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fuddaround · 2 months ago

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CLINGY › juju watkins x fem!reader

summary : while hanging out with juju’s team she becomes extra clingy and doesn’t know how to not be touching you.

warnings : literally just fluff

word count : 4.2k

req

kay’s notes : i miss her💔 im sorry this took so long 🙁

juju’s been cleaning since noon.

playlist blasting, mop in one hand, swiffer in the other like she’s going to war with dust bunnies.

your hoodie’s drowning her frame, sleeves covering her hands as she moves around the apartment like it’s the day before an away game day.

she keeps tugging it over her fingers, lifting it to sniff the collar every so often like she’s trying to inhale you straight into her lungs.

her hair’s pulled back into her usual bun, curls bouncing as she bops around the kitchen.

she sways side to side while wiping down the counters, humming to the beat, all domestic and in her bubble.

every five minutes she pauses to glance at her phone, checking the time. then your name. then the groupchat.

the girls are supposed to come by around seven, and juju’s acting like lebron is coming over. she fluffed the couch pillows four times already and threatened to fight deuce any time he gets too close to them.

she set out snacks in bowls like a mom hosting book club. hot cheetos, gummy worms, fruit roll-ups, and those little frosted animal cookies you like.

you called her “extra” last night and she deadass took it as a compliment, “it’s not being extra if you love people,” she said, all smug.

and she does love you.

loudly. proudly.

especially today.

she tugs the sleeves of your hoodie over her hands again and exhales, standing in the middle of the living room like she’s about to present a thesis.

everything looks perfect. but something’s missing.

you.

so she grabs her phone, scrolls to your name, and sends three messages back to back.

then she flops onto the couch dramatically, hoodie sleeves covering her face. she’s not moving again until she hears a knock on the door.

the first knock on the door comes around 6:48.

juju pretends she doesn’t hear it, still curled into a dramatic pile of hoodie and couch. but then another knock, this time followed by rian’s voice—loud, dramatic, already clowning from the hallway.

“damn, y’all see how she ignoring us already? new era juju.”

juju rolls her eyes but drags herself up, hoodie still half over her face like a gremlin. she opens the door with one hand and a sigh, stepping aside so they can all pour in.

rian’s first through the door, grinning like she owns the place.

kayleigh and brooklyn follow right after, all giggles and inside jokes.

and then there’s otto—last as always, hoodie halfway off her shoulder, eyes already on juju like she’s reading a diary.

“finally,” rian groans, flopping onto the couch like she pays rent. “i was about to file a missing persons report.”

“you knocked for like five seconds,” juju mutters, kicking the door shut behind them.

“five seconds too long,” kayleigh says, grabbing a capri sun from the snack table juju spent an hour arranging. “ooh, you got the wild cherry ones. aw you really know me.”

juju shrugs. “figured y’all would drink them like usual.”

“figured your girl would be here by now,” rian says with a smirk, pulling a throw pillow into her lap.

juju’s entire face twitches. blink and you’ll miss it, but otto doesn’t blink.

she watches juju like a hawk. like a best friend who knows every tiny tell. like someone who’s seen her spend ten minutes trying to pick a message to send you, only to delete it and just say “hey :)” instead.

“she’s on the way,” juju says, trying to sound chill. like she wasn’t literally sprawled on the floor ten minutes ago texting “u okay?” for the third time.

brooklyn raises a brow. “so why you wearing her hoodie then?”

“i was cold?”

“you got heat. we all know you keep it on 75 like a grandma.”

juju glares but says nothing. she just tightens the sleeves over her hands again and tries to act normal.

she plops down on the floor, back against the couch, one knee bouncing.

the girls are already making themselves at home—snacking, flipping through the streaming apps, arguing over which movie to put on.

“nothing scary,” kayleigh says. “i’m not tryna pee myself in juju’s living room.”

“no romance either,” rian adds with a look directly at juju. “some of us are single and unbothered. we don’t need to see y’all staring into each other’s souls.”

juju throws a gummy worm at her. “you’re so annoying.”

“and you’re in love,” rian sings, catching the worm and popping it in her mouth. “look at you, all squirmy and shit.”

“i’m not squirmy,” juju lies. total lie. she’s practically vibrating.

otto climbs over the couch and lands next to her with a soft thud, her body warm against juju’s side. she doesn’t say anything at first, just rests her chin on juju’s shoulder.

“you good?” she murmurs, quiet enough for only juju to hear.

juju leans into her. “yeah. i just…”

“you miss her.”

juju nods.

otto smiles. “she’s literally ten minutes away.”

