timothée chalamet requests

☾ request six

timothée's pov

"Are you ready to go, chérie?" I asked, shoving my wallet into my back pocket.

"Yes." y/n and y/d/n replied simultaneously, they looked at each other and giggled.

I smiled and grabbed the car seat's handle.

"Let's go."

Y/n opened the door and our seven year old daughter ran right outside. We got to the car and I strapped in the car seat, which rested our eight month old son inside.

Our daughter ran around to the opposite side of the car, hopping into her own car seat. Y/n went over to made sure she was strapped in securely.

"All good?" I asked and y/n nodded.

I closed the door and got into the driver's seat, y/n sitting passenger . "It's the park on 87th right?" I asked, turning the car on.

"Yeah." she nodded.

"Alright." I said, backing out of our driveway.

On our way to the park, music played on the radio. Y/n hummed along and our daughter was saying God knows what to our sleeping son - she loves to converse with him.

When we made it to the park's parking lot, y/n had to hold our daughter extremely close to her by the hand as I took our son out of the car and put him into the stroller.

Y/d/n has a habit of running toward any park she can get sight of, regardless of anything that's surrounding her; be that moving cars or walking people, she will get to that park. 

Once we all made it safely to the park, our daughter ran off to the playground as y/n and I sat on the bench to watch her.

Somehow, someway, our son peacefully stayed asleep in his stroller despite all the noise coming from the screaming kids and scolding parents.

Fourty-five minutes later...

Y/n bounced our son in her arms, he's shrieking.

She looked at me hopeless, he's been crying for almost ten minutes.

I looked back at our daughter and wiped the tears from her eyes. She wiped them with her shirt afterward and her lip quivered. "It burns."

Our son began his cry-fest after y/d/n came running toward us, clinging onto her knee and screaming bloody murder.

She'd fallen off the monkey bars and down into the wood chips, scraping her knee. The injury is definitely not life-threatening, but of course it seems like it is to a kid.

Nonetheless, I took a water bottle and washed away the stuck wood chips and few spots of dirt for her.

"You're okay, you'll be okay." I kissed her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around my neck tightly and I stood up, resting her in my hip. Y/s/n had just settled down a bit.

"Let's walk around a bit." I said and y/n nodded, putting our son into the car seat.

The good thing about this park is that it not only has a playground, but many paths for people to take strolls on.

With y/d/n on my hip, our son in his stroller, and my love to the right of me, we went down one of the many said paths.

Y/n peeked over to look at our daughter's face, her head was laying on my shoulder.

"She's asleep." y/n said.

"Good." I sighed.

"Why are kids so dramatic?" she asks.

"You mean, why is your kid so dramatic?" I gave her the side-eye.

"My kid?" she laughs. "If the kid's dramatic, they're  definitely yours; you are the actor after all." she smiled.

"Right." I laugh.

We continue walking, watching our son try to fight to keep his eyes open. But he gives up the fight when I get yelled at into my ear. "Daddy! Dad-" I cover my daughter's mouth.

Our son's lip quivers and it looks like he's about to cry again. "Aww, it's okay." y/n puts on her baby voice and touches his cheek. And he calms down, surprisingly.

"Don't yell." I say and take my hand off our daughter's mouth.

"Ice cream." she whispers and I look ahead.

There's a man in an ice cream truck at the end of the path that finishes off at the street. "Do you want some?" I ask y/n and she shakes her head.

"Do you want some?" I ask our daughter.

"Yes!" she exclaims.

"Alright." I say and begin walking faster down the path. But the ice cream man finishes up with his last customer quickly.

"He's leaving!" my daughter yells.

"Shit." I mumble and start running, still with her hanging onto me. "Wait!" I yell loudly and begin waving my free hand.

The man waves his hand as well and nods as I continue racing toward him.

"What can I get for you?" the ice cream man asks, standing in the window.

"Two..(your favorite ice cream,)" I say "and whatever this one'll have." I look at my daughter.

"Oreo sandwich, please." she says.

"Two (your favorite ice cream) and an Oreo sandwich," the ice cream man repeats "coming right up." he smiles.

I reach into my pocket for my wallet and he sets the ice creams down on the counter, my daughter gladly takes them. "$7.20." he says.

I pull out a ten dollar bill and hand it to him.

"Keep the change." I say.

"Thank you." he smiles.

"What do we say y/d/n?"

"Thank you for the ice cream." she says shyly.

"You're very welcome," the man smiles. "have a good one."

"Thank you, you too." I say and he drives off. I set my daughter down on the sidewalk. "You're going to have to walk from now on, chérie." I say.

She hands me the two ice creams and keeps her own. She holds my hand and says "okay."

We walk back down the path and get to y/n and our son on yet another bench. Our daughter sits on one side of y/n and I are on the other.

"I got you something anyway." I say to y/n and hand her one of the ice creams.

She smiles. "I was kind of hoping you would."