DISCLAIMER: Cheeky is not responsible for any swooning, fainting, blushing, screaming, giggling, obsessing, heart racing or shrieking with delight in response to this work of complete fan (non)fiction. Please keep your arms and legs inside the tandem bike at all times and enjoy the ride.
I lie in my room on a warm spring afternoon, my luscious locks cascading down the side of my bed. My life has been so boring since my Prince Charming left me, so I’m scrolling through edits of my new celeb crush, Timothée Chalamet. As I open the comments, something catches my eye. A Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest? At my very own Inglesnore High School?? I leap to my feet, throw my hair into the PERFECT messy bun, speed down Viking Way and parallel park across three spaces in the visitor lot. I dash clumsily into the courtyard, where I become simply overwhelmed by the sheer aura I behold. Wonkas here, Paul Atredes there, I’m in Chalamet heaven! I start to panic. There’s no way I’ll find my true Chala-bae in these scarf-clad crowds! I search high and low, my petite frame getting thrown around in the waves of sharp jawlines and curly hair, but alas, I cannot find my King in shining armor. Then, I feel it. His chocolatey caramel hazel gaze, boring straight into my soul. Flustered, I turn around and lock my gaze on…him. Mr. White Chocolate himself. The man, the myth, the legend. THE Timothée Chalamet. I feel my heart go Wonka. He cuts through the Dunes of Temu-thées to reach me, catching me just in time in his skinny yet toned arms.
“Bonjour,” he breathes. “Where have you been all my life?”
I feel myself turn tomato-cherry-beet-red 40-red under his smoldering gaze.
“W—waiting for you, my s—sugar plum,” I stammer.
His eyes sweep over my tousled appearance, and his breath hitches. His angular jaw clenches in barely concealed masculine fury at the state the Temu-thées put me in.
“Who did this to you??” he demands, placing a cool hand on my flushed cheek.
Before I can respond, I am drawn out of our romantic moment by the sudden hush and jealous whispers surrounding us.
“Is that… The Lisan Al-Gaib??”
“Woah! Is that his new bae?”
“Who is that with Timothée?! They’re so quirky yet relatable!”
“I can’t believe they found the true Timmy.”
I bury my face into his chest because, alas, I am shy! I’m not made for the spotlight, but his chocolatey musk comforts me and imbues me with the strength to declare, “T—that’s right! I’m his, and he’s mine, forever and ever until the end of spacetime.”
His gaze snaps back onto mine.
“Really? You mean it?” he implores.
“I—I do, I REALLY do. I’ll be your Jo March,” I reply without hesitation, returning his gaze.
As if fueled by spice, he suddenly yanks my arm and pull sme through the crowd of Temu-thées. He is entranced by my ginormous, sparkling purple eyes that plead for a moment alone with him.
Practically dragging me, he leads me to his parked tandem bike, which I narrowly missed when parallel parking.
“Hop on, my starshine,” he commands, patting the fine leather seat and handing me the spare helmet like a true gentleman. I giggle at his affectionate nickname, blushing again at his environmentally friendly choice of transportation.
“Let’s not ruin that pretty face,” he says, sending butterflies into the pit of my stomach.
I giggle again and reach across to twirl his fluffy, soil-colored waves of hair as he pedals us to the set of his current movie (redacted) ((TOP SECRET)).
He clasps my hand, pulling me off of his reasonably priced, eco-friendly bicycle and into his trailer. He slams the door behind me.
“T—Timmy! What are you d—doing?” I implore, almost shaking with nerves.
“Hold on to your socks starshine, it’s about to get real willy and wonky in here,” he warns mischievously.
He then sinks to one knee and pulls a handful of warm chocolate from his pocket, placing it into my trembling hand.
“(Y/N), this chocolate is the second sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. We’re two cocoa beans in a pod,” he whispers.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening.
“My stud muffin, I love you with all my being; Bones and All. I want to get married as soon as possible. I need us to be official, so I can post this on my Instagram highlights” I blurt.
His eyes darken and his nostrils flare in an affectionate manner. Without another word, he somersaults out the window and pulls me through behind him. He then dives down and presses his ear to the ground, winking while he does so. I blush again while he drums the sand with his fist and grabs two hooks out of his back pocket.
“Hold on to me, sweet cheeks!” he yells as a massive sandworm erupts from the ground. He digs his hooks into the sandworm as it towers above us. Its speed yanks us off the ground and I let out a surprised yelp. Timmy skillfully maneuvers us onto its back, then wraps his arms around me.
“W—wow,” I stammer. “You are just s—so strong!”
I sigh as I lean back on my new perfect man and admire the perfect sunset. Timmy masterfully steers the sandworm towards the horizon, flying over a field of Oompa-Loompas. As we drift closer, the sound of angelic singing fills the air. His Oompa Loompas romantically serenade us with Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind.” As I take in the view, I glimpse rivers of chocolate and gumdrop toadstools ahead. The sand shimmers beneath us and faraway lollipop trees swing in the breeze. Life is truly perfect with a bit of sweetness, spice and Chalamet paradise.