“ten minutes is a long time when you’re in love and dramatic,” juju whispers back.

“we know”

the opening credits to white chicks start playing and everyone cheers like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen it. brooklyn’s already quoting the lines before the characters even speak while kayleigh’s already halfway through her second capri sun.

juju tries to join in. she laughs when she’s supposed to. throws jabs back when rian teases her again. but india’s watching the whole time, clocking every time juju glances at the door.

“what if she changed her mind?” juju mumbles during the part where the twins first show up in disguise.

otto gives her a look. “be serious.”

juju shrugs, arms folded tight across your hoodie. “i’m just saying…”

“you’re not saying anything real right now.”

juju pouts. “okay therapist.”

“well no, just your best friend who watched you fall in love when you call yourself nonchalant.”

she says it so casually that juju actually stops breathing for a second. because it really was kind of like that. like a highlight reel that india studied. like every time you smiled at her, the world paused for just a beat too long.

“you’re in it deep,” otto adds, bumping her shoulder against juju’s. “like deep deep. like, if-she-broke-up-with-you-you’d-move-to-the-woods deep.”

juju laughs, loud and sharp. “no, i’d just cry for like a year.”

“same thing.”

“whatever.”

“you wore her hoodie, ju.”

“i like it.”

“you sniffed it earlier.”

“mind your business.”

“you sniffed it, juju. like a love-sick golden retriever who was left at home.”

juju groans and drops her head into otto’s lap, mumbling curses into the fabric. otto just laughs and pets her hair.

“i think it’s sweet,” kayleigh calls out from across the room.

“yeah me too,” brooklyn says. “let the girl be in love.”

“oh, she in it,” rian grins, pointing at juju’s curled-up form. “she’s literally the most clingy person when her girl comes into play.”

“i’m not clingy,” juju protests weakly, face still buried in otto’s hoodie.

“girl, you asked me if your breath smelled good before she came over,” otto says.

juju lifts her head. “because gum doesn’t always work—”

“you bought three candles just ‘cause she said she liked the vanilla one.”

“it’s called setting the tone—”

“you shaved your legs. and you’re wearing sweatpants.”

“you’re a traitor.”

“i’m your best friend.”

the girls are all cracking up now, the whole room filled with laughter and warm energy and the smell of popcorn and gummy candy.

but juju’s face is pink and her eyes keep darting to the door again.

it’s 7:06. you’re not even that late. but to juju, every minute feels like forever.

so she grabs her phone again, types out a text. stares at it. deletes it. types it again.

otto sees it from the side and gently takes the phone out of her hand, “she’s coming,” she says softly. “you know she is.”

juju nods, chewing her lip. then she hears it.

another knock.

and this time, she doesn’t play it cool.

doesn’t wait. doesn’t even try to act like she’s not absolutely losing it inside.

she shoots up off the floor like someone lit a fire under her and bolts for the door, almost tripping over rian’s leg.

the girls break into a fit behind her.

“there she goes!”

“run, juju, run!”

“act normal, damn!”

“she’s already smiling, look at her—damn simp.”

juju’s smiling so wide it hurts and she hasn’t even opened the door yet.

juju yanks the door open like she’s been held underwater and finally got to breathe.

and there you are.

standing in her doorway all soft and glowing, skin still dewy, hair slicked back, hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the bracelets she made you. you smell like vanilla and coconut and whatever body wash you stole out of juju’s shower.

juju freezes for a second.

her brain bluescreens.

then—

“hi, baby,” you say, all gentle and sweet like you’re saying a prayer instead of a greeting.

juju practically melts. she’s on you before you can even take a full step in, arms around your waist, nose buried in your neck like she’s trying to disappear into your skin.

“you’re late,” she mumbles, voice muffled.

“was doin’ an everything shower,” you say, rubbing her back. “you know the drill. shaved, exfoliated, deep conditioned, the whole routine.”

“took you eighty-five years,” she pouts, tightening her grip.

“took me two hours.”

“that’s eighty-five juju years.”

you laugh and kiss the top of her head, and that’s when the peanut gallery from the living room loses their minds.

“there she is, finally.”

“miss exfoliated and moisturized for ju.”

“thank you for showing up, juju needs her emotional support girlfriend. she was spiraling without you.”

juju turns her head but doesn’t move from your chest. she’s still wrapped around you like a backpack.

“don’t listen to them,” she grumbles.

