#wooooohoooo

———

Sleeping with Ellie is…interesting.

She’s a human starfish, also a human furnace. Yet, also a human ice cube? Her favorite pastime is pressing the bare soles of her freezing cold feet onto your legs and she vehemently refuses to move them off because “you’re so warm, baby!” Another favorite of hers is angrily ripping the covers away from her body in a sweaty, sleep-induced rage, then proceeding to curse you out for stealing all of the covers.

“Babe. Give me the fucking blanket. You’re a hoarder!” She moans and groans all night. She talks in her sleep. And, to top it all off, she is a stage five clinger.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sun tries its best to slip through Ellie’s blackout curtains, to no avail. Family Guy on the tv provides the only sliver of light throughout her overtly messy room, aside from the singular strand of almost burnt-out string lights. ‘For the ambiance’ she tells you.

Ellie is wrapped happily around you while she sleeps. One of her legs is bent and pressed in between your thighs and her arm is folded and shoved under your head, bent at the wrist to tangle her fingers in your hair. Her other arm somehow made its way under your shirt as she slept, hand cupping your breast. She’s pressed so tightly to your back that your breathing easily melds with hers, pert nipples pressing harshly into your back; The feeling has you grinding down onto Ellie’s thigh.

She stirs for a moment, tugging on your hair and squeezing at your breast, “stop fuckin’ moving.”

Oh, yeah. Ellie is also not a morning person.

You hum happily and turn around in her arms, she opens her eyes and immediately rolls them, letting out the loudest, most obnoxious groan you’ve ever heard in your life. Her hands resituate themselves, one moving to squeeze your ass between her fingers, the other bending around your neck and pulling you into her.

“Good morning my Ellie Bellie!” She rolls her eyes again.

“No. Too fucking early. Will you pass me that joint behind you?” She points to the bedside table behind you and nods her head in the general direction.

Your body contorts in her arms to be able to reach the joint and for someone who literally asked you to get it for her, she’s awfully pissed off that you had the audacity to move from her grasp. When your fingers wrap around the rolled paper and, conveniently, the lighter sitting next to it, she yanks you back into her chest and smacks a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Here, baby.” Ellie grabs the joint from your grasp, and, for a moment, you think she’s going to light it for herself. Wrong! She holds it between two fingers and presses it to your lips, “for the Princess.”

Like always, she lights it for you and holds it while you inhale, “hang on, wait—“

She grips your chin between her long fingers and pulls your face toward hers, “—sharing is caring.”

You inhale the smoke fully before moving your lips to ghost over hers, exhaling the smoke into her mouth. Ellie maintains eye contact while she sucks in the smoke, breaking it only to turn her head and blow the smoke off to the side, “thanks, baby.”

Fuck, that was hot. Like, really hot.

And, again, the joint is being held to your lips. Inhale, exhale, Ellie’s turn.

You’ve moved to sit in between her bent legs, facing her while resting your cheek against her knee. She’s intently watching the episode of Family Guy playing behind you, the joint is hanging from her parted lips and you admire her for a moment. Her eyes widen suddenly and she sucks in a gasp—immediately choking on the smoke she was supposed to be inhaling.

“Jesus—babe! Let it out.” Your hand roughly pats her on the back while she continues to cough out smoke, her eyes still glued to the tv.

The coughing fit lasts a few minutes before she’s standing up with a force so strong you’re immediately knocked over on the bed. She quickly strides to stand beside the tv, her eyes are wild and her eyebrows are almost touching her hairline. Lips parted, she’s panting while pointing to the tv.

“Look at it. LOOK. At it.” She’s making wild pointing gestures to the scene playing on the tv and you’re extremely confused,

“Ellie…what have we been smoking. Are you okay? Are you on something?” She scoffs immediately.

“Babe! Look at the fucking tv! Aquarium! Edibles! You! Me! We!”

“Actually, that’s Lois and Peter.” Another scoff, followed by what could be the largest, most dramatic eye roll you’ve ever seen.

She drops her hands to her sides and gives you an are-you-fucking-kidding-me-right-now look, “well. It should be us. It could be us! Today!”

Ellie holds both of her hands up in a ‘stop’ motion and gestures for you to wait right where you are. She quickly runs out of her bedroom —you are suddenly very, very grateful that she has no roommates because where are her pants?— and runs down the short hallway leading to her living room. Just as fast as she leaves, she returns. A plastic bag is gripped in one of her hands, it’s full of brownies.

“These. Aquarium.” The bag is flown, full force, at your head and she laughs when it bounces from your forehead onto the duvet.

