbones were almost too perfectly sculpted, and his hair was still thick, and a few strands were curled over his forehead as he studied the tumbler of Southern Comfort on the table before him. Lil hadn’t been specifically counting the number of drinks he’d consumed, but she calculated in the hour he’d been in Al’s, he was damn near close to polishing off the whole bottle of liqueur that was sat behind the bar. His stare was one of the coldest Lil had ever seen, there was nothing in his eyes; no glimmer of hope or happiness, instead he seemed to be sheltering a deep, unbridled rage of some kind.
She watched as he pulled the glass up to his dry lips and swigged the whole amount, letting it sit in his cheeks for a few seconds before gulping and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He slammed the glass back onto the table; but his gaze stayed on the glass. Absentmindedly he began to twirl around the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, his lips pursing tighter and tighter with each small twirl.
“Honey, don’t even think about it.” Lil whipped around to see her aunt Barb stood beside her, her right eyebrow was raised and her arms were crossed as she examined the girl stood before her.
“No I wasn’t.. I was just looking, Aunt Barb, that’s all.” Lil sighed and reached for the old cloth under the bar and began to wipe down the sticky bear spills that stained the old wood.
“Well don’t, sweetie. Take it from me, Willard Russell is damaged goods. Ain’t nothin’ good nor right about that man.” Barb hushed her voice slightly, for she was all too wary of the reputation Willard’s temper had gained him.
Lil sighed once more.
“I mean it. He ain’t even go to church no more, just into the woods to kneel at some stinkin’ prayer log he made before his wife passed. It’s his son I feel most sorry for.” Barb whispered, making sure to take a quick glance at Willard to ensure he was out of ear range. Lil’s Aunt was a God fearing woman; she never missed a Sunday service, not even when Al came down with a bad fever a few months back. Nevertheless, she was a sucker for the town gossip, especially where the Russell’s were concerned.
“His son?” There was a sense of shock in Lil’s tone, this hard-eyed man who could stomach a whole bottle of Southern Comfort in just over an hour was the last person she was expecting to be a father.
“Mhm, after the.. incident with Willard he moved in with his grandmother in Coal Creek, Lord knows she’s the only one who could give the poor boy a half decent upbringing.” Lil’s Aunt tutted and shook her head slightly as she remembered the sleepless nights she’d had from Willard and the small boy’s prayers when Charlotte was sick, and the rumoured state Arvin had found his father in in the woods a few days after her passing.
Before Lil was able to further question her Aunt, he heard someone loudly clear their throat, and a glass clang on the bar, a few droplets of whatever was left in the glass sprinkled onto the surface she had just seen. She was about to curse when her eyes flicked up to see that the man was Willard Russell.
Lil found herself unable to speak to the man, her throat felt raw as if she hadn’t drank for a whole day. Willard was leant against the bar, propping himself up with his elbow which allowed Lil to see how huge the man was. He was slender with long limbs, particularly his legs, but she could see that he had some meat on his arms and a few scrapes on his knuckles.
“Somethin’ bothering you, girl?” Willard was unnerved by this girl he had never seen before staring him down as if he were some kind of prey, he just wanted his damned drink in peace. He’d tuned into the whispers around him whenever he walked into sort of social joint in town, the stares he got and the raised eyebrows; his tolerance with these people was beginning to wear thin.
“No, sir. My apologies, what can I get you?” The girl smiled; but it wasn’t a real smile. The corners of her mouth forcibly tugged upwards as she struggled to make eye contact with the man on the other side of the bar; Willard knew she was intimidated.
Good. About time some of motherfuckers learned some respect.
“Beer, don’t care which.” His voice was deep, deeper than Lil was expecting, and it was laced with a type of pain she recognised; grief. Willard reached into his shirt pocked and produced a cigarette, rubbing the butt of it against his bottom lip before settling it into the left corner in his mouth.
By the time Lil had cracked the top off of Willard’s beer and handed it to him he was halfway through his cigarette, studying her as she removed the tumbler he was previously drinking from and wiped down the bar. From the way she relentlessly scrubbed at the stains on the rotting wood he deduced she was new, and that she sure as hell wasn’t going to last much longer in town; not from the way some of the sons of bitches in the booths were looking at her.
Once Willard had finished his beer he slowly rose to his feet, the large amount of alcohol he had consumed in the small amount of time was beginning to rise to his head; he needed to find a place to sleep. He dug his hand deep into the pocket of his brown slacks until he managed to produce his wallet. Willard didn’t care to ask how much his bill was, and the meek little barmaid sure as hell wasn’t about to challenge him.
Lil watched as Willard’s bony fingers pulled out whatever crumpled dollar notes were left in his wallet and threw them onto the bar in front of her, which she was damn sure wasn’t proportionate to the amount he’d drank. Nevertheless, she picked up the money and flashed a small smile at the tall man, which he ignored as he began to stumble his way out of the bar, knocking over a barstool as he went.
