hiii :)! can you do an azzi fudd x reader fic? where the reader is a cheerleader and supports azzi even when she’s upset? like angst but then really fluffy <3! hope you have a great day
courtside love. azzi fudd
✶ warnings ✶ 1k ish words count. black!fem reader. reader is being a dork. cheerleader!reader. supportive reader. flirty!reader. agnst!azzi. wlw. fluffy fluffy stuff.
first request ! I hope you’ll like it baby 🤍
"LET’S GO AZZI !" That game was ass. And saying that was still an understatement. From where you were in the cheer section with your girls, the damage didn’t look that bad. The score wasn’t a blowout. Nobody got hurt. But somehow, the energy in the gym was off the whole match. Thick and slow. The kind that settled in your chest and made everything feel heavier than it should.
You couldn’t shake it.
They were loosing.
Every time azzi touched the ball, your stomach knotted. Not because you didn’t believe in her—hell no. You’d ride for that girl even if she was the dirtiest of players. It was something else. Something in the way she moved. Off beat. Not slow, but disconnected. Like her body was playing and her mind was somewhere else entirely.
She missed three jumpers in the first quarter. Airballed a free throw in the second.
By halftime, your throat was raw from cheering too hard and your hands were red from clapping, just trying to make her see you. Just trying to send some kind of energy across the court to ground her.
But azzi never once looked up. Not toward the bench. Not toward the stands. Not toward you.
And that? That was what had you feeling sick.
Because your girl, whether she knew it yet or not—always looked for you. Even if it was quick. Even if it was mid-game, mid-timeout, mid-huddle. You knew her game face. You knew her fire. And this? This wasn’t it.
By the time the buzzer hit and the final score flashed on the board, you already knew what was coming. She dipped out the second the teams shook hands, head down, hoodie up before she even made it past the tunnel. Didn’t speak to the press. Didn’t wave at the crowd. Didn’t even dap up her own teammates.
Just gone.
Just like that.
YOU DON’T GO HOME WITH THE SQUAD LIKE USUAL. Don’t slide out for late-night fries or sit around rating crowd signs or trade “I told you she was gon’ eat” jokes with the girls. You just slip out of the gym, ignore the cool night air brushing against your skin, and post up by the back entrance of the arena. Right outside the player exit. Hoodie on, duffle at your feet, phone in hand but untouched.
You knew she’d come out eventually.
And she did.
Thirty minutes later, shoulders tense and hood up again, hands stuffed in her pockets like she tryna disappear into herself.
She spotted you, and for a second you think she might keep walking.
But then her steps slow.
Her head tilts down just a little. And she stops right in front of you. You don’t speak yet. Just open your arms.
And azzi folds straight into you like she been holding her breath all night.
No words. No tears. Just a long, trembling exhale into your shoulder and a quiet, “Can I come to yours?”
You nod, your hands already holding her tighter.
“Yeah, baby. C’mon.”
THE WALK BACK TO YOUR DORM WAS QUIET. She doesn’t let go of your hand the entire way.
You open the door to your room and let her walk in first. She drops her bag by the foot of your bed, kicks her sneakers off, then sits at the edge of your mattress like her whole body’s heavy. Like the game’s still clinging to her skin.
You slowly pull off your cheer jacket, toss it on your desk chair, and kneel down in front of her.
“z,” you say softly, your hands on her knees, “Talk to me.”
Her jaw’s locked tight. Eyes red. Not from crying—you know the look. She ain’t even let herself do that yet. That’s the athlete in her. That ’hold it down until you crack alone in the dark’ kind of pride.
“I fucking sucked,” she spits, bitter and sudden. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I couldn’t hit shit. I was slow. I let them cook me on defense like I wasn’t even—”
“Hey,” you interrupt gently, thumbs rubbing soft circles into her thighs. “Stop that.”
She blinks down at you, frustrated. “What?”
“You’re not gonna sit here and talk about my girlfriend like that. Not on my watch.”
“I cost us the game.”
“You didn’t. One player don’t decide a whole game, and even if you missed every single shot—which you didn’t—you still showed up, azzi. You stayed in it. You didn’t quit. That means something.”
She swallows hard, jaw twitching. Her hands are gripping the edge of your blanket now like it’s keeping her upright.
“You always say the right thing,” she mutters.
“’Because I mean it. ‘Because I see you. Even when you think you disappeared tonight—I saw you.”
And that’s it.
The floodgates open.
Her breath shakes, and she tries to turn her head but you’re already there, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her waist while she curls in tight. Her body trembles against yours, and her hands fist the back of your tank like she scared she gon’ fall through the floor.
You don’t tell her to stop. Don’t tell her to calm down. You just hold her.
You rock her back and forth gently, whispering against her ear, “I always got you.”
She cries like she’d waited for permission.
And when it passes, she looks up at you like you’re the only thing holding her together.
You cup her face. Thumb brushing under her eye. Lips brushing her forehead.
And then, so soft you almost don’t catch it, she whispers, “You saved me tonight.”
You kiss her before you can think.
And when she kisses you back, it’s not rushed. Not lustful. It’s slow.
Tender. Like a thank you.
LATER—when she’s showered, changed into one of your old high school tees, and curled up in your bed under three blankets, she pulls you in again.
You’re straddling her waist now, both of you still whispering in the hush of candlelight. The room smells like shea butter and the vanilla conditioner she keeps in your shower.
Her hands move up your back, deliberate, reverent. Her lips kiss the inside of your wrist like it’s holy.
“Im so grateful for you,” she breathes, eyes locked on yours. "I love you."
"I love you too, baby." You smile softly at her. “Even when you’re grumpy and shit." You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through her hair.
"Okay, first off all-"
© written by melobballin | writing is free, copying is lazy 🤍 hope you’ll like it !
