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J U S T A B O Y ❛ and i could live, i could die, hanging on the words you say ❜ (sixteen )
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everyone gasped when you just happened to mention that your dad was a cameraman on the saturday night live set. it was a piece of information that made the hairs of people's necks stand up and, of course, there would be the occasional attention seeking jerk who would only speak to you for that sole reason.
but you had learned to handle it like a mature human being. you basically had no choice. it wasn't like it was gonna stop.
besides, you couldn't pretend it wasn't fun to visit your dad at work. heck, some of the very recurrent stars knew of you, which was pretty damn cool.
bill hader had bought you a salad once when you were twelve and his big smile and broad shoulder scared you.
kate mckinnon helped you find your way back to your father one of the many times you got lost on set.
motherfucking kristen wiig told you she loved your shoes that one time when you were fifteen as well.
sometimes, it was pretty neat to be you.
but this saturday's show was gonna be different. because a very special person was hosting, and your dad didn't hesitate to give you the news the minute the information got to him.
timothée chalamet would be hosting.
timmy. your timmy.
and those were the words that had come out of your mouth when your dad told you about this. he snickered at you calling him 'your timmy' but then again, he was your timmy as far as your family and friends were concerned.
you were determined to be on set that day.
except you didn't count on the fact that you'd wake up sick to your stomach on saturday the 12th with the sound of your alarm. for a minute, you thought you were genuinely ill.
but it didn't take long for you to realize that it was merely your anxiety being a good old pain in the ass. you washed your face and had a cup of coffee with your dad while your mom was still fast asleep.
"so, how are you doing, kiddo?" your dad asked.
"i'm scared." you chuckled nervously.
"i bet." he said with a loving smile on his face. "everything's gonna be fine, y/n. from what i've been told, it's a pretty damn good script. today's gonna be fun, sweetie, don't you worry about a thing." man, sometimes i really love my dad. he kissed your forehead.
