as always, requests are open if there's certain culkin projects you want posts about - including episodes of succession, movies, promos or interviews, whatever you want
i've kind of been in my hot mess era (it's my birthday soon and i have depression LMFAO so good combo) but i love having things to work on so let me know. or just say hi lol idc
SO IS THAT ANATOL'S REAL HAIR IN BOARDWALK, orrr? signs point to no, and i could probably do a google search, but you're the expert here. happy tuesday!
aw expert is flattery but thank u IT IS NOT HIS REAL HAIR it is what i think is a very convincing hairpiece, because i didn’t realize until i saw red carpet photos. the last thing he had his own hair in is from 1995, as far as i can tell, and he’s in it for all of five seconds but it is long enough to see that he still had hair at that point, and he was in an episode of something i haven’t been able to find in 1997 [and lowkey sounds racist as fuck based on the character name they gave him. oh britain.] but the next thing he was in was in 2000 and he was bald in that, so yeah, he went bald sometime in his late teens/early 20s
he wears a lot of v nice newsboy caps though, like all of his not-red-carpet photos he has one on and they look A+ imo
No Treats
Dad's Best Friend!Rory Culkin x Teenaged!Reader (pt. 4)
Summary: You've finally made friends! Hooray! Looking forward to expanding your new little circle, you follow your group to a Halloween party. Surely, you'll just socialize and play a couple games, right? Wrong! It all goes to shit. Unsure of what else to do, you ring Rory, who thinks you're safely tucked into bed.
WC: 2.1k
Warnings: Language, mentions of pot and drinking
Masterlist
God, this was a mistake.
Your hands shook in the frigid October air, wishing you'd just listened to Rory. But no; you had to make a good impression with your friends and sneak out. And for what? A party where you didn't even do anything fun? Useless. You hit the dial button and held the phone to your ear, hoping Rory wouldn't be too mad with you.
The longer the line droned on, the more worked up you got. If he didn't answer, you were stuck. You'd have to walk home, in the middle of the night, in a bad part of Bushwick. He'd certainly be more upset that you faced the streets unarmed at that point. But thirty seconds into the call, and he still didn't pick up.
Thirty one...
"Come on, Rory..."
Thirty two...
You rubbed your free hand across your eyes, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.
Thirty three...
"You better have a damn good reason for calling me when I'm literally across the hall."
You'd never been so happy to wake someone up before. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief upon hearing his voice, more tears welling up in your eyes.
"Rory?"
"That's who you called, yeah. You got a secret boyfriend you're trying to call at this hour?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words never came. Instead, you burst into tears, leaning against the cold brick of the house. Rory had started to say something, the concern clear in his voice, but you cut him off.
"I need you to come get me," you sobbed. "I-- I went out with Felix and Olivia and Veronica, a-and I don't want to be here anymore. They're drinking, and the whole house smells like pot, and I walked into a bedroom and--"
"Kid-- kid, stop," Rory said firmly. "What do you mean, you went out? Did you go to that party?"
"Uh huh." You nodded, as if he could see you. "I know you said no; I'm sorry. I just wanted them to like me."
"Jesus," he muttered. "I'm not going to fight with you about that right now. Where was the party again? You said Jefferson, I think. Right?"
"That's what they said, but we're on Cypress. They changed it at the last minute." You sniffed. Across the street, you watched a group of young adults-- maybe a few years older than you-- stumble in a huddle around the corner. "I'm scared, Rory."
"Cypress is worse than Jefferson, you know that, right?" You heard the jingling of keys on the other side of the line. "But it is a little closer. Are you on a corner, or do I have to look for you?"
"I-- I think the sign says Suydam Street?" You squinted in the darkness, eyeing the sign by the group of characters. "I don't want to go check; I'm scared."
"Okay, Cypress and Suydam. I'm coming. Do not move." Rory slid into the Station Wagon, silently very thankful that the windshield hadn't frosted over yet. "Tell me what you're scared of."
"There's a group of people across the street, and I think they're drunk, and there's at least... I don't know, fifteen drunk people inside--"
"Fifteen? How many people are there?"
"Too many. But the house smells like pot, and I walked into a bedroom at one point to get some quiet, and I-- I don't want to talk about what I saw in there."
"Did you walk in on someone?"
"Try three someone's."
He'd laugh about it later. For now, his concern was the fact that the light was red, and he was so close to you. "Damn, this light," he muttered. "I'm almost there, okay? Why don't you go stand under a streetlight?"
Your eyes bounced back to the group, who'd stopped progressing forward and were instead loitering in front of the complex across the street, swaying and cackling drunkenly. "I'd rather wait until I see you," you said, wiping your cheeks.
"Well, how am I supposed to see you if you're hidden away in the shadows?" Rory countered. "Go stand under a light."
"Rory--"
"I'm trying to get you out of this as fast as I can. So, unless you feel like being there for an extra ten seconds while you come to the car, I suggest you move." He spoke in a firm tone you were yet to hear from him. "I'm almost there. Just go."
You fought down a whimper and stepped off the porch, watching the group. They seemed to be fascinated by something one of them had, all huddled together and bent over. "Please, hurry."
"I just turned onto Cypress. I'm almost there."
A few seconds later, you saw a pair of yellowed headlights come up the hill. It took everything in you not to run for him right then.
"I see you!" You exclaimed.
"Yeah, I see you, too. I'm coming."
The line went dead as Rory slowed to a stop in front of you. You threw open the passenger door, taking in his state as you climbed in. He had pulled on a coat, but hadn't bothered to zip it, leaving his chest exposed. His sweatpants were bunched up on one leg, and you couldn't tell if he even had shoes on. His hair stuck out in every direction, but the look on his face told you the most. He didn't look very happy, but above all else, he looked terrified.