“You are, like, way too excited over this. What happens when you’re tripping balls and boom there’s a shark? What then? Because I’d be pissing my pants.” She clambers onto the bed and quickly straddles you, holding your face in her hands.

“Babe. Baby. Please. Pretty please! I swear to fucking god I’ll protect you from the shark. From all the sharks, ever.” Alright, it’s official. There’s no way to win an argument against Ellie Williams because the minute she pulls those goddamn puppy-dog eyes it’s over. She’s won immediately.

“Oh, fine. Gimme the fuckin’ brownie.” She smiles like a kid in a candy shop and drags your face to hers, pressing wet and sloppy kisses anywhere she can reach. Her fingers are digging into your cheeks and she annunciates each kiss with a ‘mwah’ sound before moving on to press a different kiss in a new location. You’re giggling before you know it, the annoyance of being smacked in the face with a packet of brownies at 9:37am immediately dissipates with each kiss.

She crawls out of your lap and presses a final kiss to your forehead, “get dressed, mamacita! It’s trippin’ time.”

You cringe, “mamacita? Trippin time? Who are you and what have you done with Ellie?”

“Oh, for fucks sake. You are hard to please, woman.” Her rant is followed by the twentieth eye roll of the morning. How can someone be so chock-full of sass this early in the morning?

She bounces over to her closet and rips the folding doors open, “hm. What to wear.”

Her fingers take over the several options in her closet before landing on a gray sweatshirt, then a pair of baggy blue jeans. She pulls them both on before turning back to face you. Nothing has changed. You’re still wearing her flannel from the day before and your underwear—and you’re still cuddled up in bed! Under the covers, too!

“Get your lazy ass up! The clock is ticking, babe! Aquarium time!” It’s your turn for an eye roll. You move to sit on the edge of the bed and take a glance toward Ellie’s open closet.

“Pass me a flannel? Please?”

“Anything for the Princess.” She rips a random blue one off of its hanger and gets on one knee in front of you, bowing while she holds out the raggedy clump of clothing.

“Ah, why thank you, my kind jester.”

Her head whips up immediately, “jester?! I’m a fucking jester to you? Rude.”

You’re both giggling while she unbuttons your current top, slipping it off of your arms.

“Oh—and can I borrow one of your tank tops, too? A white one, it’ll match better.”

She smiles and shakes her head, “stealing my entire closet, are you?”

A white wife beater is fished out of her drawer and she motions for you to lift your arms, slipping the tank top onto your body. She adjusts the fabric over your chest and pauses when she notices your nipples poking through the fabric, “you’re so fucking hot.”

Her thumbs brush over both of your nipples and you shiver, “free the nip and all, but put this on. I’d like to keep those nipples to myself, thank you very much.”

She grabs the new flannel and drags it up your arms, buttoning a few of the buttons in the middle and letting one side of the shirt slouch down your shoulder, perfect for pressing stray kisses. Her hands grab yours and she quickly pulls you to stand up in front of her, “pants time!”

Your jeans are crumbled in the corner of her room and she swiftly retrieves them before skipping back over to you. She squats down and taps your thigh, signaling you to lift your leg and slide it down into the jeans she’s holding open for you. While squatting, she drags the pants up your legs and presses a sweet kiss below your navel before she zips and buttons your jeans.

She takes a step back, “ah! Look at that pretty girl!”

You blush and turn your face away from her, “quit it.”

———

There is no time to slip your shoes on before Ellie is dragging you out of her front door and into her car. Both of your converse piled on the floor of the passenger side, waiting to be put on in the aquarium parking lot.

If there’s one thing anyone should know about Ellie Williams, it’s that she can’t drive for shit.

She’s much more focused on having her hand on your thigh, running up and down the length of it. Her other hand often leaves the steering wheel to change the song playing, which forces you to lean across her body to steer for her. She hits curbs. She slams on the breaks (and, yes. She does the soccer-mom arm thing. Knocks the wind out of you every single time.) She has the most intense yet hilarious case of road rage.

“Fucking asshole! He just cut me off! Did you fucking see that, babe?!” She’s gesturing wildly at the car in front of her and you’d be lying if you said watching her get fired up like this didn’t make you the slightest bit horny.

“I saw, babe. That guy’s an asshole.”

She nods, “dickhead. Massive, huge, big-fat-dickhead.”

Road rage looks good on her.

She can’t park for shit either. You’re sure the people next to her will leave some rude note about how she should go back to driving school or burn her license.

Her car is almost completely out of the lines and she doesn’t bother to check or back up to fix it, she simply unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over the center console to unbuckle yours as well.

