timothée chalamet requests

☾ request twelve

timothée's pov

I smiled as y/n wrapped herself up in a robe and made her way toward me at the back of the room.

"So," she smiled "what do you think?" she asked.

"What do I think?" I asked. "God, what am I not thinking about right now." I say, pulling her into me by the waist.

She laughs, pushing me away after I plant kisses on her cheeks and neck. "Timothée," she clears her throat "I'm still working."

"I know," I grab her hand "but you know that I can't help myself."

She grins. "I know you can't."

"Y/n!" the photographer yells and she turns to look at them.

"We want to get the last shots in before lunch."

"Alright," she says and turns back around to look at me "duty calls."

"Right," I nod "hurry though, There's a restaurant I heard that's good a few blocks down, I'll take you to lunch. And I'll have you back before duty calls again." I chuckle.

She opens her mouth to speak, but doesn't.

"What's wrong?" I ask, quick to notice her change in expression and mood.

"It's nothing." she shakes her head.

"You sure?" I ask.

She nods. "I'm sure." she smiles and presses a short kiss on my lips, walking back to the photo shoot set; posing like the natural she is.

Lunch time....

"I'll have the club sandwich." I say.

"And what would you like for your side?"

"Fries, please." I say, folding up the menu and handing it to the waiter.

He turns to y/n. "And for you?"

"Umm.." she stalls and quickly flips through the menu again "I'll have the simple salad."

"What size?" the waiter asks, writing down in his pad quickly.

"Half."

"And what dressing would you like?" he asks.

"No dressing," y/n says, handing the waiter her menu "thank you."

"Alright," the waiter nods "half simple salad, no dressing, club sandwich with fries, correct?"

"Yes." y/n and I say at the same time with nods.

"Your food should be out quickly." he smiles.

"Thank you." y/n and I say simultaneously and we laugh as the waiter walks away.

Y/n sips her glass of water as I, now shamelessly, sip my can of coke.

"Is your stomach upset or something?"

She shakes her head. "No, why?"

"You just got a half salad with no dressing."

"And?" she asks confused.

"You don't even like salad that much and you always get (your favorite dish) at every restaurant if they have it - they have it here."

"I don't like salad that much," she says "you're right. But I've got a shoot to get back to after this, I can't bloat - that doesn't sell. Or look good."

I just nod, dismissing the explanation for getting herself a boring ass salad.

It's not like her to be so obsessive about what she looks like for a photo shoot, she always wondered why others took them so seriously.