Matilda's Imagines

Hair Stylist Y/n

Y/n sat at the far end of the bench in the locker room, knees drawn up to her chest. Her cleats scuffed against the ground as she stared blankly at the floor. The game had been brutal—passes going astray, tackles missed, and a moment where she'd slipped up, letting the opposition make an easy run toward goal. She knew it wasn't all her fault, but the shame weighed heavy on her shoulders.

The room buzzed quietly as the rest of the Matildas changed and talked amongst themselves. They didn't blame her—she knew that—but her ADHD had been all over the place today, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd let everyone down.

"Nice hair though, kid," Kyra said, plopping down beside her, her usual teasing grin softening at the edges. "Didn't see it out of place once, even when you got tackled."

Y/n blinked and turned her head toward her "older sister," the comment so unexpected that she almost laughed. "My hair?"

"Yeah!" Caitlin chimed in from across the room, pointing at the intricate fishtail braid that Y/n had tied back into a flawless bun. "How do you even do that on yourself? I can't even get a ponytail to stay put."

"It's... just practice," Y/n mumbled, tucking her chin onto her knees. "I used to do my hair a lot when I was younger. It kept me busy." She hesitated for a moment before adding softly, "It made me feel... put together."

The locker room went quiet for a beat before Macca, always the one to lighten the mood, grinned and elbowed Alanna. "You hear that, Alanna? We've been struggling with these messy buns for nothing. The kid's been holding out on us."

Alanna laughed, shaking her head. "I can't believe we've been playing like cavemen when we've got a hair stylist on the team."

"Wait a second," Kyra said, pointing at Y/n dramatically. "You're telling me you can do that"—she gestured to the flawless style on Y/n's head—"on other people too?"

Y/n blinked at the sudden attention, cheeks turning red as every pair of eyes in the room turned toward her. "Uh... yeah? I guess."

Mini, ever the voice of reason and maternal care, smiled softly from where she sat. "Well, in that case, Y/n, you might've just earned yourself a new pre-game role."

"What?" Y/n sat up, confusion written all over her face.

"You're doing Kyra's hair next game," Caitlin declared.

"And mine!" Macca added with a grin.

"Can you do braids that won't fall out?" Alanna asked.

Before Y/n knew it, the entire locker room was bustling with requests. Her face flushed as Kyra slung an arm around her shoulders. "Look at that, kid. You've got a line of clients already. Unofficial team hair stylist—you better start charging us."

Y/n let out a small laugh, the weight in her chest starting to lift. "I don't think I could keep up with you guys if I charged."

Mini stepped forward, her voice gentle as always. "Y/n, listen to me for a second." She crouched in front of the teen, her eyes warm and steady. "Today wasn't your game, but one bad day doesn't define you. You're part of this team because you've earned it, not because we feel sorry for you. Understand?"

Y/n swallowed hard, nodding as Mini smiled.

"And besides," Mini continued, standing up and ruffling Y/n's hair with a grin, "who else is going to make us look this good on game day?"

The Next Match Day

It started with Kyra.

"Alright, Y/n, work your magic," Kyra said, dropping into the chair in the middle of the team's hotel common room. Her usual smirk was in place, but there was an edge of excitement in her voice.

Y/n cracked her knuckles, the familiar feeling of focus settling over her as she grabbed a brush and elastics. "I'm gonna do something fancy. You'll owe me for this."

Kyra snorted. "You're lucky I trust you, kid."

Fifteen minutes later, Y/n finished tying the last strand of Kyra's hair into place. "Done. Now you look like a warrior."

Kyra turned to the mirror and blinked. Her hair had been braided into tight Dutch braids that fed into a sleek bun—practical, but stylish. "Holy... Y/n, this is insane. I look like I'm about to dominate the field."

"Credit me when you score," Y/n teased, grinning.

From there, the line formed. Macca wanted a braided bun that wouldn't move an inch. Alanna asked for a simple French braid that would stay clean and tight. Caitlin requested two small accent braids to keep her hair out of her face.

Even Mini sat down, much to everyone's surprise. "Just something simple," she said with a smile.

When Y/n was done, Mini's hair was in a perfect braided crown that made her look every bit the leader she was. "You're brilliant, Y/n," Mini said softly, squeezing her shoulder.

When the Matildas stepped onto the field that day, they were unstoppable. Not just because of their skill or tactics, but because they felt like a unit. Each player had a spark of confidence, their hair perfectly styled and out of the way thanks to Y/n's handiwork.

Kyra jogged past Y/n at one point, grinning. "Told you this would bring us luck, kid."

Y/n laughed as she sprinted to keep up. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged—not just as a player, but as someone her team relied on.

And as the final whistle blew, with the Matildas taking home a well-earned victory, Caitlin threw an arm around Y/n's shoulders.

"You know what, Y/n? You're not just our baby—you're our secret weapon."

Y/n beamed, her heart full as she looked around at her team, her family. "Anytime, guys. Anytime."