“A brownie for you, malady.” She holds the bag open and passes it over to you, “should we split one?”

She nods, “yeah, probably a good idea.”

You rip the brownie in two and pass her half, “well. Here we go.”

————

It’s embarrassing when you realize you’re the annoying amusement-park-line-couple that everyone on the internet shits on for being clingy and PDA obsessed. You’re walking inside the aquarium, one hand holding Ellie’s, the other arm reaches across your body to hold onto her (rather toned) bicep. She constantly leans her head down to press a kiss to your forehead and at one point you watched a small child pinch up his face and make a gagging sound.

“Fucking kids, man. That’s shark bait, right there.”

You bark out a laugh and grip her arm, “Ellie Williams!”

She laughs in response and drags you in the direction of the aquarium tunnel, “this is gonna be so sick, babe. I can feel it.”

It’s a long, long tunnel running under a massive fish tank. Would you even call it a fish tank? There’s way more than just fish. Sharks, stingrays, crabs, is that a mermaid? Oh, you are so high.

“Ellie. Babe.” You’re turning to face her and tugging on her arm like a child. She’s completely enthralled in the exhibit surrounding her: jaw dropped open, eyes blown wide.

You tug on her hand again, “baby.”

She blinks a few times and turns to you, “woah.”

Honestly, you forgot what you were going to say to her. You drop her hand and walk over to the glass, pressing your palms onto it and staring into the water before you.

“Oh my god. I’m so gonna break you guys out of here.” Ellie frowns at the loss of contact and moves to stand next to you. She pauses for a moment before pressing her face into the glass. Her nose is pressed so far into the exhibit that it bends and folds into her face,

“We’re gonna fucking break you all out. Oh my god. Jailbreak. Babe, I’m like…I’m like fucking AquaMan.” She removes her face and turns to face you, eyes glazed over and droopy. The glass beside her is smudged and you can clearly see the imprint of her face on it.

You remove your hands from the exhibit and turn to face her, “you good?”

“I’m so fucking good—holy shit!” A squeak leaves her lips and she immediately surges forward to grab you as a massive shadow passes overhead. You look upward and cower into her arms when you spot an absolutely huge, scratch that, gargantuan, mantaray passes overhead. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Babe…can we go to the penguin exhibit instead?”

Ellie nods immediately and drags you out from the tunnel.

———

The penguins are much more entertaining and much less terrifying than those fucking sharks and whatever else was in that tank. You and Ellie sit side-by-side happily in front of the penguin exhibit, her shoulder is pressed into yours and her hand rests on your knee.

“This is much less terrifying.” You nod.

“I actually think I did pee myself a little bit.” Ellie nods back and responds, “me too, if I’m being honest.”

She leans her head on your shoulder, “you peed your pants? You said you were gonna protect me from the sharks. You can’t do that if you’re pissing yourself too!”

You rest your head on top of hers and she scoffs at your outburst, “I can fight and piss myself at the same time. It’s called multitasking.”

“I might be really fucking high right now but I also think that I am in love with you.” The words tumble from your lips and in any other situation you would slap the absolute shit out of yourself for confessing your love on the first date, but in this moment, right here, it was the only thing on your mind.

Without moving or looking up, Ellie responds, “I’ve been in love with you since you made a breaking bad joke about your old dealer. I wasn’t lying when I told you I couldn’t sell anymore ‘cos I’d fall in love, yanno.”

What a strange way to confess your love, you think. Here you are, with your plug-turned-girlfriend, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor of an aquarium, high out of your fucking mind, watching a couple juvenile penguins get their daily fish treat. It’s perfect.

Ellie finally moves her head to look at you, she smiles softly and leans forward to press her lips to yours. It’s a sweet kiss, sweeter than any candy you could ever try, and sweeter than those god awful pot brownies you shared earlier. Her nose squishes into yours when she attempts to deepen the kiss and you giggle into her mouth. Your eyes are half open and you can’t focus fully on the kiss when you catch a glimpse of the penguins behind Ellie. Now… wait a minute.

Did that penguin just fucking wave at you? You swear to god it fucking waved.

You pull back from Ellie and gawk at the penguin looming over her shoulder, behind the glass.

“Ellie, I swear to fucking god that penguin just fucking waved at me.”

She is in shambles immediately, laughing so hard that she’s clutching her stomach and gasping for air. Salty tears slide down her freckled cheeks and she slaps your knee over and over while she tries to calm herself down.

Her fingers scrub at her cheeks while she tries to wipe the tears away, “alright. Time to go home.”