“Good riddance.” Barb muttered under her breath once Willard had finally managed to stagger his way out of the bar. That man gave her the shivers; there was no life left in his eyes, not since Charlotte passed, and he only seemed to emanate darkness.
She didn’t like the way she had caught her niece looking at Willard. Lil was naïve, too soft for the town of knockemstiff, and Barb would be damned before she let her kin become involved with a man like Willard.
Lil’ Mickey teaching you how to pick the best shells, even though every shell is a good shell to Mickey he would still have his secret favourites🥺🐚
I am not and never will be over the ending of villains
The sun was beating down on you while you were on the beach, your toes wiggling in the warm sand as you combed the area for any sea shells that had the potential to be sold in Mickey’s makeshift shop. Mickey was sat by the side of you, brushing sand off the small shells you had left in a bucket and carefully inspecting each one.
“Any luck?” You asked as reached the bottom of the bucket, a grin on his face as he pulled out the first unharmed shell and held it up to the sun.
“This ones gonna be a hit baby.” He blew the sand off the shell and gently placed it on the blanket in front of him as the first shell of his shop.
“Great. It only took a whole hour to find one that wasn’t broken.” You sighed and took a swig of your water, the heat was beginning to get the better of you as you slumped onto the sand and gazed at the pile of fragmented shells that Mickey had deemed unsellable.
“Don’t be like that. There’s a fine art to shell collecting.” Mickey raised his eyebrow and took hold of the bucket, scooping the cracked shells back into it before picking a cone shaped one out.
“Hey there little guy.” Suddenly the shell seemed to grow legs as it crawled across Mickey’s hand before he gently set it down onto the sand, watching cautiously as it made its way over to the nearest rock.
“This is going to be impossible.” A small groan left you as you lay down onto the sand, the heat from sun getting more intense by the minute.
“C’mon honey, we’ll go over to the shoreline and look together.” Mickey held out his hand to you and helped you up, brushing the sand off your shorts before walking over to the edge of the sea. The cool water was refreshing as you let small waves lap around your ankles, watching as Mickey knelt down to collect small shells that the tide had washed to shore.
After a few minutes you bent down to join him, watching as he beamed once he found his perfect shell, gently placing each one into the bucket as he carefully talked you through the picking process, the wide grin never leaving his face as he spent the rest of the day filling the bucket with numerous shells and haggling almost every beach goer to buy one (or two).
You get Henry a little kitten to keep him company while he’s home during the day and he loves it but doesn’t have it in your heart to tell you he’s allergic to it omfg
AHHHHHH MY HEART :’)
It had always pained you to leave Henry during the day while you had to go to work. Though he insisted he was fine with sleeping and painting, you knew he was lonely; you’d often catch him gazing out of the window as you walked up the driveway, waiting for you to arrive back home.
That was why there was a small ball of fur on your lap as you drove home. The kitten had insisted on plopping itself on your knees as it had almost immediately climbed out of the box on the backseat, mewling for your attention as you tried your best to concentrate on the road ahead of you. The killer moment came when you had to brake suddenly, and the kitten instinctively dug its claws into your thighs to prevent it sliding off the seat. You almost flew out of your seat as you yelled various profanities, the kitten looking up at you with its big, unimpressed eyes.
Once you opened the front door Henry was already halfway down the stairs to greet you, his feet skidding to a halt when he saw the bundle of fluff and claws in your arms. The sight of the kitten was almost enough to set off a sneezing fit, as he dug his nose into his arm while he sneezed four, five times.
“Henry? Are you alright?” You asked as he sniffled and then quickly grabbed several tissues.
“Yes, of course. Um, why do you have a kitten?” He looked warily at the cat as it ran over to him with its tail in the air, stopping at his feet to bite at his shoelaces.
“This is Pumpkin. She’s here to keep you company while I’m working.” You smiled as she stared up at Henry, imploring for him to pick her up and fuss over her.
“A kitten? To stay at the house all day?” He bent down to pat her head quickly before pulling away as he felt his throat tighten and his nose twitch.
“All day.” You responded, dumping the box of cat toys in front of him before fetching the food from the car.
Henry was absolutely not about to tell you he was allergic to cats. Instead, he blew his nose and shoved another tissue up his sleeve, watching Pumpkin as she climbed onto the sofa and made herself accustomed to his spot whilst she curled up on his cushion. She began to purr as she stretched herself out before closing her eyes and falling asleep, leaving Henry to perch on the other end of the sofa, with only one thought on his mind:
Hey lovelies! I just noticed that my anon had been switched off and had no idea, so if anyone wants to send it any prompts/requests feel free! I’d love to talk to you all :)
jacobvanloon
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