No Good // Willard Russell Part One

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.

roman-cek reblogged

scxrsgxrd

Anonymous asked:

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🥺🐚

scxrsgxrd answered:

~~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).

No Good // Willard Russell Part One

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