timothée chalamet imagines

factory's closed

y/d/n: your first daughter's name
y/s/n: your son's name
y/s/d/n: your second daughter's name

timothée's pov

"I'll give you three some time alone," the nurse says helping y/n back into the hospital bed "hit the call button if you need anything."

We both thank her and she leaves the room, closing the door. I pull the chair next to the bed and sit down with a tiny and delicate human nestled in my arms.

"I can't believe you were right."

"I always am." Y/n smiles and laughs.

"Now we have two little girls."

We'd decided to find out the gender of our third child after their arrival.

"Do you think y/f/d/n will be jealous?" I ask.

She nods. "And y/s/n is going to be so mad that he has another little sister."

"Definitely."

"She looks like like you." I smile, looking right down at y/s/d/n.

"No way," she says "she's your twin."

I shake my head. "None of the kids look like me. Is there anything you'd like to confess, y/n?" I jokingly raise an eyebrow.

"Are you serious?" she chuckle as I nod. "Do I have to recount where, when and how each of them were conceived for you to know that they're all yours, Timothée?"

"If you did," I lean close to her "you'd seriously be popping out another baby in nine months."

She gives me a short kiss. "Factory's closed."

A/N: I feel like this one's dumb lmaoo