“they’re not wrong,” otto calls out, not even looking up from the couch. “she made me check her breath like five times.”

you giggle and run your fingers up and down on juju’s back.

“my dramatic little baby,” you coo, rocking her side to side.

“don’t call me that in front of them,” she mumbles—but she’s nuzzling you now. completely unbothered.

“what? ‘my dramatic little baby’?” you repeat, louder.

the girls explode.

brooklyn wheezes into a throw pillow, kayleigh’s about to cry laughing, rian’s recording on her phone, and otto’s just shaking her head with the most told you so expression known to man.

juju groans into your neck. “i hate everybody.”

you kiss her cheek. “no you don’t.”

“fine. i hate everybody except you.”

“better.”

she finally lets you go just enough to pull you into the apartment, shutting the door with one hand while still clinging to you like you might vanish. you barely make it three steps before she pulls you right back into her arms.

“i missed you,” she whispers.

“i missed you more,” you say, brushing your nose against hers.

she scrunches her face and shakes her head, “not possible.”

“yes possible.”

“no one in the world has missed another person as hard as i missed you in the last hour.”

“you’re so dramatic baby.”

“you literally made me like this.”

the girls are still watching, still commenting, but juju’s tuned them all out now. it’s just you. your face. your hands on her waist. your lips brushing against hers in the tiniest, sweetest hello.

you tilt your head. “can i go sit down or you gonna keep me hostage right here?”

“you’re mine. i’m keeping you.”

“forever?”

“duh.”

you laugh and tap her nose. “c’mon, clingy girl. let’s go.”

you both walk over to the couch, hand in hand, and juju plops down first before immediately tugging you into her lap. she wraps her arms around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you not even gonna say hi to us?” rian teases.

“hi rian,” you call without looking away from juju. “love the bun.”

“i do look cute today, thank you.”

juju buries her face in your neck again. “you smell so good.”

“i told you. everything shower. that exfoliating glove did work.”

“mmm. gonna use it next time i’m over.”

“baby, you already got a toothbrush, bonnet, pairs of socks at my place, and so many outfits. at this point, just bring another drawer.”

“say less.”

brooklyn fake-gags from the other couch cushion. “they’re so in love it’s sickening.”

“like a romcom but with jump shots,” kayleigh adds.

“like a romcom where the main character almost cried ‘cause her girl was ten minutes late,” otto corrects.

juju flips her off without even lifting her head. “snitches get stitches.”

“i’m just saying,” otto shrugs. “you were about thirty seconds away from throwing on sade and staring out the window.”

you giggle and kiss juju’s temple, “don’t worry, baby. i’ll set a timer next time. i’ll exfoliate faster.”

“nah,” juju mumbles. “take your time. just start earlier.”

“you could’ve joined me,” you say with a soft smirk.

her whole face lifts up from your neck. “say less.”

the team collectively groans in unison.

“keep it PG!” rian yells.

“we’re literally watching white chicks, not euphoria,” kayleigh chimes in.

you laugh and press your forehead to juju’s. she looks at you like you hung the moon. like you invented air. like she’s never gonna stop staring.

“you good now?” you whisper.

“better than good,” she whispers back. “i’m yours again.”

“you’re always mine.”

“yeah but now i can see you.”

you brush your thumb over her cheek and smile, “love you.”

she exhales, so soft you barely hear it, “love you more.”

“not possible.”

“don’t start this again.”

you giggle, kiss her, and she just melts right there on the couch, arms wrapped tight around your waist, hoodie sleeves pushed up, legs tangled with yours like she’s trying to fuse you together.

“we still watching this movie?” brooklyn asks.

“yeah,” otto answers. “juju’s too busy cuddling to care, but the rest of us are watching.”

you and juju settle in as the scene picks up again, her fingers tracing little circles into your side.

she keeps whispering things in your ear—soft, silly things like “you’re so pretty” and “i’m never letting you go” and “please never exfoliate without me again.”

the girls keep teasing, but it fades into background noise. the lights are low, the snacks are half-eaten, and juju’s heartbeat is slow and steady against you.

and she’s smiling again. because you’re here. finally.

and for juju, that’s all it ever takes to feel whole.

the room is quiet except for tangled playing softly in the background. lanterns floating on screen, rapunzel swaying in flynn’s arms. the scene’s all golden light and soft music.

the floor’s a mess of limbs and blankets.

rian is fast asleep beside the couch, her hand loosely tangled with yours. she must’ve grabbed it mid-yawn or mid-laugh, but now her fingers are laced through yours like she paid rent to be there.

juju notices before you do.

and she’s not having it.

you feel her shift in your lap—just the tiniest squirm—and then hear her quiet, raspy voice, “um why is she holding your hand.”

you blink. “what?”

