I knew you’d need them
Pairing: Juju Watkins x Reader
Fandom:Women’s College Basketball
Summary: she’s always one step ahead
🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom
I always start the night with the same lie to myself:
“I’ll be fine in these heels.”
Every time.
Without fail.
It’s not like I don’t know what’s coming.
Cause I do.
But the price of beauty is pain, and I… am a princess. And princesses don’t wear backup slides with their fit. They commit.
So when Juju knocks on my apartment door to pick me up, I answer it like I’m walking a red carpet.
Tight mini dress, flawless makeup, and six-inch stilettos that probably hate me as much as my pinky toes hate them.
I lean against the doorframe with a lazy smile and a slow twirl.
“Well?” I say, hand on my hip. “Say something before I start charging you for the view.”
She whistles low, already smirking. “You’re gonna kill somebody lookin’ like that.”
“Just you,” I tease, stepping out and locking the door behind me. “Where are we going again?”
“This rooftop thing Kai’s throwing,” Juju says, lacing her fingers with mine. “And then we’ll see.”
See. That’s code for “go wherever your pretty little heart wants.”
Because if I’m a princess, Juju is my knight in matte black Jordans and soft hoodies.
She’s quiet but steady, cool in every way I’m dramatic, and completely soft when it comes to me.
Which is why I don’t blink when I see she’s carrying a mini tote bag with her outfit. My eyes narrow, and I point.
“What’s in there?”
“Stuff,” she says casually. But there’s a twitch in her smirk. She knows me too well.
“Stuff like what?”
“Lip balm. Gum. Some lotion. Just stuff.”
“You brought lotion to a party?”
Juju shrugs like she didn’t just confirm she’s more prepared than the FEMA. “Your hands get ashy sometimes.”
I roll my eyes, but my smile is huge. “So I’m your high-maintenance girlfriend, huh?”
“Nah. You’re my princess girlfriend.”
She tugs me gently toward the car. “And princesses deserve full-service care.”
The rooftop is already alive by the time we get there. Fairy lights strung between beams, music pumping, drinks flowing.
Everyone’s dressed to the nines, but I know I’m a standout tonight because heads turn when we walk in—some to admire me, most because Juju looks like she belongs in a GQ spread and people still aren’t used to seeing her so publicly wrapped around me.
We mix, we dance, we laugh with friends. I make Juju pose for pictures even though she says she hates the camera.
But her hand never leaves my waist, and every time I lean in for a selfie, she smiles like she’s memorizing me instead of the lens.
By midnight, I’m floating. A little tipsy, a lot flirty, and still riding high off the compliments I’ve racked up like coins in a video game.
But then it hits.
Not the alcohol.
The ache.
First it’s a whisper behind my toes. Then it grows. An unmistakable throb, like my shoes are slowly strangling my feet.
I shift weight from one leg to the other. I try standing still. I try walking it off. Nothing helps. These heels are gorgeous—silver and sparkly and sky-high—but they are not designed for endurance.
And still, I don’t complain.
Because I’m stubborn. And a princess never breaks character.
Until Juju catches me wincing mid-step.
She gently tightens her arm around my waist. “Baby.”
“What?” I say, overly casual.
“Your face just yelled at me.”
“It did not.”
“It screamed.”
I give her the side-eye but can’t help the small pout forming. “Okay, maybe I’m a little uncomfortable.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I slow down, but the pain gets worse. By the time we’re walking toward the elevator, I’m gripping her arm like it’s a crutch and muttering curses under my breath.
Juju presses the elevator button and turns to me with that knowing look.
“Why don’t you ever bring flats?”
“Because,” I say dramatically, “I have standards. And flats don’t go with the vibe. Do you see this outfit?”
She looks me up and down, slow and appreciative. “Trust me. I see it.”
The elevator dings. We step in. I let out a deep breath once the doors close and finally sag a little, letting my full weight rest against her.
“My feet are staging a revolt,” I mumble.
“I know.”
The way she says it—like she was expecting this—makes me suspicious again. “Wait… what else did you bring in that tote?”
Juju just smiles, steps back, and crouches down right there in the elevator.
She unzips her bag, and with a magician’s flair, pulls out a pair of fuzzy black slides—my slides.
I blink. “Are those—? Juju!”
“I knew you’d need them.”
“You—” I gasp, stepping out of my heels the second the elevator doors open. Juju kneels and gently helps me slip my feet into the slides. It’s instant heaven. I let out a groan so dramatic a stranger down the hallway turns to look.
“I love you,” I sigh.
She rises with a proud little grin. “I know.”
“No, like, I love you. Like marry-you-tomorrow love you.”
“Let’s start with getting you to the car first.”
Walking through the parking garage feels like a different world now that my feet aren’t dying. I cling to Juju’s arm and exaggerate every step like I’ve just returned from war.
“Do you feel that?” I say, tapping my toes on the pavement. “That’s comfort. That’s peace. That’s love.”
Juju snorts. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Says the girl who brought my house shoes to a party because she knew I’d need them.”
“I’d do it again,” she says easily. “Every time.”
I stop walking, right there in the middle of the garage, and pull her to face me.
“I don’t deserve you.”
She cups my face, eyes soft. “No. You deserve all of this. Every last bit.”
My throat tightens. It always surprises me how someone as cool and composed as Juju can look at me like I hung the moon.
“You really think I’m a princess?” I whisper.
She leans down, brushing her lips against mine. “I think you’re my princess.”
“And what does that make you?”
She grins. “Your everything.”
Back at my place, I kick off the slides and collapse onto the couch like I just finished a marathon. Juju tosses me a makeup wipe and starts pulling the bobby pins from my hair with practiced fingers.
“Look at us,” I tease. “Domestic and cute.”
“You always say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I say that like I want it forever.”
Juju pauses, her hands still tangled in my hair. “Yeah?”
I tilt my head back to look at her upside down. “I’m serious. You can spoil me for the rest of my life if you want.”
“Deal,” she says, so quick it makes my heart skip. “As long as you promise not to pretend you can handle stilettos for more than three hours.”
“I make no such promise.”
“Of course not.”
When I finally peel off my dress and change into an oversized tee, Juju’s already in bed, scrolling her phone. I climb in beside her, tucking myself into her side.
“Thank you for bringing my slides,” I mumble against her shoulder.
“Always,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You might forget to pack flats, but I never forget to love you.”
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-Thank You For Reading!💚💙
-prettygirl-gabi✨️💗
