Matilda's Imagines

Lump

The team had always joked that Y/N had two speeds: chaos and crash. She was a whirlwind of motion most days — darting around with rolls of tape, forgotten water bottles, and medical kits almost too big for her to carry. But when she wasn't in motion, she was out cold. Like her body could only go if it burned through every ounce of fuel first.

Mini noticed it more than anyone. She noticed everything about Y/N.

The way she deflected affection with a joke. The way she got uncomfortable with compliments. How she never asked for help, even when her hands were full or her brain was clearly overloaded from trying to manage her ADHD on bad days. How she always said thank you too fast, like she was trying to shrink into the floor.

She'd learned not to push. Love took time with kids like Y/N. Especially when the world had taught them it wasn't safe.

But that morning, Mini knew something was different.

Y/N was exhausted — eyes sunken, skin pale, hoodie far too big on her already small frame. She moved like her limbs weighed more than usual, like each step was a fight.

"Did you sleep?" Mini asked gently as she found her curled up half-asleep in the corner of the physio room, a half-eaten protein bar in one hand and a tangle of wires she was supposed to organize in the other.

"Kinda," you mumbled, barely opening your eyes. "Coughing. All night."

Mini's brow creased. "That's not just tired, baby. You look like hell."

"I'm fine," you said quickly. Too quickly.

It was always that word. "Fine." The great cover-up.

Mini didn't argue. She just walked over, took the wires out of your hand, and nudged your shoulder. "Lie down properly, yeah? I'll rub your back. You're not working today."

"No, I can—"

"You're not working today, Y/N." Firm, but kind. The tone that always shut down the protest but didn't make you flinch. That Mini tone.

So you laid down. Hoodie hiked up slightly, revealing your lower back. You curled inward, already half-asleep. The cough still came in little spasms, dry and painful.

Mini's hand moved in slow circles across your spine.

And then she felt it.

Her hand paused just beneath your ribs — low, right side. A firm, round shape that should not have been there.

She froze.

"Y/N..." she said softly. "Honey, what's this?"

You didn't open your eyes. You didn't even really seem to hear her. "It's cancer," you mumbled, groggy, the words slurring slightly. "S'why I'm tired all the time."

Mini's heart stopped.

It took a second for her to breathe again. She looked down at you — fast asleep now, your face soft and innocent, like the child you never got to be.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she swallowed them back. She ran a hand through your hair and whispered, "Oh, baby..."

⸻

The Next Day

It didn't take long for the others to notice something was wrong.

Mini pulled Sam aside first. Then Caitlin. Then Macca, Alana, Kyra. Quietly, carefully. Not to alarm, but to prepare.

Y/N was still asleep when the rest of the team made the decision — together, without hesitation — to rally around you in ways you couldn't even imagine.

No one was angry. No one was shocked. Not really. They knew you were carrying something heavy. They just hadn't realized how heavy.

So they came in shifts. Kyra brought snacks and chaos, tossing a blanket over your legs and pretending she wasn't checking if you had a fever every five seconds. Macca brought fidgets and cartoons. Alana sat quietly nearby, just keeping you company. Caitlin braided your hair when you let her, and pretended not to notice when you cried a little under the guise of a "headache."

And Mini — Mini never left. Appointments were booked. Specialists called. She handled everything with the quiet strength of someone who'd already decided:

You were hers now.

⸻

One night, after a particularly hard round of tests, you sat alone in the locker room — curled into your knees, shaking from the fear you'd tried so hard to hide.

Mini found you like that.

"You should hate me," you whispered. "I lied. I didn't tell anyone. I thought... if I said it out loud, it would be real."

Mini crouched in front of you, gently lifting your chin.

"Y/N, baby... nothing about this makes me hate you. If anything, I love you more."

Your eyes widened. "You... what?"

She smiled through her tears. "You're our kid. Mine. Kyra's. Macca's. Caitlin's. Alana's. The whole damn squad. And we're not letting you go through this alone."

You broke then — full-body sobs, shaking, scared. And for the first time, you let yourself fall into someone's arms.

Mini held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Because to her — to all of them — you were.