“rian.” she whispers, eyes still mostly closed, curls smushed into your hoodie. “she’s holding your hand. what is going on.”

you smile down at her, brushing her hair back from her face, “she just knocked out like that, baby. we were talking. she must’ve grabbed it on the way to dreamland.”

juju makes a noise. somewhere between a scoff and a pout. deuce lifts his head slightly, then settles again, unimpressed.

“do you want me to move my hand?”

juju doesn’t answer right away. she just tightens her arms around your waist and nuzzles further into your chest.

“ yes,” she mumbles finally.

you laugh, real soft, and carefully slide your hand free from rian’s without waking her.

you turn and rest it back on juju’s back, rubbing slow circles over her hoodie.

“better?”

“mhm.”

“you know you’re insane, right?”

“you love it,” she mumbles, kissing your collarbone.

“you’re just being so dramatic right now.”

“i’m not dramatic. i’m territorial.”

“oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

juju pulls back slightly so she can look up at you. her eyes are heavy, half-closed, but still sharp enough to give you a full baby-faced glare.

“you’re mine,” she whispers, lips brushing your chin. “not rian’s. not anyone else’s. mine.”

“always yours,” you whisper right back.

“so if anyone’s holding your hand while you’re watching disney movies, it better be me.”a

“yes ma’am.”

she smirks. “there we go.”

you snort and lean in, kissing her softly—barely a brush of lips, more air than anything, but she exhales like it fed her soul.

deuce lets out a little huff and shifts in juju’s arms. he’s perfectly squished between you two, warm and content and possibly more spoiled than both of you combined.

“he’s such a traitor,” juju mumbles, petting his ears. “he was mine first.”

“you said that about me five minutes ago.”

“because it’s true. i had you both first. now you’re bffs without me.”

“you’re literally in my lap.”

“and he’s in my arms. i just want everyone to know whose we are.”

you giggle and kiss her temple, “you’re so clingy right now and make no sense.”

“do you want me to be quiet?”

“no, i love you like this.”

she grins sleepily, “you baby me so good.”

“you make it easy.”

she hums again and squeezes you tighter, “you smell like the expensive body wash.”

“i used the expensive body wash. you said you like when i smell like a cupcake.”

“i wanna eat you.”

you laugh too loud, and kayleigh stirs slightly from the floor.

“shhh,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up a little higher around the both of you. “you’re gonna wake them up.”

“so what,” juju mumbles. “wanna tell the whole room i love you.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you said not to ruin your rep.”

“they already know. otto’s been giving me the look all night.”

“what look?”

“the ‘damn, juju’s whipped’ look.”

you glance at otto, who’s dozing with one headphone in, arm slung across a pillow. she’s not even pretending to be part of the conversation anymore.

“baby,” you whisper, “you are whipped.”

juju presses a dramatic hand to her chest. “and proud.”

you kiss her cheek, then her jaw, then the soft skin just beneath her ear.

she wiggles a little. “mmm, that tickles.”

“good.”

“you tryna put me to sleep?”

“trying to get you to relax.”

“i am relaxed. ive never been so relaxed.”

“or clingy.”

“same thing.”

deuce yawns. it’s big and dramatic and almost human.

“he wants to be the little spoon,” juju says, readjusting him gently.

“thought you were the little spoon?”

“no, i’m the medium spoon. and he’s the little spoon.”

you grin. “what does that make me?”

“the pot i’m tryna keep all to myself.”

you stare at her. “that didn’t even make sense.”

“shhhh. cuddle me.”

you do exactly that—tucking her tighter into your chest, brushing her hair back again, letting your fingers trail down her spine like you’re playing a lullaby.

her breathing slows even more. deuce wiggles, sighs, and gives in to sleep again.

the song on the tv changes. the lantern scene is fading.

and juju, just barely awake, whispers—“don’t let anyone else hold your hand, okay?”

“never,” you whisper back. “just you, baby.”

“’kay,” she sighs. “love you.”

“love you most.”

you wake up to sunshine slicing through the blinds and juju practically wrapped around you like a weighted blanket.

her arm’s across your stomach, her leg’s thrown over yours. her face is buried in your neck and her grip is tight like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she loosens it even an inch.

you wiggle a little.

nothing.

try again.

nope.

