timothée chalamet imagines

hit

timothée's pov

I was in the middle of the shower when I heard screaming from down the hall. I turned off the water and ran out with a towel around my waist.

The second I walked into our daughter's room, I knew something had happened. And it was bad.

Y/n looked over to me.

She had a tight grip around our son's wrist. Y/d/n was crying hysterically on her bed, holding her left cheek in her hand.

"Tell your father what you did!" y/n demanded.

"I didn't do anything!" he yelled.

I walked over to our son.

"What did you do?!" I yelled too, yanking on his arm, taking him away from y/n's grip.

"I said nothing!"

I looked over at y/d/n, she was still crying. Y/n was looking at her cheek.

It was really red and already started swelling.

"Did you hit her!?" I asked our son, he turned his head away from me. "Answer me!" I turned his face back to mine.

"Yes." he barely mumbled.

"Get your ass to your room ri-"

He shook out of my grip and started stomping away before I stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

"Do not walk away from me. And don't you EVER hit your sister EVER AGAIN."

I let him go and he ran back to his room. Pretty soon we heard his door slam shut.

"How is it?" I asked y/d/n, sitting next to her on her bed.

"It hurts daddy." she sniffled.

"We'll get some ice on it right now." I said.

"I'll go get an ice pack." y/n said.

I nodded and watched her walk out of the bedroom.

I touched the tip of my finger to y/d/n's cheek. She flinched and pushed my hand away, letting out a whimper of pain.

"I'm sorry."

She crawled over and sat on my lap, hugging me tightly.

Y/n came back with the ice pack, handing it to me. I took it and pressed it to y/d/n's cheek.

"Ow." she whined.

"It's okay, it's going to feel better soon."

Y/n sat next to me, leaning over to kiss the side of y/d/n's head.

We sat there together for about half an hour before giving y/d/n some medicine for the pain. It began to make her drowsy.

I laid her down, tucking her in. I gave her a kiss to the forehead.

Y/n and I went to our son's room to have a talk with him. He was laying in his bed, hidden under his blankets. We stood next to his bed.

"Y/s/n," y/n said "look at us."

He removed the blankets and looked up at us, disappointment covering his face.

"Why did you hit your sister?" I asked.

"She wouldn't stop touching me! I told her to stop!" he began raising his voice at us and became almost defensive.

"Watch yourself." y/n snapped.

"That isn't an excuse to do what you did. All you have to do is walk away from her or come talk to us." I said.

"We taught you better y/s/n. You never hit a girl." y/n said.

"I know," he began to cry again "I'm sorry."

I sat down on his bed and hinted y/n to leave.

"You shouldn't apologize to us, you should be apologize to your sister. I know you were angry, but hitting someone will never solve the issue."

"Is she okay?" he asked.

"She's fine, she's sleeping right now from the medicine she took for the pain. You can talk to her when she wakes up."

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Do you hate me?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, I don't hate you," I shook my head "I can never and will never hate you."

"But I hit y/d/n."

"That won't make me hate you. It happened once and you'll never do it again."

"I won't, I swear."

"Good." I said standing up.

"Does this mean I'm grounded?"

"Most definitely." I fluffed his hair and left his room, closing the door behind me.

this one's okay, I might delete it soon.