Matilda's Imagines

Different

Content Warning: This story contains themes of trauma and sexual assault (non-graphic, implied). Reader discretion is advised.

⸻

Y/n came back different.

Not in the way you notice right away. No—it was subtle. Small.

She smiled less. Laughed less. The spark that usually lit her up like a firework was just... gone. Where there had been bouncing energy, too many questions, and never-ending ADHD commentary, there was now quiet. Flatness.

She went through training without talking. Ate lunch in silence. Flinched when people got too close.

Mini was the first to really notice. She always noticed.

"Y/n?" Mini asked softly during cooldowns. "Everything alright, sweetheart?"

Y/n nodded quickly. "Just tired."

She avoided eye contact. Mini didn't push—not yet.

But then Kyra caught her pulling her hoodie sleeves down even though it was warm, even though Y/n always hated sleeves.

And Caitlin noticed she hadn't seen her phone light up once, even though Y/n used to text her dumb memes twenty times a day.

It wasn't until Macca saw her curled in the corner of the locker room, arms wrapped tight around herself, that alarms truly went off.

She was rocking. Eyes wide. Breathing fast.

Macca crouched beside her, slow and calm. "Hey, bub. What's going on?"

"I'm fine," Y/n whispered. "I'm okay."

"You're not, honey." Macca reached out, but Y/n flinched violently before she could touch her.

Macca froze.

That wasn't nothing.

⸻

Mini called a team meeting without Y/n. It felt wrong, but they all knew—this wasn't about gossip. This was protection.

"She's not okay," Mini said. Her voice was firm, but her eyes were glassy. "Something happened."

"Do we know anything?" Caitlin asked quietly.

"She went away for that weekend with her school friends, right?" Alana said. "Maybe—maybe something happened there."

"She won't talk to anyone," Kyra muttered. "I asked her if she wanted to braid my hair like usual and she looked like I punched her."

"She's scared," Mini said. "Not of us. But of something."

⸻

It was Kyra who finally got through.

She came into the lounge one night and found Y/n curled on the couch, staring blankly at the TV.

"Hey," Kyra said softly, sitting down beside her. "You've barely spoken in days. I miss your voice, gremlin."

Y/n didn't respond.

Kyra took a breath. "Something bad happened, didn't it?"

The silence was deafening.

Y/n's lip trembled. Her fingers curled into her sleeves.

"Was it someone you were with?" Kyra asked gently. "Your friend?"

Y/n broke.

The tears came in violent, silent waves. Her shoulders shook, and when Kyra tried to pull her in, she hesitated—until Y/n suddenly launched into her arms, burying her face in her shoulder.

"He—he was my best friend," she choked out. "He was my friend."

Kyra just held her tighter. "You didn't deserve that. None of it. It wasn't your fault."

"I didn't fight back," Y/n whispered.

"You were scared. And surviving doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong, Y/n."

⸻

Mini took over from there. The next day, Y/n was pulled from training. Mini sat her down with cocoa, wrapped her in a blanket, and looked her in the eye.

"You're not alone anymore," she said. "We're getting you help. And we're going to support you every single step of the way. No matter how long it takes."

And they did.

Macca became her bodyguard, never more than a few feet away. Alana sat with her at night when the nightmares made her scream. Caitlin kept her stocked with her favorite comfort snacks and low-pressure distractions. Kyra never let her go a day without a dumb joke or a forehead kiss.

And Mini?

Mini handled everything—therapy appointments, school contacts, safe words. But more than that, she gave Y/n a safe place to fall apart.

Because healing wasn't linear.

There were good days. There were bad days. Days she wanted to scream. Days she couldn't speak at all. But she never had to hide it again. Not from them.

They never let her forget:

She was loved.
She was believed.
She was safe.