“baby,” you whisper, gently brushing her curls off your cheek. “i gotta pee.”

juju makes a low groan, somewhere between a dying animal and a dramatic soap opera star.

“no you don’t,” she mumbles, voice muffled by your collarbone.

“juju, i literally do. like literally.”

“hold it.”

“i’m not holding it.”

“then pee right here, i dare you.”

“what’s wrong with you.”

“you’re comfy. shut up.”

you laugh softly and try to shift again, but she tightens her grip like a clingy little koala, still half-asleep and absolutely unbothered.

you glance down at her — puffy eyes, sleepy pout, hoodie sleeves bunched at her elbows — and shake your head.

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re warm.”

“so is the sun, but i don’t see you clinging to that.”

“can’t kiss the sun.”

“would you die if you weren’t kissed?”

“yeah. but i would also die right here if you leave me.”

you groan and give in, settling back under the blanket with a dramatic sigh.

“good,” juju whispers, nuzzling your neck with a smug smile. “you learnin’.”

it’s quiet for a beat. then—

click click click.

little paws patter across the floor.

you lift your head just in time to see deuce trot past the couch, tail wagging, tongue out, absolutely no loyalty in sight.

“is that deuce up this early?”

juju groans and turns her head. “bro. not the walk of shame.”

you snort. “where was he even—”

“i watched him cuddle up with rian and brooklyn last night like he ain’t got a mama. a hoe.”

“he’s a dog.”

“he’s a male. not shocked.”

you both watch as deuce struts right past the people knocked out on the floor and pads into juju’s room like he owns it.

“oh wow,” juju mutters. “not him leaving me to go lay up with otto.”

you laugh into your pillow. “your son’s out here switching teams mid-movie night.”

“hoe behavior. can’t raise ‘em right.”

“you raised him to be clingy. just like you.”

juju gasps. “i am not clingy.”

you arch an eyebrow. “you wouldn’t let me go pee.”

she pauses. “okay. but i’m romantically attached. there’s a difference.”

“uh huh.”

“shut up.”

another pause. quiet now except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional sleepy sigh from the girls on the floor.

then, softly, “…i just hate being away from you.”

your heart tugs.

you glance down again — she’s still holding you, face soft now, less pouty, more vulnerable. voice smaller.

“like,” she adds, “not in a weird, codependent way. i just… i get scared sometimes.”

you run your fingers through her hair, gently. “scared of what, baby?”

“of waking up and you not being here. or you changing your mind. or just, you leaving.”

you go quiet. not because you don’t have words, but because you feel all of hers in your chest like a bruise.

“juju…”

“i’ve never had someone be my safe space before,” she whispers. “like, actually. not just fake-cute. i melt when you hold me. i breathe better.”

you press your lips to her forehead and let them linger.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you,” she says quickly, like she’s scared she’s said it wrong. “it’s just i trust you so much, it makes me afraid. like, if you left, i’d be lost. not ‘cause i can’t live without you. i can. i just wouldn’t wanna.”

you exhale slowly and pull her tighter.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

“promise?”

“promise.”

she nods and sniffles once, real soft. “okay. cool. that’s all i needed.”

you cup her cheek and tilt her face up toward yours, brushing your thumb gently across her skin.

“you’re my safe space too, ju,” you whisper. “you get that, right?”

she stares at you for a second, then leans in and kisses you like she believes it now.

like she feels it in every inch of her skin.

after a beat, she pulls back with a little grin.

“you still gotta hold your pee, though.”

you groan and fall back into the pillows.

“you’re the worst.”

“no? i’m the best. your best.“

“you’ve held onto me all night.”

“who cares?”

“you trapped me.”

“with love, pretty.”

“you play so unfair.”

she giggles and curls up even tighter, leg now fully wedged between yours.

“i’m not lettin’ you off this couch ‘til i get pancakes and more kisses.”

“what if i have to pee again?”

“pee after pancakes. priorities.”

you kiss her forehead again. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“i know.”

you both go quiet again. the kind of quiet that feels full, not empty.

and just when your eyes start fluttering shut again—you hear otto’s voice echo from the bedroom, “ju! why is deuce in here spooning me like i’m his mom?”

juju bursts out laughing into your shoulder, voice muffled and delighted, “that’s what she gets for taking my son.”

you giggle and pull her close again.

and in that moment — tangled blankets, scattered friends, a hoe dog, and your clingy, sleepy, annoyingly perfect girlfriend in your arms — there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

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