"Are you okay?" He asked, not even letting the door shut completely before pulling away from the curb. "Did you drink anything?"
"No. I only had a can of coke. Thank you for coming," you replied quietly, turning your eyes to your own feet. "I'm sorry."
"You'll be sorry tomorrow. Right now, I'm more scared than anything." He ran a hand through his hair, doing absolutely nothing to fix it. "First thing in the morning, we're getting a tracking app on your phone."
"...are you mad?"
"I want to be," he replied honestly. "You snuck out after I told you not to go to a party in a bad part of town, ended up at a party in a worse part of town, not to mention you woke me up because you wanted to leave the party I said you couldn't go to. But I'm..." He took his eyes off the road, looking at you earnestly. "I'm glad you're okay." I told you not to go for a reason."
"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't have any fun."
"It doesn't."
"Oh."
You stayed quiet, focused on getting your heart to slow down. I'm safe. I'm okay. I'm going to be home soon. I'm okay. The thoughts didn't help much. That was the thing about positive thinking: it only worked if you were in a positive situation. Thinking good thoughts never saved someone from Freddy Krueger; it seemed like sort of a gimmick.
You reached for Rory's hand, just wanting something to ground you. You half expected him to pull away. Instead, he gripped your hand tightly, almost to the point where it hurt. He rubbed his thumb against your knuckles. The motion was soothing, but it was more for him than you. You were safe. You were with him. You were okay.
Neither of you spoke as Rory pulled into his parking space, engine shutting off with a sputter and a new concerning sound that definitely needed to be checked out. You stepped outside, following him as he headed for the door of the complex. You could now see the shoe situation and saw that he had left the house in only socks.
"Rory?" You called, walking up to his side.
He didn't call back. Just opened the door and led you inside.
"Rory?"
He pressed the 'up' button for the elevator.
"Rory?"
"I need you to be quiet for a minute," he huffed. "I'm busy being angry."
Your brow furrowed. You thought that he was supposed to be upset then, considering that you were supposed to be sorry then. "I'm sorry," you muttered. "I-- I just wanted them to like me."
Rory shook his head and stepped into the jaws of the elevator. "Don't--" He held up a hand. "Please. Just... give me a minute."
So, you did. As much as you wanted to apologize over and over again, you didn't. You trailed silently behind him as he approached the apartment, shuffling your feet like a kicked puppy. You knew you were in the wrong, but this waiting game was pure hell.
Peach rubbed against your legs when you stepped inside the safety of Rory's apartment, mewling curiously. You gave him a gentle nudge so you could take your shoes. Of course, that didn't do much, and you had to untie them with a Calico constantly blocking your line of sight.
When you stood up, you turned around, intent on apologizing one more time before going to bed. Instead of seeing Rory beside you, like he had been just seconds ago, he had his hands braced against the kitchen counter, bent over with his head hung.
"Rory?" You approached hesitantly, not wanting to annoy him with how much you continued to talk through his requested silence. "Are you okay?"
He looked up at you through the strands of brown hair that had fallen down into his face. The look in his eyes suggested that he might snap at you. Instead, he took his hands off the granite countertop and grabbed you, pulling you tight against his chest.
"Please don't ever do that again," he whispered into your hair. "You have no idea how scared I was."
"I won't." You hugged him just as tight. "I'm sorry."
He pressed a hand against the back of your head. For the first time, you noticed he was shaking. "I mean it," he muttered. "We're getting a tracker for your phone."
"Okay."
"And a lock for your window."
"Okay...?"
"And you're staying with me tonight." Rory pulled back slightly, holding you by your shoulders. "I don't want you out of my sight."
You blinked. You'd been expecting some sort of punishment-- maybe a lifetime grounding, or a demand to find new friends-- not a request for you to spend the night with him. But seeing the exhaustion written all over his face, you knew you couldn't fight him on this one.
"...okay," you replied.
Rory led you down the hallway, a hand on your lower back. His sheets had been flung halfway onto the floor with the velocity he got up with. His wallet was still on his bedside table. Good thing he didn't get pulled over for driving while making a phone call.
"Go on." He patted your back. "I'll be right there."
You quietly slid into his bed, glancing back at him. "Where are you going?"
To your surprise, Rory chuckled. He pushed his hair out of his face once more, to no avail, and looked back up at you. "You, uh, you scared me so bad, I have to pee," he admitted. "I'll be back in a minute."
At least I didn't scare the shit out of him, you thought. That'd be worse to clean up.
Sure enough, Rory climbed under the sheets a few moments later. He rolled onto his side, settling a hand on the side of your head.
"We'll talk more about this tomorrow, okay? But for right now, I want you to know something." He took a breath, shuffling slightly. "If you ever sneak out again, I'll kick your ass. But I'm glad you called me. If you're ever in a situation where you're scared and you want to leave, I want you to do exactly what you did tonight. Okay?"
"'kay."
"...c'mere." Rory pulled you back into his arms. To your relief, his heart beat at a much more normal pace. If it had still been racing, you might have had to apologize again.
"...Rory?"
He hummed against your shoulder, giving you a small, encouraging squeeze.
"...thank you for coming."
For a minute, his grip tightened once more. Then, he relaxed (just slightly). "I'd always come for you," he muttered. "Anytime, anywhere. You call me? I'm there."
"Promise?"
He leaned away, looking at you with a considering expression. It wasn't that he didn't know if he could promise-- he did, and he would absolutely promise. It was how he would solidify that promise that he wasn't sure about.
...oh, hell. Why not?
He pressed his lips against your forehead. Just for a second, then they were gone.
"Promise.
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