Long Series About Timothee Chalamet

Hayloft (P3)

Warnings - smut, fingering, masturbation, hand job, mention of drugs and addiction, buying a gun, mentions of religion, lying, framing for murder, talking of killing, adults giving drugs to children, panic attack

A/N - the end I have planned for this series is SUPER dark, so if you don't wanna get invested, I would advise against reading further.

"I'm so glad you called me, I'm sorry it dropped, I was just so happy. I didn't even remember my father was up for parole again!" I simpered into the phone. It would be hard to convince this particular operator. The number of times I told her I hoped my dad rotted and to lose my fucking number were too many to count. I wasn't sure why my father always requested me, probably because he had no one else.

"Yes, I've had an encounter with the lord and turned my life around. I'm ready to forgive my father, and I don't want him to spend his life in prison. No one should live like that when we're all children of the lord."

Timothée was giving me a shadowy thumbs up. I smiled at him. I was laying on thick, but an appropriate amount for how much I needed to prove my change.

"Thank you, yes, tell him I love him. God be with you."

"God be with you?" Timothée chuckled.

"It needs to be convincing, and that's what someone who believed the things, I said, would say."

"You did good," he said, and my cheek tingled as he tried to kiss it. He was still just as affectionate as he'd always been, even though he couldn't touch me.

"There's something else I need to do today," I said. "Before we leave this city and go back home."

"What?"

"Well, I don't own a gun," I said.

"Won't they be able to track that down?"

"I don't intend on buying it from a store," I smirked. Timothée and I headed across the city, to the dingier, sordid part. I knew just who I needed to see. Thankfully, it seemed I was the only person who could see Timothée.

We made it to a ramshackle old house, with the windows broken and trash everywhere. Drug needles littered the ground, as well as butts of cigarettes. I knocked on the door.

"How in the world do you know this place?" Timothée asked.

"I got into some crazy shit after you... well, my dad knew them so they were willing to sell to me."

"So they have a gun you can buy?"

"He has everything."

A burly man covered in tattoos came to the door. His eyes yes lit up when he saw me.

"Y/n, I haven't seen you in a while. Ready to fuck up your sobriety?"

"I wanna see venom," I said curtly. "I need to buy something off him."

"Come in," he grunted. I followed him into the smelly, ramshackle house. I was led to their gang leader. Venom had shaved his head since I'd last seen him.

"Hey Venom," I said, arms crossed. "I need to buy a shotgun, R.F.M Zeus."

I saw Timothée flinch. It was the gun my father had used to shoot him.

"A shotgun," he laughed.

"Whatcha want that for?"

"My apartment was broken into last week. I wouldn't pass the psych evaluation, you know my history," I explained, folding my arms.

"You wouldn't, that's for sure," he chuckled. "Alright, since you've been such a good customer over the years, we can definitely make a deal. Only cash."