timothée chalamet imagines

baby brother

timothée's pov

"Can you get your brother's blanket, please? The one in his crib?" I ask my six year old daughter as I cradle her baby brother, trying to get him to quiet down for just a free seconds.

She pouts and crosses her arms. "No!" It seems like that has just recently become her  new favorite word or the only in her vocabulary.

"Y/d/n," I say "please?" I sigh and ask again.

"No!" she yells. I shake my head as y/s/n only seems to cry louder, the cradling isn't helping.

I start to get up from the couch to get the blanket myself and avoid having to deal with the start of my daughter's possible tantrum.

As I go up the stairs, y/n appears at the very top. Her body is sluggish, her hair is a mess and her eyes look extremely heavy.

"What's wrong?" she asks in a very hoarse voice, breaking into a big yawn after.

I meet her at the top. "Nothing's wrong," I say "everything's okay; just have to get something for this little guy."

Y/n's face softens and her lip curls, rubbing her thumb across our son's tear-stained cheek. "Let me take him." she says, beginning to scoop her arms underneath mine to grab him.

I take a step back and leave her with a confused expression. "It's okay," I reassure "go back to bed, you need to sleep."

"Timothée-"

"Get some rest mon amour." I whisper and kiss her cheek. She sighs and kisses our son's forehead; his cries beginning to quiet at the touch of his mother.

She deserves everything after carrying our son for nine months, delivering him and then having to take care of our family of four as much as I tell her she doesn't have to by herself.

I watch y/n walk away and back into our bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I walk into the nursery and grab the blanket out of the crib, taking a seat in the rocking chair.

The house goes quiet, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop now that the cries have stopped.

I rest my head against the back of the chair and close my eyes, rocking it back and forth. I could use quite a lot of rest right now too.

Padding footsteps on the stairs can be made out by my ears; they approach the nursery and stop right by the doorway. "Yes?"

There's a small gasp. "How did you know it was me?" I hear the frail voice ask.

I open my eyes and look toward the doorframe, not surprised to see my daughter. "Superpowers." I say, making her giggle. "Come here."

She walks in, standing just about a foot and half away from when she stops. "Closer."

She takes a single step, looking between me and her brother in my arms. "He's not going to bite you, you know? He doesn't have any teeth."

Her eyes peer down at the floor, staying quiet at my second joke. I get off the rocking chair and place y/s/n in the crib, letting him fall asleep there rather than in my arms for the moment.

I turn around and pick y/d/n up, sitting in the chair with her in my lap. "What's wrong?" I ask.

She rests her head on my chest. "I don't like him." she states.

"You don't like who?"

"Baby brother."

I'm not shocked by the statement. What only child likes the person who ripped the title away from them? Pauline hated me at first.

"Why?" I ask, acting dumbfounded.

"Because you and Mommy are always with him. Mommy doesn't sing with me anymore and you don't play barbie's with me." she confesses.

A bit of guilt starts to eat me up, I know things are different now that we have a newborn baby around; but I didn't think y/d/n would have such clear reasoning to dislike that and him.

"Well," I say "your baby brother is very little. He can't do things by himself, so your Mommy and I have to help him and always be around him."

"Why can't he learn how to do things by himself?" she asks with slight attitude. "I miss playing with you."

"I miss playing with you too." I agree. I'd spent all hours of the day sitting on the floor of her room; dressing up her barbie's in their ballgowns and acting out whatever storyline her imaginative mind came up with. "But y/s/n can't learn how to do everything you can do yet."

"Why?" she questions.

"Because he's still little. When he grows up, he'll learn and won't need your Mommy or me to help him with so much. Just like you did."

"Really?" she asks, lifting her head off of my chest. "Really." I nod. I kiss the side of her head and she learns upward, kissing my cheek.

"Can baby brother play barbie's with me when he's big like me then?"

"He'll do anything you want him to." That is quite possibly the biggest and most common perk that comes with being the older sibling.

She smiles, laying her head back on my chest. I take this moment to reflect on how easy life was to some degree before having another kid. 

I don't regret, but I do think I underestimated my ability to parent, not only one but two kids,  and stay sane at the same time.

A/N: not too sure abt this one. lmk what you all think in the comments?